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A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

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Title: A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

Author: Evelyn Everett-Green


        
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                Most recently updated: October 23, 2024

Language: English

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A CLERK OF OXFORD

and

His Adventures in the Barons' War

by

E. EVERETT-GREEN

Author of "Shut In," "In Taunton Town," "The Sign of the Red
Cross," "In the Days of Chivalry," "The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn."
&c. &c.







T. Nelson and Sons
London, Edinburgh, and New York
1898




[Illustration: _The City of Oxford from an old print._]




CONTENTS.


        I. THE DIE CAST                                         9

       II. A RIVER JOURNEY                                     25

      III. OLD OXFORD                                          40

       IV. THE FIRST DAY                                       55

        V. THE NEW LIFE                                        70

       VI. A "MAD" PARLIAMENT                                  85

      VII. THE CONSTABLE'S CHILDREN                           100

     VIII. STORMY SCENES                                      116

       IX. A STUDENTS' HOLIDAY                                131

        X. THE FAIR OF ST. FRIDESWYDE                         147

       XI. THE MAGICIAN'S TOWER                               163

      XII. WINTER DAYS WITHIN THE CASTLE                      178

     XIII. KENILWORTH CASTLE                                  193

      XIV. THE GREAT EARL                                     208

       XV. PRINCE EDWARD                                      223

      XVI. BACK AT OXFORD                                     239

     XVII. THE BELL OF ST. MARTIN'S                           254

    XVIII. THE NEW CHANCELLOR                                 269

      XIX. THE CHANCELLOR'S AWARD                             285

       XX. TURBULENT TIMES                                    300

      XXI. KING AND STUDENTS                                  315

     XXII. IN ARMS                                            328

    XXIII. ON THE FIELD OF LEWES                              344

     XXIV. AFTER THE BATTLE                                   360

      XXV. CHRISTMAS AT KENILWORTH                            375

     XXVI. PLOTS                                              391

    XXVII. THE CAPTIVE A CONQUEROR                            407

   XXVIII. THE FATAL FIGHT                                    423

     XXIX. LEOFRIC'S REWARD                                   439

      XXX. ON THE STILL ISIS                                  454




A CLERK OF OXFORD.




CHAPTER I.

_THE DIE CAST._


"My son," spoke a gentle voice from behind the low, moss-grown wall, "we
must not mourn and weep for those taken from us, as if we had no hope."

Face downwards upon the newly-made mound of earth lay a youth of some
fifteen or sixteen summers. His slight frame was convulsed by the
paroxysm of his grief; from time to time a strangled sob broke from his
lips. The kindly-faced monk from the Priory hard by had been watching
him for some time before he thus addressed him. Probably he now saw that
the violence of the outburst was spent.

The youth started upon hearing himself addressed, and as he sprang to
his feet he revealed a singularly attractive face. The brow was broad
and massive, indicating intellectual power. The blue eyes beneath the
pencilled arch of the delicate eyebrows looked out upon the world with a
singular directness and purity of expression. The features were finely
cut, and there were strength and sweetness both in the curved,
thoughtful lips, and in the square outline of the jaw. The fair hair
clustered in curling luxuriance about his head, and fell in sunny waves
to his shoulders. His hands were long and white, and looked rather as
though they had wielded pen than weapon or tool of craftsman. Yet the
lad's habit was that of one occupying a humble rank in life, and the
shoes on his feet were worn and patched, as though by his own apprentice
hands. Beside him lay a wallet and staff, upon which the glance of the
monk rested questioningly. The youth appeared to note the glance, yet it
was the words addressed to him that he answered.

"I think it is rather for myself I weep, my father. I know that they who
die in faith rest in peace and are blessed. But for those who are
left--left quite alone--the world is a hard place for them."

Father Ambrose looked with kindly solicitude at the lad. He noted his
pale face, his sunken eyes, the look of weary depression that seemed to
weigh him down, and he asked gently,--

"What ails thee, Leofric, my son?"

"Everything," answered the youth, with sudden passion in his tones. "I
have lost everything in the world that I prized. My father is dead. I
have no home. I have no fortune. All that we had is swallowed up in
paying for such things as were needful for him while he lay ill. Even
that which he saved for masses for his soul had to go at the last. See
here, my father, I have but these few silver pieces left in all the
world. Take them, and say one mass for him, and let me kneel at the door
of the chapel the while. Then will I go forth into the wide world alone,
and whether I live or die matters nothing. I have no one in the wide
world who will know or care."

But the monk gently put back the extended hand, and laid his own kindly
upon the head of the youth.

"Keep thy money, my son. The mass shall be said--ay, and more than
one--for the repose of thy father's soul. He was a good man and true,
and I loved him well. That pious office I will willingly perform in
memory of our friendship. But now, as to thyself. Whither goest thou,
and what wilt thou do? I had thought that thou wouldst have come to me
ere thou didst sally forth into the wide world alone."

There was a faint accent of reproach in the monk's voice, and Leofric's
sensitive face coloured instantly.

"Think it not ingratitude on my part, my father," he said quickly. "I
was coming to say good-bye. But that seems now the only word left to me
to speak in this world."

"Wherefore so, my son? why this haste to depart? The old life has indeed
closed for thee; but there may be bright days in store for thee yet.
Whither art thou going in such hot haste?"

"I must e'en go where I can earn a living," answered Leofric, "and that
must be by the work of mine own hands. I shall find my way to some town,
and seek to apprentice myself to some craft. These hands must learn to
wield axe or hammer or mallet. There is nothing else left for the son of
a poor scholar, who could scarce earn enough himself to feed the pair of
us."

Father Ambrose looked at the lad's white fingers, and he slightly shook
his head.

"Methinks thou couldst do better with those hands, Leofric. Hast never
thought of what I have sometimes spoken to thee, when thou hast been
aiding me with the care of the parchments?"

The lad's face flushed again quickly; but his eyes met the gaze fastened
upon his with the fearless openness which was one of their
characteristics.

"My father, I could not be a monk," he said. "I have no call--no
vocation."

"Yet thou dost love a quiet life of meditation? Thou dost love learning,
and hast no small store for thy years. It is a beautiful and peaceful
life for those who would fain flee from the trials and temptations of
the world. And the Prior here thinks well of thee; he has never grudged
the time I have spent upon thee. I shall miss thee when thou art gone,
Leofric; life here is something too calm and same."

There was a touch of wistful regret in the father's tones which brought
back the ready tears to Leofric's eyes. After his own father, he owed
most to this kindly old monk, though it had never for a moment struck
him that the teaching and training of a bright young lad had been one of
the main interests in that monotonous existence.

"That is what I have felt myself," he answered quickly. "I love the
calm and the quiet, the books and the parchments. I shall bless you
every day of my life for all your goodness to me. But I would fain see
the great world too. I have heard my father and others speak of things I
would fain see with mine own eyes. It breaks my heart to go, yet I
cannot choose but do so. I dare not ask to come to you, my kindest
friend, my second father. I could not be a monk. I should but deceive
and disappoint you were I to seek an asylum with you now."

Father Ambrose sighed slightly as he shook his head; but he made no
attempt to influence the youth. Perhaps he loved him too well to press
him to enter upon a life which had so many limitations and drawbacks.

Yet he would not let him go forth upon his travels with so small a
notion of what lay before him. He led him into the refectory, where
strangers were entertained, and had food brought and set before him. The
lad was hungry, for he had of late undergone a very considerable mental
strain, and had had little enough time or thought to spare for creature
comforts. The long illness of his father, a man gently born, but of very
narrow means, had completely worn him out in body and mind; and now,
when thrown penniless upon the world, there had seemed nothing before
him but to wander forth with wallet and staff, and seek some craftsman
who would give him food and shelter whilst he served a long and perhaps
hard apprenticeship to whatever trade he chanced upon.

He spoke again of this as he sat in the refectory, and again Father
Ambrose shook his head.

"Thou art not of the stuff for an apprentice to some harsh master; thou
hast done but little hard work. And think of thy skill with brush and
pen, and thy knowledge of Latin and the Holy Scriptures; thy sweet
voice, and thy skill upon the lute. What will all these serve thee, if
thou dost waste thy years of manhood's prime at carpenter's bench or
blacksmith's forge?"

Leofric sighed, and asked wistfully,--

"Yet what else can I do, my father?"

"Hast ever thought of Oxford?" asked Father Ambrose, rubbing his chin
reflectively. "There be lads as poor as thou that beg their way thither
and live there as clerks, being helped thereto by the gifts of pious
benefactors. They say that the King's Majesty greatly favours students
and clerks, and that a lad who can sing a roundelay or turn an epigram
can earn for himself enough to keep him whilst he wins his way to some
honourable post. Hast ever thought of the University, lad? that were a
better place for thee than a craftsman's shop."

Leofric's eyes brightened slowly whilst the monk spoke. Such an idea as
this had never crossed his mind heretofore. Living far away from Oxford,
and hearing nothing of the life there, he had never once thought of that
as a possible asylum for himself; but in a moment it seemed to him that
this was just the chance he had been longing for. He could not bring his
mind to the thought of the life of the cloister; yet he loved learning
and the fine arts with a passionate love, and had received just enough
training to make him ardently desire more.

"Would such a thing as that be possible for such as I, my father?" he
asked with bated breath, seeming to hang upon the monk's lips as he
waited for the answer.

"More than possible--advisable, reasonable," answered another voice from
the shadows of the room. Leofric started to his feet and bent the knee
instinctively; for, unseen to both himself and Father Ambrose, the Prior
had entered, and had plainly heard the last words which had passed
between the pair.

The Prior was a tall, venerable man, with eagle eye and an air of
extreme dignity; but he was kindly disposed towards Leofric, and greeted
him gently and tenderly, speaking for a few minutes of his recent heavy
loss, and then resuming the former subject.

"Oxford is the place where lads such as thou do congregate together in
its many schools and buildings, and learn from the lips of the
instructed and wise the lore of the ancients and the wisdom of the
sages. There be many masters and doctors there who began life as poor
clerks, begging alms as they went. What one man has done another may
attempt. Thou mayest yet be a worthy clerk, and rise to fame and
learning."

"Without money?" asked Leofric, whose eyes began to sparkle and glow.

"Yes, even without money," answered the Prior: "for at Oxford there are
monasteries and abbeys to each of which is attached a Domus Dei; and
there are gathered together poor clerks and other indigent persons, to
whom an allowance of daily food is made from the monks' table; whilst,
through the liberality of benefactors, a habit is supplied to them
yearly, together with such things as be absolutely needful for their
support. Once was I the guest of the Abbot of Osney, and I remember
visiting the Domus Dei, and seeing the portions of meat sent thither
from the refectory. I will give thee a letter of recommendation to him,
good lad. It may be that this will serve thee in some sort upon thy
arrival."

Leofric bent the knee once more in token of the gratitude his faltering
lips could scarce pronounce. The thought of a life of study, in lieu of
that of an apprentice, was like nectar to him. Prior and Father alike
smiled at his boyish but genuine rapture.

"Yet think not, my son, that the life will be free from many a hardship,
to a poor clerk without means and without friends. There be many wild
and turbulent spirits pent within the walls of Oxford. Men have lost
life and limb ere now in those brawls which so often arise 'twixt
townsmen and clerks. The Chancellor doth all he can to protect the lives
of scholars and clerks; yet, do as he will, troubles ofttime arise, and
men have ere this been forced to leave the place by hundreds till the
turbulent citizens can be brought to reason and submission."

But Leofric was in nowise daunted by this aspect of the case. Trained up
hardily, albeit of studious habits, the fear of hardships did not daunt
him.

"So long as I have food to eat and raiment to wear, I care for no
hardship, so as I may become a scholar," he said. "And can I, reverend
Father, rise to the dignity of a master, if I do not likewise take the
vows of the Church upon me?"

"Ay, truly thou canst," was the reply. "There are the scholastic
_Trivium_ of grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the mathematical _Quadrivium_
of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music. These form the magic
circle of the arts, of which thou mayest become a master without taking
any vow to Holy Church. Yet methinks thou wouldest do well to wear the
tonsure and the gown, that thou mayest in all quarrels or troubles have
the right to claim the benefit of clergy, and so escape from the secular
arm if it were stretched out against thee. This is the usual custom of
clerks at Oxford and Cambridge. But it commits thee to nought, if thou
art not willing to join thyself to any of our brotherhoods."

The Prior eyed him kindly, but Father Ambrose sighed, and Leofric
himself felt a qualm of shame at his own distaste for the life of the
cloister.

"The wish, the call, may come perchance," he answered humbly, glancing
from one to the other; "but methinks I am not fit for the life of holy
meditation, or surely the kindness I have here received would have
inclined mine heart that way."

"Thou art still too young to take such vows upon thyself," said the
Prior. "It is men who come to us aweary of the evils and strife of the
world that know the blessedness of the cloistered life. Thou mayest
learn that lesson in time; or thou mayest link thy lot with that of
these wandering friars, who teach men that they have found the more
acceptable way. For myself, I have found the place of rest, and I desire
to end my days here in peace."

"And how may I journey from here to Oxford?" asked Leofric with some
timidity, after a short silence. "Surely the way is long; and I have
never fared farther than Coventry, which place I thought to make my
home, if I could but find a master who would receive me as apprentice."

The Prior pondered awhile before replying.

"There be two ways of journeying--by land and by water," he replied; "if
by land, thou wouldest have to beg thy way from place to place. At some
hostel they would give thee bed and board, most like, if thou wouldest
make them merry by a song; or at some great house, if thou couldst
recite a ballad or speak a Latin grace. At the Monasteries thou wouldest
receive food and bed, and mayhap an alms to help thee on thy way. Many a
clerk begs his way to Oxford year by year, and is well received of all.
Yet the perils of the way are many and great through the forests which
lie betwixt thee and thy goal. It might be that the water way would be
the better."

"I love the water," said Leofric eagerly; "and my little canoe lies
beneath the bank under the alder clump. I have made many a miniature
voyage in her before. Methinks she would carry me safely did I but know
the way."

"And the way thou canst not miss," answered the Prior. "This little
stream which flows past our walls joins itself, as thou dost know, to
the wider Avon, which presently flows into a river men call the
Cherwell, and in its turn that doth make junction with the Isis, whereon
the town of Oxford is situate. This junction is hard by the town itself;
when thou dost reach that, thy journey will have an end."

Leofric listened eagerly. He had heard, indeed, of these things, but
hitherto they had been but names to him. Now it seemed as though the
great unknown world, lying without the circle of his daily life, were
about to open before him.

"I would fain try the water way," he said. "I am skilful with the
paddle; and I can carry my little craft upon my back whenever rocks and
rapids impede my progress. The season is favourable for the journey. The
ice and snow are gone. There is a good depth of water in all the
streams, and yet the weed and slime of summer and autumn have not begun
to appear; nor will the overarching boughs from the trees hinder
progress as they do when clad in their summer bravery. I love the river
in the early spring, and if I do but follow the course of the stream I
cannot miss my way, as I might well do upon the road in the great forest
tracks."

"Yes, that is very true. Methinks thou wilt be safer so, if thou canst
find sustenance upon the way. But thou canst carry with thee some
provision of bread, and there be several godly houses beside the river
where thou wilt be welcomed by the brothers, who will supply thy needs.
Take, too, thy bow and arrows; thou wilt doubtless thus secure some game
by the way. But have a care in the King's forests around Oxford how thou
dost let fly thy shafts. Many a man has lost his life ere now for
piercing the side of some fat buck."

Leofric's heart was now all on fire for the journey which lay before
him. He could scarcely believe that but one short hour ago he had
believed himself hopelessly doomed to a life of uncongenial toil. He had
never thought of this student life--he hardly knew of its existence; but
the Prior of the Monastery and some of the monks, who had known and
befriended both Leofric and his father, had themselves discussed several
times the question of dispatching the youth to Oxford for tuition; and
the rather unexpected death of the father, after a lingering illness,
seemed to open the way for the furtherance of this design.

Leofric had been the pet of the Monastery from his childhood. Always of
a studious turn, and eager for information, it had been the favourite
relaxation of several of the monks to instruct him in the Latin tongue,
to teach him the art of penmanship, and even to initiate him into some
of the mysteries of that wonderful illumination of parchments which was
the secret of the monks in the Middle Ages.

Leofric profited by every opportunity afforded him. Already he could
both speak and understand Latin easily. He had a very fair knowledge of
certain portions of the Scriptures, and possessed a breviary of his own,
which he regarded as his greatest treasure. For the age in which he
lived these were accomplishments of no mean order, and it would have
seemed to the ecclesiastics little short of a disgrace to them had they
permitted their pupil to lose his scholarship in some craftsman's shop.
They had frequently spoken of sending him as a clerk to Oxford, unless
he could see his way to becoming one of themselves. This, however, was
not to be. The boy, though reverent and devout, had no leanings after
the life of the cloister, and the Prior was too wise a man to put
pressure upon him. But he was willing to forward, by such means as he
could, any project which should secure to Leofric the advantages of a
liberal education.

So the lad was bidden to remain a guest of the Monastery for the few
days necessary to his simple preparations. The Prior wished him to be
provided with a habit suitable to his condition of clerk. This habit was
made of a strong sort of cloth, and reached to the knees, being confined
at the waist by a leather girdle. He was also provided with a change of
under-raiment, with strong leggings and shoes, and with a supply of
coarse bread and salted meat sufficient for several days. The Prior
wrote a letter to the Abbot of Osney, recommending the lad to his
favourable notice, and asking for him a place in the Domus Dei, should
no better lodging be obtainable.

Leofric himself spent his time in the mending of his canoe, which had
been somewhat battered by the winter storms. He had made the little
craft out of the bark of trees, and had covered it with pitch to make it
waterproof. Some story he had heard about wild men in unknown lands had
given him the idea of constructing this little boat, and now it seemed
as though it would be of real service to him in his new career.

Father Ambrose would sit beside him on the river bank, and talk to him
as he prosecuted this task. There was a strong bond of affection between
the old monk and the young lad.

"Thou wilt come back some day and see us, Leofric," he said once, as the
task drew near to its accomplishment; "I would fain look again upon thy
face before I die."

"Indeed I will, father. I too shall always love this place, and shall
never forget the kindness I have received, nor how these many days
masses have been said for my father, and never a penny paid by me,
albeit I would gladly give my all."

"Nay, nay, boy, it is a labour of love; and we know that thou wilt some
day, when thou art rich and famous, give of thine abundance to our
shrine here. Thou wilt see strange things in the great world, my son.
Thou wilt see the great ones of the earth rising up against their
anointed King, and that King taking vows upon his lips which he has
neither the wish nor the intention to fulfil. The world is full of
terrible things, and thou wilt quickly see many of them. Yet keep
through all a pure heart and clean hands, so will God love thee, be thy
path what it will."

Leofric looked up quickly.

"I have heard somewhat from time to time of the feud betwixt the King
and the Barons; but to me such tales are but as idle words. I know not
what men mean."

"Thou wilt know more anon," answered the monk gravely. "We have heard
from those who pass to and fro that times are dangerous, and men's minds
full of doubt and fear. I know not what may betide this land, but there
be those who say that the sword will ere long be unsheathed, and that
brother will war against brother as it hath not been seen for many a
long day. God forbid that such things should be!"

"And will such strife come nigh to Oxford?" asked Leofric. "Shall we
hear ought there of the battle and the turmoil?"

"I trow well that ye will. Knowest thou not that the King hath a palace
close by the walls of the city, and another but a few leagues away?
Methinks that in yon city there will be much strife of tongues anent
these burning questions of which we scarce hear a whisper. Thou must
seek to be guided aright, my son; for youth is ever hot-headed, and like
to be carried away by rash counsels. It is a grievous thing for a nation
to rise against its anointed head; and yet, even as Saul was set aside
by God, and another put in his place, we may not always say that a King
can do no wrong--albeit we must be very slow to judge and condemn him."

Leofric listened eagerly. Every day of late he had heard words which
roused within him the knowledge that beyond the peaceful circle of his
past life lay a seething world into which he was shortly to plunge. The
thought filled him with eager longings and desires. He wanted to shoot
forth in his tiny craft and see this world for himself. And, behold,
to-day his task was finished, and the Prior had ordained that at dawn
upon the morrow he should go.

His habit and provision were already packed and stowed away. He had
received his letter and messages, and had listened in meek silence to
the admonitions and instructions of the Prior. He had slept his last
night beneath the hospitable Monastery roof, and had heard mass for the
last time in the grey dawning.

Now he stood with one foot in his little craft, pressing the hand of
Father Ambrose, and looking round at the familiar faces and buildings
with smiles and tears struggling for mastery in his face.

Then the canoe shot out into the midst of the stream.

His voyage was begun.




CHAPTER II.

_A RIVER JOURNEY._


It was no light task that Leofric had set himself. The river wound in
and out through forest tracts hardly ever traversed. Trees blown down in
winter storms lay right athwart the stream. _Débris_ brought down from
above was often packed tight against such obstructions; and then there
was no way of proceeding save by dragging up the canoe out of the water
and launching it again lower down. As the forest was often very thick
and tangled along the banks of the river, this was no light matter, and
had Leofric not been gifted with a strong will and a very resolute
purpose, he might well have given up in despair.

As it was, he found travelling a great deal slower work than he had
anticipated, and already his store of provision was greatly diminished,
although he could not flatter himself that he had travelled any very
great distance. He was sometimes disposed to doubt whether, after all,
he had been wise in choosing the waterway in preference to the road.

Night was falling, and it looked as though rain was likely to come on at
moonrise. The clouds were sullen and lowering; the wind moaned and
whistled through the trees, and lashed the water into angry little
wavelets. Leofric was feeling weary and a little depressed by the
intense loneliness of his voyage, when suddenly he heard himself hailed
by a friendly voice from somewhere out of the thicket.

"Whither away, good friend, and why art thou afloat and alone at this
hour of the evening? What dost thou in yon frail craft out on the
darkling river?"

Leofric looked eagerly about him, and espied, not far away, a
ruddy-faced youth of about his own age, sitting beside the water
fishing, with a basket at his side that showed he had not thus sat in
vain. With a few strokes of his paddle he brought himself alongside the
bank. The sound of a human voice was as music to his ears after the long
silence of the forest.

"Good-even, good comrade," he answered, stepping lightly ashore; "and
welcome indeed is thy friendly voice. For four days have I been alone
upon this river, and the sight of a kindly face is like a draught of new
wine."

"But what dost thou alone upon the river?"

"Marry, that is soon told. I am a poor lad who would fain become a
clerk, and I am on my way to Oxford, there to seek to maintain myself
whilst I study the arts and win my way to a livelihood--"

Hardly had he got out these words before the other youth sprang to his
feet with a whoop of joy, and to Leofric's astonishment flung his arms
about his neck, and fairly danced in the exuberance of his delight.

"Now, what ails thee?" he asked, half amused, half bewildered. "Hast
thou taken leave of thy senses, good friend?"

"Thou mayest well ask--methinks it must even seem so; but listen, fair
youth, and soon shalt thou understand. I am the son of a farmer, but I,
too, have a great longing after letters. I have heard of this same city
of learning, and I have begged and prayed of my father, who has many
other sons, to let me fare forth and find my way thither, and climb the
tree of learning. At first he listened not, but laughed aloud, as did my
brothers. But my mother took my part, and I learned to read last winter
at the Monastery, and the kindly fathers spoke well of my progress.
Through these winter days I have gone daily thither, taking an offering
of fish, and receiving instruction from them--"

"That is how I obtained such learning as I possess," interposed Leofric
eagerly; "and my father taught me too, for he was a scholar of no mean
attainments. But it is the monks who possess the books and parchments."

"Yea, verily; and these last weeks I have mastered in some poor sort the
art of penmanship. And now my father has almost consented to letting me
go. Only he has said that I must wait until chance shall send me a
companion for the way. From time to time there pass by clerks and
scholars returning to Oxford after an absence, or making their way
thither, even as thou art doing; and my father has promised that I may
join myself to the next of these who shall pass by. Now thou dost
understand why I did so embrace thee. For if thou wilt have me for a
travelling companion, we may e'en start forth to-morrow, and find
ourselves in Oxford ere another week be passed."

No proposition could have been more welcome to Leofric. He had had
enough of loneliness, and this sturdy farmer's son would be the best
possible comrade for him. He was delighted at the notion. His canoe
would carry the double burden, and the fatigues of navigation would be
greatly lessened when shared between two.

"Come up to the farm with me," cried his new friend, "and there will be
bed and board and a hearty welcome for thee; thou shalt find there a
better lodging than in some hollow tree by the river-banks; and my
mother will give us provision enow ere we start forth upon our voyage
to-morrow."

Leofric was grateful indeed for this invitation. He made fast his canoe,
saw that his few possessions were safely protected from a possible
wetting, and followed his new friend along the narrow winding track
which led from the river-side to the clearing round the farmstead.

On the way he learned that his companion's name was John
Dugdale--commonly called Jack. The farm where he had lived all his life
was situated not more than five miles from the town of Banbury. Jack had
plainly heard more of the news of the world than had reached Leofric in
his quiet home on the upper river. Something of the stir and strife that
was agitating the kingdom had penetrated even to this lonely farm.

The great Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, had passed through
Banbury on his way from Kenilworth to London, not long ago. There was a
great stir amongst the people, Jack told Leofric, and men spoke of the
Earl as a saviour and deliverer, and he was received with something very
like royal honours when he appeared. Leofric asked what it was from
which he was to deliver the people, and Jack was not altogether clear as
to this; but it had something to do with the exactions of the King and
the Pope; and he was almost certain that the clergy themselves were as
angry with the King as the Barons could be. He had heard it said that
half the revenue of the realm was being taken to enrich the coffers of
the Pope, or to aid him in his wars. More than that Jack could not say,
rumours of so many kinds being afloat.

"But let us once get to Oxford, good comrade, and we shall soon learn
all this, and many another thing besides. I want to know what the world
is saying and thinking. I am weary of being stranded here like a leaf
that has floated into some backwater and cannot find the channel again.
I want to know these things; and if there be stirring times to come for
this land, as many men say there will, I would be in the forefront of it
all. I would wield the sword as well as the pen."

This was a new idea to Leofric, who had contented himself hitherto with
dreams of scholastic distinction, without considering those other
matters which were exercising the ruling spirits of his day. Jack's
words, however, brought home to him the consciousness that there would
be other matters of interest to engross him, once let him enter upon
the life of a rising city. Oxford could not but be a centre of vitality
for the whole kingdom. Once let him win his way within those walls, and
a new world would open before his eyes.

Talking eagerly together, the lads pursued their way through the forest
path, and suddenly emerged upon the clearing where the farmhouse stood.
Lights shone hospitably from door and window; a barking of dogs gave a
welcome to the son of the house; and Leofric speedily found himself
pushed within a great raftered kitchen, lighted by the blaze of a goodly
fire of logs, where he was quickly surrounded by friendly faces, and
welcomed heartily, even before Jack had told all his tale and explained
who the stranger was.

The Dugdales were honest farmer folks, always glad to welcome a passing
stranger, and to hear any item of news he might come furnished with.
Leofric had little enough of this commodity; but the fact that he was
making his way to Oxford as a prospective clerk there was a matter of
much interest to this household. Farmer Dugdale was a man of his word.
He had promised Jack to let him go so soon as he should find a companion
to travel with. He would have preferred as companion one who had had
previous experience of University life; but he would not go back on his
word on that account. Leofric's handsome and open face and winning
manner gained him the good-will of all at the farm: they pressed him to
remain their guest for a few days, whilst Jack's mother made her simple
preparations for sending out her boy into the world for an indefinite
time, and the two companions learned to know each other better.

Leofric was willing enough to do this. He was very happy amongst these
hearty, homely people, and became attached to all of them, especially to
Jack. Together they strengthened the canoe, made a locker in which to
stow away sufficient provision for the journey, and a second paddle for
Jack to wield, which he quickly learned to do with skill and address.

Jack's mother took Leofric to her motherly heart at once, and she made
sundry additions to his scanty stock of clothing, seeing that his
equipment equalled that of her own son. It was little enough when all
was said and done; for times were simple, and luxuries unknown and
undreamed of, save in the houses of great nobles. The boys felt rich
indeed as they beheld their outfits made ready for them, and there was
quite a feast held in their honour upon the last evening ere they
launched forth upon their long journey.

Happy as Leofric had been at the farm, he was still conscious of a
thrill of pleasure when he and Jack dipped their paddles and set forth
upon their journey together. The Dugdale family, assembled on the banks,
gave them a hearty cheer. They answered by an eager hurrah, and then,
shooting round a bend in the stream, they found themselves alone on the
sparkling waterway.

To Leofric this voyage was very different from the last. There were the
same obstacles and difficulties to be overcome, but these seemed small
now that they were shared between two. Jack was strong, patient, and
merry. He made light of troubles and laughed at mishaps. They fared
sumptuously from the well-stocked larder of the farm, and the weather
was warm and sunny. To make a bed of leaves in some hollow tree, and
bathe in the clear, cold river on awaking, was no hardship to either
lad. They declared they did not mind how long the journey lasted, save
for the natural impatience of youth to arrive at a given destination.

"And I should like an adventure," quoth Jack, "ere we sight the walls
and towers of Oxford Castle. Men talk of the perils of travel; but,
certes, we have seen nothing of them. I've had more adventure tackling a
great pike in the stream at home sometimes than we have seen so far."

Nevertheless Jack was to have his wish, and the travellers were to meet
with an adventure before they reached their journey's end.

It came about in this wise.

They knew that they must be drawing near their journey's end. They had
been told by a woodman, whose hut had given them shelter upon the last
night, that the forest and palace of Woodstock were near at hand. They
wanted to get a view of that royal residence. So upon the day following
they halted soon after mid-day, and leaving their canoe securely hidden
in some drooping alder bushes, they struck away along a forest track
described to them by the woodman, which would, if rightly followed,
conduct them to a hill from whence a view could be obtained of the
palace.

Walking was tedious and difficult, and they often lost their way in the
intricacies of the forest; but still they persevered, and were rewarded
at last by a partial view of the place, which was a finer building than
either of the lads had ever seen before. But the sun was getting low in
the sky by this time, and they had still to make their way back to their
boat, unless they were to sleep supperless in the forest; so they did
not linger long upon the brow of the hill, but quickly retraced their
steps through the forest, trying to keep at least in the right
direction, even though they might miss the actual path by which they had
come.

Suddenly they became aware of a tumult going on in a thicket not very
far away. They heard the sound of blows, of cries and shouts--then of
oaths and more blows. Plainly there was a fight going on somewhere close
at hand, and equally plain was it that travellers were being robbed and
maltreated by some forest ruffians, of whom there were always a number
in all the royal forests, where fat bucks might chance to be shot,
undetected by the king's huntsmen.

The lads had both cut themselves stout staffs to beat down the
obstructions in the path. Now they grasped their cudgels tightly in
their hands and looked at each other.

"Let us to the rescue!" quoth Jack, between his clenched teeth. "I can
never hear the sound of blows without longing to be in the thick of the
fray. Like enough in the gathering shades the assailants will think we
be a larger party, and will make off. Be that as it may, let us lend
our aid whilst it may serve those in distress."

Leofric nodded, grasping his staff firmly in his hand. He had all the
courage of a highly-strung nature, even if he lacked Jack's physical
vigour.

Springing through the leafy glades of the forest, they soon came upon
the scene of the encounter, and easy was it to see that robbery and
spoliation was the object of the attack.

Four stalwart young men, wild and dishevelled of aspect, armed with
stout cudgels and bows and arrows, had set upon two travellers, whose
clothes denoted them to be men of substance. They had been overpowered
by their assailants, though plainly not till a severe struggle had taken
place. Both were now lying upon the ground, overmastered each by a pair
of strong knaves; and in spite of their cries and struggles, it was
plain that these sturdy robbers were rifling them of such valuables as
they possessed.

Jack took in the situation at a glance. With a yell of defiance he
sprang upon the nearest rogue, and hurled him backwards with such right
good will that he reeled heavily against a tree trunk, and fell
prostrate, half stunned. In a second the traveller had wrenched himself
free from the other assailant, and had dealt him such a sounding blow
across the pate (he having laid aside his stick in order the better to
plunder) that he measured his length upon the turf, and lay motionless;
whilst the other pair of bandits, who had been belaboured by Leofric,
seeing that they were now overpowered and in no small danger of
capture, flung down their booty and made off to the woods, dragging
their helpless comrade with them.

It was no part of the travellers' plan to take into custody these
knaves, and they made no attempt to detain them, glad enough to see them
make off in the darkening forest. But they turned to their preservers
with words of warm gratitude, and showed how narrowly they had escaped
being muleted of rather large sums of money; for one had a belt into
which many broad gold pieces had been sewn, and the purse of the other
was heavy and well plenished.

"We are travelling to Oxford," said he of the belt. "We joined for a
time the convoy of one of the 'fetchers,' conveying young lads and poor
clerks thither. But as we neared the place we grew impatient at the
thought of another night's halt, and thought we would strike across the
forest ourselves, and reach our goal soon after sundown. But we missed
our way, and these fellows set upon us. It is a trade with some lewd
fellows calling themselves clerks, and often pleading benefit of clergy
if caught, to infest these woods, and fall upon scholars returning to
the University, and rob them of such moneys as they bear upon their
persons."

Leofric's eyes were wide with amaze.

"Surely those fellows were not clerks from Oxford?"

"Like enow they were. There be a strange medley of folks calling
themselves by that name that frequent the streets and lanes of the city,
or congregate without the walls in hovels and booths. Some of these,
having neither means to live nor such characters as render them fit
subjects to be helped from any of the chests, take to the woods for a
livelihood, shooting the King's bucks or falling unawares upon
travellers. Some clerks run to the woods for refuge after some wild
outbreak of lawlessness. There be many wild, lawless knaves habited in
the gown of the clerk and wearing the tonsure. Are ye twain from Oxford
yourselves, or bound thither, since ye seem little acquaint with the
ways of the place?"

Explanations were quickly made, and the two elder youths, who might have
been eighteen and nineteen years old perhaps, suggested that they should
finish the journey together on foot, lading themselves with the contents
of the canoe, but leaving it behind in the alders, to be fetched away
some other time if wanted. They were near to the river by this time, and
the lads quickly fetched their goods, glad enough to travel into the
city in company with two comrades who plainly knew the place and the
life right well.

They were very open about themselves. The name of one was Hugh le
Barbier, and he was the son of an esquire who held a post in the house
of one of the retainers of the Earl of Leicester--"the great De
Montfort," as the youth proudly dubbed him. His companion was Gilbert
Barbeck, son of a rich merchant. His home was in the south of England,
but he had been travelling with Hugh, during an interlude in their
studies. In those days regular vacations were unknown. Men might stay
for years at the University, hearing lectures all the time through; or
they might betake themselves elsewhere, and return again and resume
their studies, without reproof. The collegiate system was as yet
unknown, though its infancy dates from a period only a little later. But
there was a Chancellor of the University (if such it could be called),
and learned men from all lands had congregated there; lectures in Arts
and also in the sciences were regularly given, and degrees could be
taken by those who could satisfy the authorities that they had been
through the appointed courses of lectures, and were competent in their
turn to teach.

The religious houses had been the pioneers in this movement, but now
there was a reaction in favour of more secular teaching. The monks had
some ado to hold their own, and obtain as many privileges as were
accorded to others; and friction was constantly arising.

Moreover the recent migration of friars to Oxford had struck another
blow at the older monastic system. The personal sanctity of many of
these men, their self-denying life, their powers of preaching, the
strictness with which they kept their vows, all served to produce a deep
impression upon the minds of those who had grown weary of the arrogance
of the Priors and Abbots.

The Grey Friars in particular, followers of St. Francis, were
universally beloved and esteemed. They went about barefoot; they would
scarce receive alms in money; their buildings were of the poorest and
roughest, and were situated in the lowest parts of the town. They busied
themselves amongst the sick and destitute; they lived lives of
self-denial and toil. The favour of princes had not corrupted them, and
the highest powers of the land spoke well of them.

Hugh told all this to his comrades as they walked through the darkening
forest. He was plainly a youth of good parts and gentle blood, and he
seemed taken by Leofric's refined appearance and thoughtful face.

"I would not go to Osney, or live in the Domus Dei there," he said.
"Thou hast saved me the loss of all my wealth; it would go hard if thou
wouldst not accept the loan of a few gold pieces, enough to establish
thyself in some modest lodging in the town, or even in one of the empty
niches upon the walls, where clerks have made shift to dwell ere now.
Out beyond the walls, shut up on the island of Osney, away from all the
bustle and roistering and tumult of the town, it scarce seems life at
all; and methinks the monks will get hold of thee, and win thee to be
one of themselves. Better, far better, be one of us in the town. Then
wilt thou see all that is to be seen, and learn far more, too, than thou
wilt in the schools of the monks."

Leofric listened eagerly to this advice.

"Is Osney then without the walls?"

"Ay verily, on one of the many islands that the river makes in its
windings. Oxford itself is little more than an island, for that matter,
since the city ditch has been dug on the north side of it. But within
the city there is life and stir and stress, and all the Halls where the
students lodge are there, and the lodgings amongst the townsfolks which
some prefer. Come and belong to us, not to the monks. So wilt thou
learn the more, and enjoy life as thou couldst not do cooped up on yon
damp island in the Domus Dei?"

"I would fain do so," answered Leofric readily. "I have no desire for a
monkish life. I would see what life is like without the cloister wall.
But I have little money; I love not debts--"

"Tush! be not over scrupulous. Thou hast done me one good turn; I claim
right to do thee another. Now no more of that. Let us put our best foot
forward; for it will be dark ere we reach our destination. Perchance we
may yet have to camp once more in the woods; for if the city gates be
locked, we may have some trouble in getting admitted. The townsmen,
albeit they live and thrive by them, love not the clerks. They will do
us a bad turn an they can; yet methinks we are even with them, take one
thing with another!"

Hugh showed his teeth in a flashing smile, and Gilbert laughed aloud.
Then the party strode on through the darkness, till they paused by
common consent to light a fire and camp for the night in company--it
being plain by this time that they could not enter Oxford that night.




CHAPTER III.

_OLD OXFORD._


With glowing cheeks and beating hearts, Leofric Wyvill and Jack Dugdale
beheld the walls of Oxford towering above them in the clear morning
sunlight.

For many long hours during the previous night had the four travellers
sat over their camp fire, listening and telling of the life of the
mediaeval University city. Already Leofric and Jack felt a thrill of
pride in the thought that they were to be numbered amongst its sons;
already they had wellnigh made up their minds that they would set up
together in some nook or turret in the city walls, make a sort of eyry
there for themselves, and live frugally upon the small sum of money they
possessed, until they were able to earn something towards their own
maintenance, or could borrow from one of the "chests" provided for the
benefit of poor students.

Hugh had carried his point, and Leofric's purse now held a few gold
pieces as well as his own small store of silver. By the exercise of
economy the two friends would be able to live in modest comfort for a
considerable time, and Leofric, at least, hoped before long to earn
money by his penmanship and talent in illuminating parchments.

[Illustration: PLAN OF OXFORD

SHOWING THE POSITION OF

THE ANCIENT HALLS, etc.,

ACCORDING TO WOOD.

_12th and 13th Centuries._]

They knew by this time where their new comrades lived. Gilbert had a
lodging with an honest citizen of the name of Seaton, who kept a shop
hard by Carfax, and sold provisions of all sorts to clerks and others.
He was one of the burgher class, who contrived to keep on good terms
both with the scholars and his fellow-citizens, and in the frequent
collisions between "town and gown"--to borrow the modern phrase--he
stood good-humouredly aloof, and would not take sides in any dispute.

Hugh lived in one of the many Halls which had sprung up within the city
walls. These were not collegiate institutions, but were merely places of
abode, hired perhaps by a number of clerks collectively, perhaps by some
master, who received inmates as boarders. They lived in these houses,
and took their meals there--everything being of the roughest and
simplest description--and attended lectures in the different schools
according to their own fancy. Some of the richer students enlisted the
services of a tutor; but many lived a free and lawless existence,
learning almost nothing, frequenting lecture just for the fashion of the
thing, but making no progress in scholarship, and spending the best part
of the day in amusement or fighting.

In the schools attached to the religious houses there was more order,
more comfort, and more decency of life than in these self-constituted
Halls; but amongst such clerks as had no leaning towards the religious
life there was a strong feeling of preference for simply secular abodes;
and there were difficulties between the monks and the University
authorities with reference to the course in Arts which held back many
from attaching themselves to the monastic schools.

All this Leofric and Jack had been told with more or less of detail, and
already Leofric was resolved against settling himself upon Osney Island,
in the Domus Dei there. He would present his letter to the Abbot, but
not until he had made a nook for himself somewhere else. Gilbert
declared that he knew of a little turret in the city wall, not far from
Smith Gate, in which two students had lived for a considerable time. If
it were empty, they could take possession of it, and by the expenditure
of a little money and ingenuity could transform it into quite a
respectable living-chamber for themselves. Many a poor clerk had
inhabited a chamber of that sort before, and Jack and Leofric secretly
thought that they should prefer the quiet life on the wall to the noise
and confusion which plainly too often reigned in the various Halls.

"We will go in by Smith Gate, and see if the turret be empty," said
Gilbert; "if so, these lads can take possession forthwith, and we will
show them where they can provide themselves with such things as be
needful for them."

They were nearing the city by now. Already there had spread beyond the
walls a certain number of Halls and other buildings. The Church of St.
Mary Magdalene and the colony of the Austin Friars were without the wall
on the northern side, and a few Halls had sprung up along Horsemonger
Street, as it was then called, which was on the north side of the city
ditch, where Broad Street now runs.

The Austin Friars were only just beginning to appear in Oxford; but the
Black, White, and Grey Friars had already obtained a footing in the
city. As the travellers approached the gate, they saw the cowled figures
flitting about, some with black habits over their long white
under-dress, some with a simple gown of grey or brown, bound with a cord
at the waist. These latter, who all (save the old and infirm) went
barefoot, were the Franciscans or Minorites--the Grey Friars of whom the
lads had heard; and they regarded them with curiosity and veneration,
believing them to be full of sanctity and virtue.

Out through the gate, just as the youths approached it, came a couple of
Masters in their gowns and hoods. Leofric and Jack scanned them
curiously, and eagerly inquired of their companions who they were.

"Nay, I know not the names of all the Masters in the city," answered
Hugh, laughing; "there be too many for that. Belike they have been
lecturing in School Street this forenoon, and are going back to their
Halls. Some of these same Masters will like enough come and invite you
twain to attend their lectures; but give not too ready an answer to the
first who asks. Rather visit several and pick out those who please you
most. It is oft the poorest and least learned who are most eager for
listeners, the better sort having always their lecture-rooms full."

And now they were actually within the city precincts. Smith Gate being
so close to School Street, the eager eyes of the two new-comers were
immediately gratified by the sight of many hurrying figures of clerks
and Bachelors and Masters, some going this way and some the other,
talking earnestly together, disputing with some warmth and eloquence, or
singing snatches of songs, like boys released from school.

It was not easy for unaccustomed eyes to distinguish the rank of the
various passers-by; for academic dress was still in its infancy, and
there were few, if any, statutory rules respecting it. The habit of the
clerk was very much what he wore at home, and the black cappa of
Bachelor or Master was often the same, though Masters were beginning to
wear the square, tufted cap, and had the right to the miniver hood of
the nobles and beneficed ecclesiastics. The scarlet gown of the Doctor
had just come into use, but was at present seldom seen, as many were
unable to purchase so costly a robe. The most common garment for every
person in the University was the "tabard" with the girdle, and these
tabards might be either red, black, or green; but black was the
commonest colour, as being the most serviceable in daily wear.

Fain would the lads have lingered to watch the shifting throng of clerks
and their preceptors, as they streamed out from the lecture-rooms for
the mid-day meal; but Hugh and Gilbert laughed at their eager curiosity,
and drew them along to the left down Hammer Hall Lane, pausing suddenly
upon reaching a small turret in the wall, which once had been open to
the street, but was now closed in by a few mouldering boards.

"Good!" cried Gilbert, as he pulled aside one of the boards; "the place
has not been taken. Now look well at it, you two, and see if you think
you can make shift to live here till a better place offers."

Pushing their way within the circular recess, the lads saw that a rude
stairway led up to some sort of chamber overhead. Mounting the rickety
steps with care--for they had become loose and rotten--they found
themselves in a small and not unpleasing little chamber, lighted by
several long, narrow loopholes, and roofed in securely from the weather
overhead.

The flooring was rather decayed, and there was a mouldering smell
pervading the place; but its former occupants had done various things to
render habitation possible. A fireplace and chimney had been contrived
in one corner, and some rude shutters had been affixed to keep out the
cold air at night, or in inclement weather. A rickety shelf that would
serve as a table still hung drooping from its nail. Plainly the place
had been lived in before, and might well be again. Leofric and Jack
looked round it, and smiled at one another.

"We could live here like princes, if there be nothing to hinder," said
the latter. "Can we come and fix our abode here without making payment
to any one?"

"Marry yes, since nobody uses the place. There be many such nooks along
the walls, and poor clerks have settled themselves there again and
again, no man saying them nay. In times of war they might post archers
or marksmen at these loopholes; but short of a siege, I trow none will
disturb you. And from without ye can climb easily upon the wall, and
enjoy the air and watch what goes on beneath. Also there be the Fish
Ponds just below, and I warrant ye will catch many a good supper from
thence when ye be in need of a good meal."

Jack laughed, for he had no small skill as a fisherman; but just now he
was all agog to see Oxford and settle into these new quarters.

"Had I but a few tools and some boards, I would fix us up bench and
table, mend the stairs and the floor, and make the place as comfortable
as heart could wish," he cried.

"And I would gather rushes for the floor, and wood for the fire, and we
should feast right royally on the last of the provisions we laid up for
the way," added Leofric.

"Then come away to Carfax, where ye can lay in such stores as ye need,"
cried Gilbert. "I will take you to honest Master Seaton, where I have
always lodged. He will tell you where to go for all ye need, and the
right price to pay: for there be dealers in the city who seek to mulct
clerks and scholars, and charge them more than the fair price for goods;
and the Chancellor, and even his Majesty the King, have had to
interpose."

"What is Carfax?" asked Leofric, as, after depositing their goods
carefully in the turret, they replaced the boards and sallied forth once
more.

"Why, the meeting of the four great streets of the town--Quatrevois some
folks call it--where High Street, Great Bayly Street, Fish Street, and
North Gate Street all meet. St. Martin's Church is there with its great
bell, and whenever there be strife 'twixt citizens and clerks, that
bell booms out to gather the citizens together; whilst our
rallying-point is St. Mary's, whose bell rings to warn us that they are
rising against us. At other times Carfax is the chief mart of the city,
and the bull-ring stands in the centre. But come, and thou shalt see for
thyself; and good Master Seaton will give us all some dinner, I trow."

Gilbert led the way, and the rest followed him willingly. The streets
had thinned considerably, the noontide hour having driven in clerks and
masters alike to their dinner. Gilbert strode down Cat Street, and
pointed out to his comrades several Halls situated there, and sounds of
laughter and loud talking and jesting broke upon the ears of the
passers-by, plainly indicating the proximity of considerable numbers of
inhabitants.

"That was the Hall where I lived last," observed Hugh, as he pointed to
a house, somewhat better than the rest, on the left-hand side as they
walked down Cat Street. "Corbett's Hall it was then called; and the
Master was an excellent man. I heard he was about to go elsewhere;
probably I shall find a new head by now. But I will not pause there now;
I will wait till the fetcher has brought in my goods and chattels. I
will come with you to Carfax, and pay my respects to good Master Seaton
first."

So on went the four, the pair who had never before seen a town gazing
with wonder at the quaint-timbered houses on either side the street,
whose projecting upper floors seemed almost to meet overhead. There was
no footpath or paving of any sort; the roadway was but a track, deep in
mud in winter, and in dust in summer. St. Mark's Church at the corner,
where they turned into High Street, brought Leofric to a standstill, for
such edifices were new to him; but his companions laughed and hurried
him on, telling him he could drink his fill of churches in Oxford any
day he chose, but that Master Seaton's dinner would not wait for his
leisure.

On they went along this wider thoroughfare, not pausing to examine
anything in detail, but taking in the general effect of a populated
city, which was immensely wonderful to the two lads from the country,
till Gilbert pointed to a tall tower standing out against the sunny sky,
and said,--

"Yon is St. Martin's Church, and this is Carfax."

It was, as he had said before, just a meeting of the ways, but such a
sight as it presented Leofric and Jack had never dreamed of. The open
place seemed full of people: there were stalls on which merchandise of
all sorts was being vended; loud-voiced salesmen were crying their
wares, or chaffering over bargains with customers. There were shops,
with signs swinging over them, that displayed a better sort of ware; and
lads of all ages, from thirteen upwards, in the tabard of clerks, were
strolling about, buying or examining goods, or exchanging a rough sort
of banter with the townsmen. A few Masters or Bachelors would be seen
threading their way through the crowd, but they did not often linger to
speak to any; it was the clerks who seemed to have all the leisure, and
some of these were playing games or throwing dice, whilst others looked
on, encouraging or jibing the players.

"Heed not that rabble rout," said Gilbert, forcing his way towards a
rather fine-timbered house at the corner, where Fish and High Streets
joined; "come to Master Seaton's house, and let us hear all the news."

Gilbert led the way into a shop, where he was greeted somewhat
boisterously by a merry-looking youth behind the counter. He nodded a
reply, and pushed open a door which gave access to a steep and narrow
staircase, and after ascending this he opened another door, and
instantly a number of voices were raised in welcome and greeting.

Gilbert and Hugh pushed into the room from whence these sounds issued,
whilst Leofric and Jack stood together just on the threshold, gazing
about them with curious eyes.

They saw before them a quaint, pleasant room, rush-strewn, and plainly
furnished with table and benches, in which a party of six was gathered,
seated round the board, which was hospitably spread with solid viands.

The master of the house was easily distinguished by his air of authority
and his general appearance. His wife was a comely dame, ruddy of face
and kindly of aspect. On either side of her sat a pretty maiden, one of
sixteen, another of fourteen summers; and the good-looking, strapping
youth, who was now greeting Gilbert and Hugh right eagerly, was very
plainly the son of the house. An apprentice looked on wide-eyed and
silent at the apparition of four strangers; yet it was plain that
neither Gilbert nor Hugh were so regarded in the Seaton household.

Not only were they joyfully received themselves, but their two comrades
quickly shared in the hospitable welcome. They were placed at the table,
their trenchers were heaped with good food, and the story of the
encounter in the forest was eagerly listened to by all.

"There be many poor rogues who have taken to the forest in these times
of scarcity," said Hal Seaton, the son. "The harvests have been bad, and
prices have been raised; and the idle and prodigal have had much ado to
keep body and soul together. Sometimes they take to theft and pillage,
and then flee to the forest for safety; and some go thither in the hope
of killing a fine buck unseen by the huntsmen, or to rob unwary
travellers, especially those that be coming with full purses to pursue
their studies here."

"Ay, and there be some that think there will be fighting ere long 'twixt
his Majesty the King and the Barons," added Seaton himself gravely.
"Heaven send such a thing come not to pass! It is ill work when brother
takes up arms against brother, and city against city."

The youths would willingly have asked more of the state of parties at
this stirring season, but just now personal matters were of more
pressing importance. So they left politics for another time, and told
about the turret hard by Smith Gate, where Leofric and Jack were about
to ensconce themselves; and Hal begged a half-holiday from his duties in
the shop, that he might take his tools, and some odds and ends of planks
lying about in the workshop behind, and help the lads to settle
themselves in.

This was willingly accorded, and Master Seaton and his wife both showed
great kindness to the would-be clerks. The former unearthed from his
stores some strong sacking fashioned into huge bags, that, stuffed with
straw or dead leaves, did excellently for bedding; and the latter put up
in a basket a liberal supply of food from her well-stocked larder, for
her motherly heart went out towards the two lonely lads, coming to
settle in a strange city, knowing nothing of the life before them.
Leofric's blue eyes and gentle manners won her affections from the
first, and no one could help liking honest Jack, who was so merry and so
full of hope and courage.

Laden with a number of useful odds and ends, the little party made their
way back to the turret chamber; and soon the sound of hammer, chisel,
and saw spoke of rapid advance in the necessary work.

Leofric crossed the river again to gather dead leaves and bracken for
bedding, wood for firing, and rushes for the floor. By the time he had
collected and brought in sufficient stores, the work overhead had
rapidly progressed, and he uttered an exclamation of delighted
astonishment as he beheld the result of the afternoons toil.

The stairs and flooring were mended, rudely, to be sure, but strongly.
Something like a fastening had been contrived to the lower entrance, so
that they could use the basement of the turret as a storehouse for wood
and other odds and ends. Up above, the little chamber began to look
quite comfortable. The holes in the masonry had been filled up with
mortar or patched by boards. The window shutters had been mended, and
could now be used for keeping out inclement wind. One of the loopholes
had actually been glazed by Hal's deft fingers, and he promised to keep
his eyes open for any chance of picking up some more glass, so that the
others might be served in the same way. To be sure, the glass of those
days was none too translucent, and save in very cold weather, it was
pleasanter to have the loopholes open to the light of day; but if heavy
rain or bitter cold should drive the occupants to close their shutters,
it was certainly advantageous if one or two of the narrow slits could be
glazed, so that they would not be left in total darkness.

The shelf table against the wall had been mended, and two stools of a
suitable height contrived. When the fire was lighted on the hearth, and
the smoke had been coaxed to make its way up the chimney, the place wore
a really cosy and home-like aspect, which was greatly enhanced after the
floor was strewn with rushes, and the two mattresses stuffed and laid
side by side in a little recess. The spare habits of the boys were hung
against the wall on pegs, and their few worldly possessions laid in
order upon the shelf which had been fixed up to receive them.

"I vow," cried Hugh, as he looked around him, "that I would almost
sooner have such a lodging as this than spend my days in a Hall. There
be Halls where fires are scarce known save in the coldest weather, and
where the rushes lie on the floor till they rot, and become charged with
so much filth that the stench drives the luckless clerks out into the
streets. It hath not been so where I have lodged, 'tis true; but there
be Halls wherein I would not set foot for the noisome state they are
in."

Leofric and Jack were charmed with their quarters, and when their guests
had bid them good-bye, and they had fastened themselves in for the
night, they looked at each other with a sense of triumph and joy. Here
they were, established as a pair of clerks in a lodging of their own in
Oxford, where none was likely to molest them. They had money in their
purses enough to last them a considerable time. They had made kind
friends who would help them through the difficulties and perplexities of
their first days; and surely before long they would find themselves at
home in this strange city, and would enter into its busy life (of which
they had caught glimpses to-day) with the zeal and energy of true
students.

As they sat at their table, partaking with good appetite, though
frugally, of the provisions left from the journey, seasoned by some of
Mistress Seaton's dainties, they spoke together of their plans for the
morrow.

"Methinks I should go to Osney, and present my letter. But I shall have
no need to ask for shelter in the Domus Dei, seeing how well we be
sheltered here."

"And I would fain see something of the good Grey Friars, of whom so much
good is spoken in the town," answered Jack; "and we must seek out such
Masters as we would learn from, and find out what fee we must pay to
attend their lectures. It is not much, methinks, that each clerk gives,
but we must be careful how we part with our money, for we may not find
it easy to put silver in our purse when our store has melted away."

"I shall ask the Abbot of Osney if he will give me vellum or parchment
to illuminate, for I have some skill that way," said Leofric; "I used to
help the monks of St. Michael. I might e'en do the same here; and,
perchance, I might teach thee too, good Jack."

Jack looked at his rough, red hands, and shook his head.

"I can make shift to read and write, but I never could do such work as
that," he answered. "I will fish in the ponds, and snare rabbits in the
woods, and make bread of mystelton for us to eat. My care shall be the
larder, and thou shalt have leisure for work if thou canst get it. So
will we live right royally in our nook, and learn all that Oxford can
teach us!"




CHAPTER IV.

_THE FIRST DAY._


The lads slept soundly in their new quarters, but awoke with the first
light of day, eager to enter upon the strange life of the city. Making
their way first to the top of the wall, they had a good look round them
over the still sleeping town; and then finding a place where, by the
exercise of a little activity, they could clamber down on the outer
side, they refreshed themselves by a plunge in the Fish Ponds, by way of
ablutions, and returned through the gate to their lodging.

They had a great curiosity to go forth together and see the city, but
they did not intend immediately to decide upon the preceptor they should
follow. Just at starting they felt almost too excited to settle to
regular study, and the visit to the Abbot of Osney was the first
business of the day.

Putting on their better habits, and making themselves as trim and neat
as circumstances permitted, the boys sallied forth, and took the way to
Carfax as before. They knew that Osney lay to the west of the city wall,
beyond the Castle, and they had a great wish to see that building at
close quarters; so they pursued their way along Great Bayly Street, till
they reached the mound itself, crowned with its frowning walls and
battlements.

As they passed along they saw not only numbers of clerks sallying forth
to their daily lectures, but great numbers of the Black Friars, who
appeared to be exercising considerable activity. Some were wheeling
little trucks or carts which held loads of what appeared to be goods and
chattels, and they appeared to be very busy, passing to and fro with
their loads or their empty trucks, like a colony of industrious ants.

"What are they doing?" asked Jack of a bystander.

"Removing themselves from the Jewry to the new House that the King's
Majesty has bestowed upon them without the city walls through Little
Gate and down Milk Street," was the answer. "They came and settled in
the Jews' quarter, hoping to convert the Hebrew dogs to the true faith;
but methinks they have but a sorry record of converts. Anyhow they are
going thence, and their new house is all but ready. A few may linger on
in the Jewry, but the most part will fare forth to the more commodious
building yonder."

Having thus satisfied their curiosity on that score, the boys passed
onwards to the Castle, and just as they approached the West Gate, they
were in time to prevent something of a catastrophe. As they drew near,
they perceived that a young lady, mounted on a fair palfrey, was
approaching from the outer side. She was quite young, perhaps fifteen or
sixteen, and was very fair to look upon. Her hair was a dusky chestnut
colour, and was loosened by the exercise of riding, so that it framed
her face like a soft cloud. Her eyes were bright and soft and dark, and
her figure was as light and graceful as that of a sylph. As the two lads
passed under the gateway, marking her approach, they bared their heads,
and glanced at her with honest admiration in their eyes.

The little lady noticed their salutation, and returned it with a gentle
dignity of manner; but just at that moment a piece of rag lying in the
gutter was suddenly whirled round and up by a gust of wind, right
against the face of the spirited little barb she was riding.

The creature suddenly took fright, reared up on its hind legs, and then
made a sudden swerve, dashing off along West Gate Street at a headlong
pace.

But luckily the girl rider was not borne away too in this reckless
fashion. When the creature started and reared so violently, she had been
almost unseated; and Leofric, seeing this, had with one quick movement
thrown his arm about her; and as soon as the palfrey swerved and made
off, the lady was simply lifted from her seat and gently set down by the
strong arms of both lads--for Jack had rushed up to give assistance.

She stood now in the roadway, dazed, but safe, looking from one of her
preservers to the other, and faltering out broken words of thanks.

Then the servant who had been behind, and who had in vain striven to
stop the runaway horse, rode up, lifted the little lady to his saddle,
and carried her away, before she had sufficiently recovered her breath
to do more than wave her hand to her two deliverers.

The sentry at the gate, who had now come up, looked after them with a
laugh.

"Old Ralph is a grim guardian. He will never let his young mistress have
speech of any. But I doubt not when it comes to the ears of the
Constable, he will seek you out to reward you; for fair Mistress Alys is
as the apple of his eye."

"Who was the lady?" asked Jack eagerly.

"Mistress Alys de Kynaston, only daughter of the Constable of the
Castle, Sir Humphrey de Kynaston. They say she is the very light of the
house, and I can well believe it."

After a little more talk about the Castle and its Custodian, the sentry
directed the lads how to find Osney Abbey; and after crossing
Bookbinders' Bridge and passing the Almshouses, they quickly approached
the gate by which access was had to the Abbey itself.

It was a fine building, inhabited by the Canons Regular of St.
Augustine. There were the Chapel, dedicated to St. Nicholas, the fine
cloistered refectory, the Dormitory, the Abbot's Lodging, to say nothing
of the fine kitchens, and the Domus Dei of which mention has been made.

The present Abbot was Richard de Appelton, and when Leofric presented
his letter and asked speech of him, he was ushered into the presence of
the great man with very little delay.

Strangers, even youthful strangers, were always received hospitably at
the religious houses, and the Abbot, after reading the letter of his
friend, spoke kindly to the boys, asking them whether they desired the
shelter of the Domus Dei.

Leofric explained what had befallen him since that letter was penned,
and how he had met with kind friends, and had already found a lodging
within the walls of the town. The Abbot stroked his shaven chin, and
looked from Jack to Leofric, letting his eyes rest somewhat longer upon
the face of the latter as he said,----

"So thou art not as yet disposed to the religious life? Yet thou hast
the face of a godly youth."

"I trust we may yet be godly without the cloister wall," answered
Leofric modestly. "It is not for roistering and revelry that we have
chosen to live within the town, but we would fain have some small spot
that we may call our own, and I had thought that perchance I might turn
such skill as I have in penmanship to account, so that I might earn fees
for----"

"Ah yes, I know what thou wouldst say. Perchance we can give thee some
work of that kind from time to time. But there be other ways of winning
money too, open to poor clerks. Thou canst say a prayer or a grace at
some rich man's table, or the Chancellor will give thee a licence to beg
for thy maintenance. A likely youth, with a face like thine, will not
find living hard. And if thou art ever in any trouble, thou canst always
come to me. The Domus Dei is open to such as thou, and any son who comes
from my good friend the Prior of St. Michael will be welcome for his
sake."

Leofric thanked the Abbot gratefully, and received from him a small
present in money, and two or three squares of vellum, such as were used
in the making of breviaries. This was a very great acquisition for
Leofric, as he could now begin some illuminating or transcribing work in
his leisure hours, and by the sale of this add to their scanty store of
money, and obtain the material for fresh work of a like kind.

This he preferred greatly to begging, notwithstanding that mendicancy
had been made respectable, if not honourable, by the friars, and that to
give alms to a poor clerk, or reward him for singing a "Salve Regina,"
or saying a prayer or grace, was one of the regular and esteemed forms
of charity.

"And remember, good lads, that there are homes in the city open to such
as ye," said the Abbot, as he bid them adieu. "There is Glasson Hall in
the High Street, which pious John Pilet gave to Osney Abbey not long
since. We might find room for the pair of you there, if you were
disturbed in your nest. There is Spalding Court in Cat Street, which the
burgesses of the town have bought for the use of poor clerks; and there
be Halls where the poorer clerks serve the wealthier, and earn a
pittance thus. Ye will find many ways of living; and pray Heaven we have
a good harvest this year, so that the present scarcity may cease."

And with a nod and a word of blessing the Abbot dismissed his young
guests.

"Let us take a prowl round the town," said Jack, as they turned their
backs upon the stately buildings of the Abbey, "there is so much to see
at every turn, and I would fain know the streets and lanes of the city
by heart. We must enter by the West Gate that we left, but we will
wander round the walls and see what lies in the south ward of the city."

Leofric willingly agreed, and they retraced their steps as far as the
gate, where they were at once hailed by the same sentry as had spoken to
them before.

"Fortune favours you, honest lads," he said. "The Constable of the
Castle has just sent down this purse, to be given to the two clerks who
saved the Mistress Alys from hurt when her palfrey took fright," and he
put into the hands of Jack a small leathern satchel, in which were a
goodly number of silver pieces.

"Now this is luck indeed!" cried the youth, as they took their way
onward. "We meet with success at every turn. Methinks that either thou
or I must have been born beneath a lucky star."

But they had little time for discussing their good luck, for almost
immediately they found themselves in the heart of the Grey Friars'
colony, which lay close to the West Gate, just where there was a gap in
the city wall, probably owing to the proximity of a marshy tract which
rendered the protection of the wall of comparatively little use. Trill
Mill Stream wound round the little colony, and formed its southern
limit. The parish was that of St. Ebbs, perhaps the poorest in Oxford.
This was doubtless why the Minorites, or Grey Friars, had made of it
their headquarters. To dwell among the poor, and to live as poorly as
any of them, was their principle and practice; and down in these
low-lying, swampy districts, fever, ague, even leprosy abounded, and the
Friars toiled with might and main amongst the sick.

The boys saw them going forth by twos and threes, or passing in and out
of their low, poverty-stricken buildings. It was against the desires of
their founder that they should ever possess property or aspire to
learning; but the practical inconvenience of the one prohibition, and
the thirst for knowledge which was growing up in the hearts of men at
this time, militated against the strict code of St. Francis.

The Franciscans made their houses as simple and unpretentious as
possible. They lived the most self-denying of lives; but they were
beginning to frequent the schools, and to teach in schools of their own,
and although there were often drawbacks and difficulties placed in the
way of their advancement, they had already many great and notable
scholars in their ranks.

The main difficulty was that by statute no one might begin in theology
who had not first taken a degree in Arts, whilst the vows and rules of
the monks and friars debarred them in many cases from any sort of
secular studies. They were so well qualified to lecture in theology that
it was often difficult to refuse their plea; and yet the statutes stood
in the way.

As the boys reached the corner of Milk Street, they observed a
Franciscan Friar of venerable aspect coming towards them, and
instinctively Leofric bent the knee as if to ask a blessing.

The old man stood still, and smiled benignly. It was one of the
characteristics of the Grey Friars that, in spite of the self-denial and
austerity of their lives, they were more uniformly cheerful, kindly, and
even merry in their talk and ways than any other of the religious
orders. For this reason, perhaps, they were beloved above others; and
the great ones of the world, as well as the poor, came to love and
venerate them.

"Peace be with you, my children," said the Friar. "Come you as strangers
to this city? Methinks you have the air of the country clinging to you
yet."

"We did but arrive yesterday," answered Leofric; "and we have scarce the
right to call ourselves clerks. But that is what we hope to be soon, so
as we can make up our minds where we shall gain the best learning for
such fee as our purse will enable us to give."

"You must needs first study the _Trivium_ and _Quadrivium_ of Arts,"
said the Friar, when he had questioned them a little more as to their
intended manner of life; "but since I hold that no learning is complete
that doth not embrace the study of the Word of God, come ye both, if it
please you and ye have time, to the school of our order, where I strive
to impart a few crumbs of knowledge to our clerks and younger brethren.
Many lads like ye twain come without fee, and glad shall I be if any
poor words of mine can give help or comfort."

The boys would have stammered out some words of thanks, but the Friar
put them aside with a smile.

"Nay, nay, lads, we are sent here not for our own but for others' good.
Ask for the School of the Franciscans, and for Brother Angelus. Most
mornings from nine till eleven I am to be found there. You will be
welcome. Go in peace."

"We will of a surety go," said Leofric, as they pursued their way. "He
had the face of a saint. I trow that this is a right godly place. We get
kindness from all we meet."

"Methinks it is thy face that wins it for us," quoth Jack, with a laugh;
"thou hast somewhat the face of a saint thyself."

There was some shrewd truth in this remark. Leofric's was a countenance
that could not but attract; and at that time there were such numbers of
rude, rough, ill-mannered and ill-living clerks in the place, that
favourable notice was often bestowed upon such as appeared of gentler
nature and manners. All the religious brotherhoods were more or less on
the look-out for likely pupils, and though the more enlightened of their
members would not put pressure upon lads to make too early a choice of
the cloister life, or of that of the friars, they gladly recruited their
ranks from such promising students and clerks as they succeeded in
drawing beneath their influence.

As the boys stood looking down Milk Street, they continued to see the
Black Friars flitting busily to and fro, fetching and carrying their
simple goods and chattels; and prompted by curiosity, they turned into
the Jewry, and were soon gazing with the greatest interest at the Jewish
denizens of that quarter.

The Jews had had a footing in Oxford from the very early days; they had
a synagogue in Fish Street, nearly opposite to St. Aldate's Church. (It
may be noted that the old Fish Street is the present St. Aldate's.) They
were, of course, the most moneyed class in the city, and they had their
own code and manner of life, were exempt from the operation of the
common law, and were treated as serfs of the King. Had it not been that
the Kings protected them from pillage by their neighbours, in order to
plunder them themselves, the Jews would scarcely have continued to
exist. The people hated and feared them, even whilst they borrowed from
them at a rate of usury limited by statute. But they were too valuable
to the Crown to be exterminated, and the Black Friars had settled
amongst them in the hope of effecting their conversion.

For many years they had considerable success, so much so that the King
established a house called the Guild Hall for the reception of the
baptized Hebrews. It was not really their lack of success (although
fewer conversions had taken place of late) but lack of room which
occasioned the flitting of the Black Friars from the Jewry. They were
not all of them leaving immediately, even now; but their new building
was almost complete, and a number of the brothers were about to take
their departure, hence the excitement prevailing in the locality of the
Jewry.

When the lads had gazed their fill at the strange dress and dark faces
of the Jews, and had listened to their talk, and their covert jests as
they secretly derided the Christian brothers who had dwelt so long
amongst them, they turned southward down Fish Street, and then by St.
Frideswyde's Street to the great group of beautiful and ancient
buildings comprising St. Frideswyde's Church and Abbey--the oldest in
Oxford--occupying the site where Christ Church now stands.

Grave, stately looking men walked with slow, meditative steps about the
enclosure in which stood those buildings. They were habited in a long
white coat of cloth down to the heels, girt about with a leather girdle;
over this was a short surplice of linen, and over that again a short
black cape that reached to the elbows. On their shaven heads they wore a
black square steepled cap. These were the Canons Regular of St.
Augustine--the same order as those of Osney.

Here again the walls were broken down, and had crumbled to decay, groves
and meadows and fish ponds extending southward to Trill Mill Stream. The
boys looked about them in silent wonder, but nobody addressed them; and
though they would have liked to steal into the church and see St.
Frideswyde's shrine, they did not venture to do so, fearing that they
would be regarded as intruders in that sacred place.

"Hugh le Barbier was telling me of notable miracles done at yon shrine,"
said Leofric, as they turned away at length up St. Frideswyde's Lane.
"St. Frideswyde was a daughter of an ancient king, and she built a
nunnery here, and was herself a nun. Afterwards it became a place for
monks, and now it is an Abbey; but the shrine of St. Frideswyde still
remains, and great wonders are wrought there."

"Hark!" suddenly cried Jack, whose ears had been more attentive to some
sound in the distance than to his companion's words, "I hear the noise
of a tumult. There is something stirring not far off. Let us e'en run
and see what it be. Methinks I hear the sound of blows and shouts."

Leofric heard the same sound which had attracted Jack's attention. It
seemed to proceed from a short distance off, and they hurried along till
they reached the corner of Great Jewry Lane where it joins Shydyard
Street (now Oriel Street), where the shouting began to take more
articulate form, and the boys heard the words, "North, North!--South,
South!" bawled and yelled from scores of throats.

"It is some fray betwixt the clerks," said Jack, who had not listened
for naught to Gilbert's tales during the night they camped by the fire
in the forest. "Did he not tell us that they were banded into two or
more great bodies, North and South, and that they were ofttimes coming
to blows together? Haply we had better stand close in this doorway, and
let the rout go by. Clerks are killed by their fellows in the open
streets every year, if what we hear be true, for nothing worse than
belonging to the adverse faction."

Leofric, who though no coward was by nature placable, and adverse to
blows, was ready enough to take this counsel, and set his back against
the door in the little porch which offered shelter to the pair. The
fight seemed to be coming their way, and presently a few clerks scudded
by, yelling, laughing, cursing; brandishing their clubs and hurling all
manner of foul and derisive epithets at those behind them, from whom,
however, they evidently thought it well to flee. Others followed, some
having cut heads or bleeding noses, dishevelled, out of breath, angry,
yet inclined to make game of themselves and others all the while.

"North! North! North!" they shouted, interlarding their words with many
an oath and epithet that need not be transcribed. "Ye coward
Southerners, ye only dare to attack when ye be ten to one. We will give
you back as good as ye gave! North! North!"

Plainly the pursuers were close behind the flying feet of the last
fugitive, when suddenly the rout was brought up short by the appearance
of a tall man in a long gown, with a weapon at his side, who came round
the corner at a quick pace, and confronted the rioters with stern
glances.

"How dare you disturb the peace again, you good-for-nothing brawlers?"
he cried in ringing accents. "Let me have such another scene within the
week, and I will have some of you to answer for it in the Chancellor's
Court. As if it were not enough that you must be fighting the burgesses,
fighting the citizens, fighting the Jews, but ye must be fighting one
another too, and that in broad daylight, when you should be at your
studies. To your Halls and lodgings, every man of you; and if I hear of
such another brawl as ye come from lecture, I will deal differently with
some of you."

The clerks, who had pulled up suddenly at sight of this stalwart
functionary, now began to slink away this way and that. Many of them
were mere lads, led on by the boyish instinct of fighting; a few were
evilly-disposed rogues, who were always to be found in the streets,
ready for any brawl; others, again, were scholars who had followed in
the wake of the crowd, with an idle interest in anything that savoured
of a fight rather than with any particular desire to take part in it.

These sorts of frays were of almost daily occurrence in old Oxford, and
only when they became too numerous or too severe was any particular
notice taken of them. The students for the most part lived and brawled,
studied and played, very much as it pleased them, and a fight, with many
or with few, was part of the day's work.

Jack espied Gilbert at the edge of the crowd, and made for him quickly.

"What is the matter? and who is he that stayed the fight?" he asked,
with eager curiosity; and Gilbert answered, laughing,--

"There is naught the matter; the fight was but a bit of play as the men
came out from lecture. We have such almost every day, and they seldom
come to more than a few cracked crowns. Yon man of the gown is the
Proctor of the South. There be two such in the University, one for the
North and one for the South; and I trow they have their hands full to
keep order sometimes! But come along, let us to dinner, and ye shall
tell your news."




CHAPTER V.

_THE NEW LIFE._


Before a week had passed away, Leofric and Jack felt as though they had
been months at Oxford, so many new experiences had been crowded into
that short space.

The more they saw of the strange life of the place, the more glad were
they of the chance which had given to them this little private shelter
of their own, instead of casting them amongst a number of strange clerks
in one of the poorer Halls or lodgings of the city.

For in the days of its infancy the University had enough to do in
protecting its own liberties from outside attack. It was therefore
unable to exercise individual authority over its heterogeneous members.
It provided instruction for them, it guarded their persons jealously
from assaults from without, and fought their battle right lustily when
jealous townsmen or papal emissaries sought to interfere with liberty or
life. But for the rest, the clerks and scholars lived in a state of
glorious and almost barbaric liberty, and all that Chancellor or
Proctors could hope to attempt was to restrain any serious outbreaks of
violence, either between clerks and citizens, or between the various
sections of the clerks themselves.

Open rioting in the streets was checked as far as possible; but an
immense amount of roistering and disorder could and did prevail without
let or hindrance, and there was no certainty from day to day that some
bloody collision might not occur in the city which might have a serious
termination.

Stories were told of clerks who had been set upon and killed by angry
citizens, of citizens who had been slain by clerks, of Masters even who
had met with injuries too often fatal in their effects, sometimes from
the hands of citizens, sometimes from those of scholars inflamed by
passion or drink.

There had been times when the King had had to interfere in order to calm
the strife between the contending parties. There had also been times
when the Masters and scholars had deserted Oxford by hundreds, if not
thousands, and had threatened to establish themselves in other
localities. This had been done when the citizens had put upon them some
marked indignity and affront, and had generally resulted in the
submission and humiliation of the town. For, as was pointed out to the
burgesses, the importance and prosperity of Oxford mainly depended upon
the presence there of this school of learning, and if they drove away
the scholars by their ill-judged enmity, they were signing the
death-warrant of their own city.

It was often to these quarrels and their adjudication that the
endowments (if such a word can be employed) of the University were
owed. The citizens would submit, and agree to pay so many marks a year
in token of their penitence, and these moneys were called "chests," and
formed a fund from which poor scholars might borrow without interest,
leaving a pledge behind; and private individuals would sometimes start a
similar chest, from which system gradually developed the scholarships
and exhibitions of our own days.

But the life of the infant University was a very strange one as compared
with the collegiate system which gradually grew out of it. Thirteen or
fourteen was a common age for a youth to commence life as a clerk, and
even at that tender age very little supervision was given him.

Originally the University copied to a certain extent the guilds of a
city corporation, and as a seven years' apprenticeship was imposed upon
lads entering trade guilds, so a seven years' course was expected of a
student between the date of his entry as a clerk and the time at which
he might take his M.A. degree. In the previous century there were
regular University guilds, and as the University was international, and
men from all countries came thither, these guilds naturally partook of a
national character, men of the same language consorting together, so
that different Halls became associated with the names of different
nationalities.

Even amongst the inhabitants of the British Isles there were
distinctions and race divisions. The Welsh formed a colony of their own,
whilst North and South were the two main factions in the place in the
thirteenth century, and these brawled terribly at times between
themselves.

Even when no actual brawling was going on, the streets of Oxford after
dusk were places where it was needful to walk warily. By day studies and
games occupied the clerks the best part of their time; but with the
setting of the sun a stop was put to these occupations. Candles were
dear, firing was often scanty, and the close, ill-smelling Halls, where
the rush-strewn floors were often not cleaned for weeks together, became
almost intolerable when shut up. Naturally enough, the clerks preferred
to sally forth into the streets, some to drink or sing songs at the
taverns, others to parade the streets, shouting and joking, and playing
any pranks that entered their heads. When it is remembered that almost
every person in those days carried arms of some sort, and that the most
trifling quarrel provoked blows, it may well be understood that the
evening hours in the city were anything but peaceful, and some sympathy
can be felt with the citizens in their enmity towards the gownsmen, even
though these were a source of profit to them.

Evening by evening Leofric and Jack heard hideous sounds of drunken
revelry proceeding from the various streets in the vicinity, and if ever
they had the curiosity to parade the town after dark, they were amazed
at the disorder and violence which seemed to prevail.

"I had thought," said Leofric, "that Oxford would be full of grave and
reverend doctors, whose presence would impose order and gravity upon
all. But methinks it is full of wantonness and revelling and fighting.
Right glad am I, good Jack, that we have our own little nest on the
walls. I should be loth indeed to belong to yonder herd."

Jack was not quite so particular, and a frolic in the streets, so long
as things did not go too far, was rather agreeable to him than
otherwise. Sometimes he would steal out, whilst Leofric was poring over
his illuminating work, and enjoy a stroll with some of the clerks of the
better sort with whom he had made acquaintance, and as he grew used to
the strange ways of the city, he found much to amuse and interest him.

Leofric had purchased, with the money given him by the Abbot of Osney,
some materials to enable him to work at the illumination of his vellum
leaves, and was doing some fine and beautiful illumination which was
certain to fetch him a good sum at some wealthy man's house. Jack looked
on in amaze at his skill, but sometimes felt the time hang a little
heavy. On such occasions he would sally forth to do the necessary
marketings, or to collect fuel, and so forth; and often Hugh le Barbier
would drop in to watch Leofric at his toil and exchange ideas with him
on many subjects.

Hugh was of a studious turn, and he had the same sort of refined
instinct as Leofric, and shrank from the tumult and rowdiness of the
streets. He had not yet succeeded in finding a Hall quite to his mind,
and was lodging at present at "Dagville's Inn" (now the Mitre), which
belonged in those days to one Philip Pady, a burgess, who had rented it
to an Italian of the name of Pedro Balzani, who had lived long in the
city, and made an excellent innkeeper, having great skill in culinary
matters, and a good English wife who understood the likings of her
countrymen.

"Thou must come and sup with me one of these days," said Hugh one day,
as he sat with Leofric after Jack had sauntered forth. "I have a
comfortable chamber enow, though somewhat chilly when the wind is
riotous; but I have found favour in the eyes of mine host, and I take my
meals with him and his family. This is not a grace he accords to all who
come, nor even to all who stay long in his house, as I am doing. And, in
truth, he does right to be cautious; for he has a pair of wonderfully
beauteous daughters, twin sisters, and so much alike that it was long
before I knew one from the other."

Leofric looked up with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

"Beautiful, thou sayest? I was wondering if perchance I could find in
this place a beautiful face; for see thou here, I would fain on this
square of vellum portray an angel with a roll in his hands, upon which I
shall inscribe, in fine penmanship, certain prayers. I have some small
skill in drawing faces. I used to amuse the monks of St. Michael by
taking likenesses of them, and they said I did it well. But it is not
easy to find a face for an angel, though there are some pretty lads here
and there walking the streets. I wonder if I could find an inspiration
in the face of your twin sisters."

"Thou shalt come and see," quoth Hugh eagerly; "methinks it would please
them well to be thus portrayed. For my part, I think that Linda's face
would be the better; it is ofttimes full of a sweet seriousness and
repose, whereas Lotta is all sparkle and fire; and it is by these two
expressions that I begin to know them the one from the other, though,
should Lotta be pensive and Linda merry, I am at fault again!"

"I should like to see them," said Leofric. "I have heard of such
things--sisters so alike that none may distinguish between them--but I
have never seen such. It must be something strange."

"Thou shalt come and see; thou and Jack shall sup with me to-morrow. I
have spoken to Balzani about you both before now. Thou hast a quick eye
and a keen understanding, and I would ask what thou dost think of Tito
Balzani, the son of mine host. For my part I like him not, and methinks
he has no love for me. He consorts with one Roger de Horn, one of the
biggest braggarts and bullies of the place. He calls himself a clerk,
but it is little of learning that will ever get into that pate of his.
He, too, comes to table with mine host and his family, and methinks he
is vexed and jealous because the same grace is accorded to me. He speaks
insolent words anent upstarts and fine-gentlemen fops; and it is plain
that he seeks a quarrel with me, or else to drive me to other quarters."

Leofric was interested in all that concerned his friend, for he had a
sincere liking for Hugh, who had been kind to him in a variety of ways.
He gladly promised to visit him on the morrow, and take supper with him,
being interested in the thought of seeing these Balzanis.

"I suspect there is some love-jealousy at the bottom of this fellow's
dislike for Hugh," remarked Jack, when he heard Leofric's account of the
matter; "there be some fellows who must always have a sweetheart, and
perchance this bully thinks that the fair ladies will think more of
Hugh's open face and gentle bearing than of his own. We will go and see
for ourselves; for I would be sorry that any hurt should come to good
Hugh. He is a very proper fellow; but in such a city as this any
evil-disposed person might seek a quarrel with his rival, and do him a
deadly mischief without fear of anything worse than the Chancellor's
prison. Benefit of clergy may be source of safety to some, but it can be
a source of peril too, when the vilest of the land claim it as a cloak
for their worst sins."

The new clerks were beginning to learn many lessons as to the working of
the prevailing system, and they heard many things from Brother Angelus,
whose lecture-room they sought whenever they could, and who seemed to
take a special interest in these two lads. Once they had accompanied him
in a round of visits amongst the poor in the parish of St. Ebbs, and had
longed to emulate his skill and tenderness with the sick. It seemed
strange to them to see one who was so learned in saintly lore, and who
was so revered in his own school by the pupils of St. Francis, humbling
himself here to perform the most menial office for the poorest person,
without a thought for his own dignity or position. But it was alike the
theory and the practice of the friars to humble themselves to tend their
brethren; nor did they think it shame to ask alms at the doors of the
rich, for they might possess nothing of their own, and must needs beg
sustenance for themselves and for those whom they desired to help.

Leofric and Jack had by this time settled what lectures to attend and
what masters to follow. They had been perplexed for a while at the
choice before them, and by the solicitations of their superiors for a
hearing in their particular schools. They had visited a considerable
number before finally deciding, and were now deeply interested in the
daily lectures they heard upon a variety of subjects. Jack declared he
had never had such a hard time in his life, and he wanted a good deal of
help from Leofric in taking in what he heard. But both lads had sharp
wits and a great thirst for information, and they soon attracted the
notice of their instructors by their regular attendance, and by the
attention they bestowed upon the lecture.

So far they had not made a great many acquaintances amongst their
fellow-clerks, the number of whom was quite confusing at the outset.
Some amongst them were too rough and uncouth to attract them, whilst
others, more gently born, were superior to them in station, and they
feared a rebuff should they attempt to make advances. Life was simpler
in its conditions in those days, and friendships easily grow up when the
young are thrown together; but pride of race is nowhere absent, and both
Leofric and Jack had a great dislike to putting themselves forward in
any way.

There was a great deal of talk in the city at that time, and indeed all
over the country, as to the condition of affairs betwixt the King and
the Barons. Leofric and Jack were only gradually beginning to take any
interest in political matters, being sufficiently engrossed just now in
their own affairs; but Hugh talked often to Leofric about the great Earl
of Leicester, who had married the King's sister, and who was now the
head and champion of the Barons' party. He spoke of him with the ardent
enthusiasm of youth, called him the greatest and noblest man of the day,
would tell long stories of his prowess in Gascony and other places, and
of the ill-treatment he had ofttimes received at the hands of the
capricious and unstable monarch.

"The King never knows his own mind two days together!" the young man had
scornfully declared, "and he makes promises only to break them. He is
the tool and dupe of the Pope, and is bleeding his country to death,
sending all its wealth across the seas for objects with which we have no
concern. And then he breaks every promise whereby he has attained these
moneys, and our charters and liberties are trampled underfoot, even when
he has most solemnly promised to observe and respect them."

Hugh was an ardent supporter of that party in the kingdom which began to
be called the Barons' party, and Leofric and Jack drank in his spirit
eagerly. It was, in fact, the prevailing one amongst the members of the
University of all grades. The friars, too, were far more in sympathy
with the champions of the liberties and rights of the people and the
constitution, than with the aggressions and tyrannies of a Pope-ridden
monarch. So that Oxford, although divided in some measure upon the
burning questions of the day, inclined on the whole very much in favour
of that party of which Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, was now the
acknowledged head.

When Hugh escorted his two friends through the streets to Dagville's
Inn, where they were to sup with him as arranged, he was considerably
excited by a rumour which had just reached the city, and which was
causing no small stir there.

It was said that Oxford had been chosen as the place where in a short
time, perhaps two months hence, a Parliament was to be assembled in
which the burning questions of the day were to be discussed, and some
settlement of a definite nature arrived at between the King and his
nobles. The very idea of this great assembly sent a thrill of excitement
through the place. The streets were crowded with knots of clerks and
citizens, for once all gathered amicably together, discussing the news
which had been brought from London, and wondering whether it were true.

Dagville's Inn presented a lively appearance. Its porch and bar were
crowded with guests, and a dark-faced man, who spoke with the accent of
a foreigner, was busy serving the guests, as was also a youth with a
tousle of frizzy hair and a pair of shifty black eyes, who bore a strong
resemblance to mine host, but looked a great deal more crafty and cruel.

Leofric observed his face as he passed in, and noted that he gave an
ugly scowl at sight of them. It seemed plain that he had no liking for
Hugh, although what was the cause of the grudge he bore him it was less
easy to decide.

Hugh pushed his way through the lower room, his guests following; and
after mounting to the upper floor, they found themselves in a pleasant
room, not unlike that in which they had seen the Seaton family assembled
on their first arrival at the city. Its window, which was large and
latticed, though the lattice stood wide open to the mild evening air,
looked upon the High Street; and upon the window seat lay a lute, and a
piece of fine embroidery work such as was seldom seen save in the
nunneries or in the houses of fine ladies.

A table in the centre of the room was set for supper, but the apartment
itself was empty, and Leofric took up the lute gently, and fingered it
with loving touches. But the next moment he put it hastily down, for the
door opened, and a pleasant-looking motherly woman came in bearing a
smoking dish, and she was followed by two maidens, each with a dish in
her hands.

Hugh stepped forward to relieve one daughter of her load, and Jack did
the same by the second. Leofric, who was more shy by nature, stood where
he was in the window, looking in a sort of amaze from one girl to the
other. Both were dressed exactly alike, in a semi-Italian fashion which
he thought most bewitching; but it was the beauty of the two faces, and
their extraordinary similarity, which confused and bewildered him. No
wonder Hugh had said it was hard to tell one sister from the other; he
marvelled that any should learn to know them apart. To his eyes the
faces seemed identical, the same rich colouring, the same dark
velvet-soft eyes, the same flashing smile and finely-pencilled brows.

Hugh made him known to the sisters, who were girls of about his own age,
albeit their southern blood made them appear older than their age. He
called one Lotta and one Linda, and asked Leofric if he thought they
would do as models for him.

The young artist blushed to the roots of his hair, and knew not what to
say; but one of the maidens laughed merrily, and looked archly into his
face.

"Methinks if he wants an angel-model, he had best take his own
portrait," she said, in clear musical tones; whilst the other sister
added in a voice of precisely the same character,--

"Or seek to get a glimpse of lovely Mistress Alys at the Castle.
Methinks she has the fairest face of any maid in the city."

Whilst the young people were talking together in the window, and drawing
out Leofric to tell them of his art, and even to show them what he could
do by means of a bit of charcoal upon a piece of wood, a tall, burly,
dark-browed young fellow lounged into the room, and looked across at the
group round Leofric with a scowl in his deep-set eyes.

Jack was the only one who noticed his entrance, and he knew the intruder
to be Roger de Horn, who had a certain notoriety in the place as being
one of its most turbulent spirits.

"Supper, supper, good folks," called the mistress from the head of the
table, where she had seated herself before another smoking dish which
she had been to fetch. "If the father and Tito are busy for the moment,
we must not let the supper spoil. Doubtless they will join us when they
smell the viands.--Come, young sir, and let us see if thou canst wield a
knife as well as a pen, for I believe not in your starveling clerks.
Good victuals make good scholars, as I always say."

The hostess was a cheerful soul, and her calling in life had given her
easy, pleasant manners that won her good-will from all. She looked
little enough like the mother of the crafty Tito, or even of these
beautiful girls. Tito, in truth, was not her son; for Balzani had been
married twice, and his first wife had been of his own nationality. Tito
was several years older than the twin sisters, and no very great
likeness existed between them. Yet the daughters looked far more Italian
than English, although they spoke their mother's tongue with perfect
fluency, and without any sort of accent. They were both very charming
girls. Leofric could not on that occasion decide in the least which was
the more charming, for he could not tell them apart. Sometimes he
thought he was beginning to know them, but again found himself
completely at fault. But he was delighted with the permission accorded
to him of drawing their portraits, and the girls' eagerness over this
matter amused and gratified him not a little.

Roger seemed in a very ill temper all the while, as Jack was not slow to
notice. He sat silent and sullen at the board, nor did it soothe him to
observe that nobody seemed to miss him or take note of his ill-humour.
All were occupied with Hugh and his guests, chattering and laughing
gaily. Nobody appeared to have a word or a look for him, unless it were
the hostess, who pressed him sometimes to partake of one or another of
the dishes on the table, but always returned to join the chatter of the
young folks, which plainly interested her much more than the morose
responses of Roger.

When Balzani and his son appeared, they were full of the news which was
exciting the place. The innkeeper was pleased with the thought of all
the fine company that this meeting would bring to the town. He did not
profess to know or to care very much about the rights of the case; he
was still too much the foreigner to enter keenly into English politics.
But the local excitement he thoroughly appreciated, and when he got a
chance he questioned Hugh closely about the great Earl of Leicester and
his household and retinue, wondering whether so great a man would
condescend to lodge in his house, and if so, what gain such a thing
would bring to him.

When Jack and Leofric took their leave, promising another visit soon,
Hugh walked with them part of the way, asking their opinion of his
quarters and his friends.

"I'd have a care if I were thee," said Jack, with one of his shrewd
glances; "for that braggart Roger de Horn is no friend of thine, and
methinks Tito and he are fast friends. In this city it behoves men to
walk warily if they have foes abroad. I would have a care if I were
thee."




CHAPTER VI.

_A "MAD" PARLIAMENT._


"'Twill be a mad Parliament, gentlemen, a mad Parliament," said one
reverend doctor, as the news was definitely made known in Oxford that
that place had been selected by King and Barons as a neutral spot where
the adjourned Parliament should meet.

Great excitement reigned throughout the city and University. Nothing was
talked of but the political situation, the weakness of the King, the
resolution of the Barons to enforce the terms of the Great Charter upon
the tyrannical monarch, and the possibility (only too well grounded)
that the Sovereign, advised by his foreign favourites, would seek to
call in aid from abroad, and overrun the fair realm of England with
foreign mercenaries.

"But hireling foreigners must be paid," remarked one citizen grimly, as
this danger was mooted, "and until the nation gets its rights and
liberties, no more money will his Majesty wring from it. The sinews of
war are in our pockets, and there they shall stay unless the King
chooses to hear reason."

"Ay, and more than that," cried Gilbert, hurrying up to join the eager
crowd; "I have had good news from my father in the south. He tells me
that the Barons have garrisoned the Cinque Ports, so that no foreigners
may land on our coasts. As the truce with France has just expired, they
have good reason for this step, without doing any disloyalty to his
Majesty; but all the world knows with what special object it has been
done at this moment. Methinks we shall be free from fear of foreign
invasion, and that we shall obtain our liberties without bloodshed."

"Heaven grant we may!" cried the older and graver amongst the
townsfolks, some of whom remembered, and others had heard from their
fathers, the tales of the terrible struggle in John's time, which had
led to the granting of the Great Charter. They wanted no repetition of
such scenes as those; albeit some of the younger and more ardent
spirits, and the lawless and violent ones, would not have been
displeased had some open collision occurred which should cause the whole
country to fly to arms.

Even as it was, great impetus had been given to the joustings and
practices of wars in the meadows around the city. Both clerks and
citizens went out afoot or on horseback during the long evenings of
summer, and often such a tumult arose, and such a din of arms, that one
might well suppose some real battle was going on rather than an
imitation of it.

June had come, and all the world was clothed in verdure. Oxford was
looking her best and brightest at this season. As the day for the
assembling of this Parliament drew near, the excitement became intense.
Lectures in some cases were suspended, and discipline of any kind became
enforced only with difficulty.

As usual, there were two parties in the city. The very fact that the
scholars sided almost to a man with the Barons' party disposed some of
the citizens to throw in their sympathies with the King. Henry was no
special favourite, but he was personally beloved by those who had at any
time had access to his presence. He was not vicious, and he was devout;
his defenders could always say many things in his favour. He was not a
monarch to inspire respect or personal enthusiasm; but then neither was
he one who roused against himself any great outbreak of popular rage.
Had he lived in less critical days, or been better advised, he might
have passed through life comfortably and easily, and have been regarded
as a good and well-meaning monarch.

"We must needs see some of these great sights!" cried Jack excitedly to
Leofric, after coming back from a prowl round the city one evening.
"They say that to-morrow the Barons will march into the city; and upon
the day following the King will arrive at Beaumont Palace. We must go
forth to see these brave sights. Marry, what a time it will be for
Oxford! Right glad am I to be here at such a season! Think of it--I
might have been following the plough behind my father's horses, knowing
naught of the great things that be doing in the world!"

A few minutes later and Hugh burst in, quivering with excitement.

"The great Earl of Leicester with his train comes to-morrow," he cried,
"and many others of the Barons as well. Some will lodge here, and some
there; but the great De Montfort and his sons will come to Dagville's
Inn, and for the nonce all who are there must make way. So I come to beg
a lodging with you, my friends; and if fortune favours us, I will seek
to get speech with my old playmates, Guy and Amalric, and will present
ye both to them."

"Are they the sons of the great Earl?" asked Leofric eagerly.

"Ay; and time was once when I went as a page with my father to
Kenilworth, and we played together, we boys. Guy and Amalric are the two
youngest sons. The elder pair have won knighthood for themselves beyond
the seas. But these be yet lads still, albeit, if report says true, very
proper and noble lads. Right well do I hope that they will accompany
their father on the morrow. Methinks they will not have forgotten me.
Amalric was very friendly in those past days, and we vowed to love each
other always."

There was little sleep for the trio in the turret that night. Jack and
Leofric made Hugh tell them everything he could remember of the De
Montfort family at Kenilworth, when he had been there as page.

They wanted to know, too, the names of the other Barons who would
support the Earl of Leicester; and although parties changed with
somewhat confusing rapidity, as private jealousies or conflicting
interests made the friend of to-day the enemy of to-morrow, yet Hugh
knew pretty well who were likely to range themselves upon the side of
the liberties of the nation, and could give bits of information to his
companions about the great nobles of the day.

The Earls of Gloucester, Hereford, and Norfolk were, he thought, certain
to support the Earl of Leicester, and also Hugh le Bigod and Hugh le
Despenser, whose names were pretty well known at that time. The King was
more likely to be backed by Bishops and Archbishops, especially such as
still held themselves subservient to the Pope. Then he was almost
certain to be attended by some of the De Lusignans, his half-brothers,
and by numbers of other foreign favourites, whose constant presence at
Court was such an offence to the nation.

"They eat up everything before them, like so many locusts!" cried Hugh
hotly. "So soon as any place becomes vacant, the King, instead of
promoting some honest English gentleman to it, who may have served him
faithfully for years, throws it to one of his foreign favourites, who
may have a dozen such offices already. They drain the life-blood from
the country, and we, its sons, are left to take what pickings we can
get!"

It was easy to understand how bitterly the English nobles and gentlemen
were beginning to resent this kind of thing; and when it was combined
with a constant infringement of their liberties, and an equally constant
imposition of new and illegal exactions, anger became exasperation, and
the sense of a coming crisis was in the very air.

The short night was soon over, and with the first of the sunlight the
three lads awoke from their light slumbers.

There was no lingering abed for any that day. Hardly had they returned
from their plunge in the pool, and arrayed themselves in their best
habits, before sounds in the streets warned them that all the city was
up and doing.

Hurrying forth, they saw that the citizens had begun to deck their
houses as if for a festival: flags were flying from windows, and bands
of clerks paraded up and down the streets, singing songs, cracking
jokes, and sometimes striving to make speeches in imitation of those
which would be made when the conference should have assembled.

Mummers were pouring into the town, as they always did on any holiday,
and at the street corners they were to be seen going through their rough
representations or practising some rude sort of jugglery. It was plain
that there would be no lectures that day. The clerks were far too
excited to attend, and the masters little less so.

But many hours must of necessity pass before the Barons would be likely
to arrive at the city gates. These hours had to be got rid of somehow,
and Leofric suggested that they should go and see if Brother Angelus
were lecturing in the school of the Friars, since perhaps the excitement
had not spread so much into the religious establishments as into the
Halls and lodging-houses.

Friar Angelus truly was there, and so were the pupils of his own school,
but very few outsiders came in that day; and the lecturer did not keep
his hearers very long, dismissing them with a smile, and cautioning
them not to get into any mischief or trouble in their excitement.

He looked pleased to see Leofric and Jack, and spoke to them as he
passed out. They asked him rather eagerly which side he took--that of
the King or that of the Barons. He answered, with one of his thoughtful
smiles, that these matters were not given to him to judge of--that he
meddled but little in the strife of nations; but if he had to judge of
any question, he sought always to discover the teachings of Holy
Scripture, and to judge according to the mind of Christ.

By this time messengers had come to report that the Earl of Leicester,
together with the Earl of Gloucester, had reached Abingdon, where they
had halted to dine, and that they might be expected to arrive at the
Grandpont by three o'clock in the afternoon.

All the city seemed in motion towards the South Gate, which led towards
the Grandpont (as Folly Bridge was then called), and Gilbert rushing up
joined himself to the other three, and urged them to come and see all
that was to be seen.

The narrow street was quite blocked with foot passengers--clerks,
citizens, masters and doctors all mingling together in one moving mass.
It was a good-natured crowd, and there was much laughing and jesting as
they had to squeeze through the gateway, and again across the bridge,
until in the meadow beyond they had breathing room, and could spread
themselves out more at ease. Here, dotted about in picturesque
groups, were knots of persons who had come from the surrounding
districts--farmers on their stout nags, with wife or daughter perched on
a pillion behind; and there, too, were groups of squires and gentlemen
from the neighbouring houses or castles, many of these having brought
their women folk to watch the procession pass.

One group attracted attention from the fine trappings of the horses, and
from the general air of importance it wore. There were two ladies,
several horsemen in fine garments, and one tall, commanding personage,
who was evidently an official of some sort. He was surrounded by several
soldiers, who observed an attitude of watchful attention; and Gilbert
said to his comrades in a quick whisper,--

"Yon is the Constable of the Castle. They say he is very favourable to
the cause of the Barons, though he calls himself the servant of the
King. He is a good man, and well beliked in Oxford, albeit he and the
Chancellor sometimes come to loggerheads anent the limits of their
jurisdiction; yet they be good friends for all that. There goes the
Chancellor to speak with him and join his party."

Leofric looked rather eagerly towards the little group around the
Constable, and truly enough there sat Mistress Alys upon her palfrey,
her golden hair hanging like a cloud about her face, her eyes gazing
round her full of curiosity. Suddenly she met the gaze bent upon her,
and started a little. Then a look of recognition flashed into her face.
She glanced at her father, but he was engrossed in conversation, and did
not see. Failing in getting his attention, she just raised her hand, and
waved it for a moment towards Leofric and his companion; then blushing
a little as if at her boldness, she drew back behind one of the horsemen
in the group.

Leofric bared his head and bowed low at the little lady's salute; but he
made no further attempt to attract attention, and the friends passed
quickly through the crowd lingering at the head of the bridge, and made
their way along the road towards Abingdon, where numbers of the citizens
were already straying, in hopes of catching sight of the foremost of the
Barons' followers.

Presently they came upon a group gathered beneath the shade of some
large oak trees, and heard themselves hailed in tones of welcome. This
group consisted of the Seaton family, and the beautiful twins, Lotta and
Linda. Pedro Balzani, not desiring that his daughters should remain in
the inn when it was like to be crowded from garret to basement by fine
gallants in the train of the Earl of Leicester, had asked of his
neighbours the Seatons houseroom for them at this season, Joanna Seaton
being the great friend of the twin sisters. The whole party had come
forth to picnic under the greenwood trees and watch the show go by. And
now, as was but natural, these four comrades, who always consorted more
or less together, were invited to share in the remains of the repast,
and to join the pleasant party.

Nothing loth, they all sat down, and having been too excited to provide
themselves with dinner, were glad enough of some of Dame Seaton's
excellent fare. By this time all the party were very well
acquainted--laughter and fun were the order of the day. By this time
Leofric had come to distinguish as a rule between the twin sisters,
although he frequently made a mistake which evoked amusement and banter.
Hugh never made any mistake now, and always gravitated towards Linda,
the gentler of the two girls. Leofric sometimes wondered whether or not
he was beginning to love the maiden. She was certainly very sweet and
winning, yet she was but the daughter of an innkeeper, and half a
foreigner to boot; whilst Hugh was a gentleman's son, and might hope one
day to win his spurs.

The sun overhead shone down hotly, though beneath the trees it was
pleasant enough. The afternoon was wearing on, and excitement had become
intense.

At last the long-waited-for sounds arose, telling of the approach of a
number of riders. Rushing helter-skelter along the dusty road came bands
of clerks and others, who had gone on towards Abingdon, and now came
pouring back towards the city with the cry on their lips,----

"They come! they come!"

All sprang to their feet. The youths helped the maidens to clamber into
good places of observation amid the branches of a gnarled old oak,
blasted by lightning, that stood hard by the road. Then they drew
themselves up bare-headed beneath, prepared to swell the shout of
welcome which arose as soon as the foremost horsemen hove in sight.
Leofric strained his eyes to gaze at the oncoming procession, for it was
such a sight as his eyes had never looked upon before.

Hugh stood close beside him, his eyes shining with excitement and
anticipation. The tramp of horse-hoofs and the ringing sound of armour
made itself heard through the still, clear air.

"Come they in arms?" whispered Gilbert with bated breath, for he was not
prepared for that. Yet, sure enough, as the first ranks of the horsemen
rode up, it was plainly to be seen that they were armed from top to
toe--a brave spectacle in truth, yet one that the by-standers had
scarcely expected to see.

Row after row, row after row of bravely-trapped horsemen passed by at a
gentle trot, and still Hugh made no sign. Then he suddenly grasped the
arms of those next to him, and exclaimed,----

"There he is! there he is! Is he not a right royal man?"

Leofric's gaze was instantly fastened upon the eagle-like face of a
warrior in a richly-chased coat of mail, with a plumed head-piece on his
head--a man who sat erect in his saddle, returning the greetings of the
by-standers with a grave dignity of demeanour--a man who looked born to
command and born to rule, and who, in spite of his own foreign blood,
was at this moment the champion of England's liberties, the enemy of
those hordes of foreign aliens who were preying upon the land to her
destruction.

Close behind him rode in pairs four young men, all of them bearing some
sort of likeness to their eagle-faced sire. The faces of the first two
did not specially attract Leofric, for there was too much haughtiness in
the bearing of the young men, albeit no trace of that passion was to be
seen in their great father. But the younger pair were far more
attractive, being bright-faced boys, who looked about them with eager
eyes, and flashed a quick smile at Hugh as they rode by.

"Those be my young lords, Guy and Amalric," cried Hugh with beaming
face, "and they have not forgotten me. Anon I will seek speech of them.
And see--see! yonder rides mine own father, amongst the retainers
bringing up the rear. Ah! I had scarce thought to see him here. Now,
perchance, we shall see something of the great scene when this
Parliament, which men call "mad", shall assemble itself. Methinks there
will be sound sense found amongst those who gather together to discuss
the welfare of the nation."

It was hopeless to try to keep up with the riders; the hot sun and
choking dust alike precluded such a thing. The party returned leisurely
to Oxford, to find the city half mad with excitement. Nor was there any
diminution of excitement possible; for on the morrow there would be a
yet grander sight, when the King himself should arrive, and when the
Barons should ride forth to meet and welcome him.

This was indeed a very fine spectacle, and Hugh took care that his
friends should share it with him. He had managed to borrow steeds from
some of his father's servants, who had no need to take part in this
ceremony, and upon these horses he mounted his friends and himself. They
posted themselves at a certain spot hard by Beaumont Palace, where they
were told they would obtain an excellent view of the meeting betwixt
King and Barons.

To-day Leofric and Jack were able to obtain a far nearer and better view
of the Earl of Leicester, and the more they studied his handsome face,
the more admiration did they feel for him. He seemed the soul and centre
of that noble assembly. The other Barons appeared to regard him as their
natural chieftain, and whenever he spoke they hung upon his words, and
appeared to give the utmost respect to them. Although he was habited
more plainly than any, he was like a king in their midst. His face was
lined by anxiety and care, but the fire in his eyes was unquenched and
unquenchable. He looked like one born to rule, and his expression seemed
to show that, on this occasion at least, he meant to exercise that
faculty to the uttermost.

A blare of trumpets suddenly announced the coming of the King, and a
thrill seemed to run through the assembled crowd. The Earl drew himself
erect in his saddle, and the other nobles fell into rank around him. The
trumpet notes drew nearer and nearer, and at last the cry was
raised,----

"The King! the King!"

In gorgeous array, surrounded by courtiers dressed in the extreme of
foppery, appeared the procession of the monarch. The nobles bared their
heads, as did also the crowd, and all faces were turned expectantly
towards the oncoming procession.

Everything that pomp and state could do to add dignity to the King's
Majesty was present here; and yet there was so little of true kingly
majesty in that weak, handsome face, and in the shifting expression of
the uncertain eyes, that Leofric, looking from one face to the other,
said in his heart,----

"Is it possible that that is the King and the other the subject? Surely
it should be just the other way about."

It did indeed so appear; for the Earl, whilst showing every mark of
respect to his sovereign, yet wore himself so lofty and kingly an aspect
that Henry seemed unwittingly to shrink before him, but he strove to
conceal this by taking a haughty and rebuking tone.

"How, now, my lord of Leicester! is it in arms that you come to meet
your King?"

"Sire," replied the Earl, speaking for himself and his companions, "we
are on our way to quell the troubles that have arisen in Wales, and
therefore come we armed, as indeed needs must be if we are to do there
your Majesty's behests. This business once over for which we are met
together, and we must to the West to serve your Highness there. Let us
hope for a speedy settlement of affairs here, for our presence is needed
urgently against the troublers of the peace of the realm."

As he spoke the Earl swept with his eagle eyes the ranks of swarthy
faces that surrounded the King, and a murmur went up from the crowd
which was sufficiently significant.

It was almost an open challenge of defiance, and Henry knew it as such.
This could be seen in the flush upon his face, and in the flash of his
eye. Yet he could not meet the calm gaze of the Earl, and he strove to
pass the matter off with a laugh.

"Thou wert always something too ready with thy tongue, Simon," he said;
"be careful thou art not some day too ready with thy sword likewise."

"My sword can never be too ready, an it be unsheathed in the service of
your Majesty's peace and honour, and for the safety and welfare of the
fair realm over which it has pleased God to set you," was the steady
response.

The King laughed, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Come and ride with me, and tell me of my sister, thy wife," he said, as
though willing to let other matters rest for the present. "Thou art as
great a tyrant as ever thou wast, Simon; but beshrew me if I can help
from liking thee when we meet face to face. Ride by my side and talk to
me. Let the people at least see that we bear each other no ill-will."

So King and subject rode side by side to the palace of Beaumont, and the
people made the welkin ring with their acclamations.

"Though whether they be shouting for thee or for me," remarked Henry,
with a short laugh, "perhaps it would be well not to inquire too
closely."




CHAPTER VII.

_THE CONSTABLE'S CHILDREN._


"Fair Mistress Alys, this is sooth a wondrous city, in the which strange
sights are to be seen. Fain would I myself belong to it, and make one of
those bands of scholars whom I see passing to and fro through the
streets. Fain would I learn more of the life here, and share it for a
while. I am aweary of the clash of arms and the strife of tongues. The
life of a scholar has more charms for me."

The fair-faced Alys looked up from the frame where was stretched a great
piece of tapestry work, upon which her nimble fingers were at work.
There was a smile in her eyes as she made reply,--

"And yet, from all I hear and see, there is plenty of strife of tongues
and clash of arms even within the walls of this city, and amongst the
clerks and scholars themselves. I have not dwelt long enough here to
know what it is all about; but methinks those who have the charge of the
city have hard work sometimes to keep the peace there."

"That is very true," spoke a second voice, not at all unlike the one
which had just ceased, although it belonged to a lad of seventeen
summers, who lay full length upon a wide settle, over which a great
bearskin rug had been first laid. The face of this youth was thin and
hollow, and his hands were white and wasted. But his hazel eyes were
liquid and full of brightness, and though the broad brow was often
furrowed by pain, the smile which lit up the thin, well-cut features was
frequent and full of brightness.

"Yes; Alys speaks no more than the truth," said the youth, as Amalric de
Montfort turned to look at him. "We have not been long in this place, as
thou dost know. Until our father had been settled here some time as
Constable of the Castle, he would not summon us to be with him. We
remained with our mother's kindred in the south, and have only been a
few short months within these walls. Yet we have learned many strange
things during this time, and truly do I think that the city of Oxford
can be one of the most turbulent spots upon the face of the earth. I
have heard my father and the Chancellor of the University taking counsel
together how the peace may be kept, and in sooth it seems no easy matter
to decide."

"Ah yes, where many hot-headed youths be pent up together in narrow
bounds, there must needs be strife of a kind," answered Amalric; "but
that, after all, is a brotherly sort of strife, far removed from this
other strife of which I begin to grow strangely weary. If ye twain could
know but the half of what my noble father has endured at the hands of
the King--how he has spent his substance and his own life-blood away
there in Gascony, all to establish the King's royal authority there; and
how for all his faithful service he has received naught but hard words
and humiliations which would have turned many another into a bitter foe!
The tyranny and caprice of the weak King (uncle though he be of mine, I
will speak the truth of him) has been heartbreaking. It has aged my lady
mother, and embittered my father's life. And now, when he is forced to
stand forth as the champion of the nation, to hold the King to his
promises, there will be nothing before him but one long, strenuous
fight. Oh, I begin to weary of it all! If I could help him, I would be
ever at his side; but I can do nothing, and my heart grows sick within
me. Would that he would leave me behind in this city of learning, that I
might join the ranks of scholars, and gain, perchance, by my pen what I
scarce think I shall ever do by my sword! Methinks I was not born for
such strenuous days as these."

"Would that I might be in the very thickest of the strife!" cried the
lad, Edmund de Kynaston, his eyes dilating with a quick flash. "Methinks
were I as others are, I would ever seek out the post of greatest peril,
and stand in the foremost of the fight! Yet here am I, a useless log,
scarce able to put one foot before the other. Such is the caprice of
Dame Fortune!"

Alys rose from her frame, and crossed the room with light steps; she
bent over her brother and gently smoothed away the hair from his brow.

"But thou art happy here with me, my brother?" she questioned
pleadingly; "and when our father has time to see to the matter, we will
study together, and grow learned and wise, even if we cannot go forth
into the great world of battles without."

Edmund's smile was bright and eager as he imprisoned his sister's
fingers in his own.

"Verily, we will do great things together in one fashion or another,
sweet sister. I am always happy with thee at my side; yet I would that I
could serve and tend thee, instead of receiving all the service at thy
hands."

"I love to tend thee, brother mine," whispered Alys, as she bent over
him and kissed his brow, and then tripped lightly back to her frame; for
idleness was not permitted to the daughter of the Constable, and her
mother required a daily portion of work from those skilful fingers.

This conversation took place in a pleasant upper chamber belonging to
one of the many solid buildings enclosed within the walls of what was
known as the Castle of Oxford.

There were several buildings within these circling walls--the College
and Chapel of St. George, the Constable's quarters, and certain strong
towers that were often used as prisons for unruly clerks and scholars.
The Chancellor himself, although exercising a wide jurisdiction over the
liberties of the members of the University, had no place of durance in
which to place offenders, so that they were most often brought into the
Castle and lodged there.

Sir Humphrey de Kynaston had not occupied the position of Constable very
long, and so far he and the Chancellor had been excellent friends. They
were both anxious to maintain the peace of the city, and were agreed to
act in concert, instead of in rivalry, as had sometimes been the case
between former Governors of Castle and University.

Sir Humphrey had only two children, a boy and a girl. Edmund had always
been famed for his daring spirit and sunny temperament, and during his
boyhood had been the pride and joy of his father's heart. Two years ago,
however, he had received what appeared at the time to be a fatal injury
during a boar-hunt in the New Forest, where he was staying with his
mother's kinsfolks. The boar had turned to bay, and when some daring
huntsman, together with Edmund's uncle, approached to try to give the
final blow, the maddened creature sprang at them with such fury that
both fell before him, and all thought their lives must pay the forfeit.
But Edmund had seized a strong spear, and had made so sudden and fierce
a rush that the beast was borne back for a moment, giving the two time
to gain their feet once again. When they turned to slay their quarry,
however, they found that he had inflicted a terrible wound upon Edmund
with his great tusks. The boy was carried home in what was thought to be
a dying state, and although his fine constitution had enabled him to
pull through the long and dangerous illness, he had remained permanently
crippled, unable to do more than trail himself painfully from room to
room, or occasionally in warm weather to take a little very gentle
exercise on the back of a quiet and well-trained horse, which would be
content to pace sedately without prancing or curvetting.

Since that day it had been the chiefest happiness of Alys's life to wait
upon her brother, soothe his hours of suffering, which were many, and
share with him every simple joy and interest in life. Brother and sister
had both been greatly pleased to join their father at the Castle here,
and were ready to take a keen interest in all that went on at this seat
of learning.

Edmund had been fired with the desire to excel now in learning as he had
once excelled in feats of skill and strength. Their father had promised
to find for them a tutor with whom they might study; and perhaps some
youthful clerk to read to them out of such books as were then
obtainable, that they might progress the faster in their studies.

But the present excitement occasioned by the Parliament assembled in the
city had for the moment driven everything else out of the minds of those
dwelling there, and Sir Humphrey had his hands and mind and house alike
full.

The Parliament was sitting in the vacated quarters of the Black Friars
in the Jewry. The largest of their buildings there had been hastily
fitted up as a Council chamber; and the King and Barons met in daily
conclave to discuss the situation, and agree upon some definite plan for
the future.

The great De Montfort, who had been accustomed to rough it under all
sorts of climates and in all sorts of conditions, would have been
content to take up his own quarters at the inn in the town, had not Sir
Humphrey insisted that he and his sons should be his guests at the
Castle, leaving only the retinue at Dagville's Inn.

Thus it came about that, whilst the Earl and his two elder sons went
daily to the meeting-place in the Jewry, the younger sons, Guy and
Amalric, were left pretty much to their own devices, and spent their
time for the most part either in wandering about the town and learning
what they could as to the life there, or with the fair Alys and her
brother in this pleasant, airy chamber.

The room was itself very attractive, for it was adorned with tapestry
hangings which Alys's skilful fingers had wrought, and upon the stone
floor lay the dressed skins of many a wild creature of the woods which
Edmund had slain ere he had been laid low. Several stuffed birds and
small beasts were to be seen set upon the brackets which Edmund carved
in his hours of ease; and a tame falcon upon a perch occupied a little
recess, and when released from his chain would fly about the room or
perch affectionately on the hand of the master he loved. A great
wolf-hound also was generally to be found lying at full length beside
his master's couch. He had been Edmund's most faithful follower almost
from boyhood, and was now growing old and a little infirm. Therefore his
master's ways were little trouble to him, and save when he paced
backwards and forwards in the courtyard with his mistress, he seldom
cared to move from beside Edmund's couch.

Both Guy and Amalric de Montfort had grown fond of this upper chamber
and its inhabitants, and came and went almost at will. Edmund had been
keenly interested in all that these lads could tell him of their
father's campaigns, and of the battle for constitutional liberty which
he was so strenuously fighting now. Edmund knew that his own father was
strongly in sympathy with the action that the Barons were now taking,
and he listened eagerly to any items of information which he could pick
up. But whilst the Parliament was sitting, little was said as to the
course the deliberations were taking. There were whispers of stormy
scenes, and of outbreaks of fierce and rather impotent anger on the part
of the King; but for the most part a discreet silence was observed as to
the probable result of the deliberations, though from the King's
increasing irritability and fits of gloom it was surmised that he was
not best pleased at the course things were taking.

The talk between the De Kynastons and Amalric de Montfort on this
particular day was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Guy, who came
in eagerly and joyously.

"I have a plan!" he cried. "I was wandering down hard by the Grandpont,
when I saw a man in a right comely wherry, and he was pleased to hire it
to me for a few pence. He says that it will carry a party well, and that
if we lift it over the fall by Iffley Church, we can navigate a great
stretch of the river, or if we better like we can go up against the
current. Methought thou mightest well go with us, Edmund, for thou canst
ride down to the river-bank, and then the boat will carry thee bravely,
and we can take with us that bear's skin and make a couch for thee along
the bottom."

Alys clapped her hands in delight at the thought. Somehow it had never
occurred to them that the river might open up a new source of amusement
for the invalid.

Quickly was the matter settled. Dame Kynaston, though rather a martinet
in her household, as a managing housewife in those days had some need to
be, was a loving mother also, and was only too glad to forward any plan
whereby Edmund might benefit in health or spirits. Very soon the little
party was on its way to the wherry lying by the bridge, eagerly planning
the day's pleasuring, and finally settling that the navigation of the
Cherwell would afford the most amusement and novelty.

"What is yon tower hard by the bridge?" asked Amalric of Alys, by whose
side he was walking, a little in advance of the other pair.

"They call it Friar Bacon's study," answered Alys. "You may have heard
of Friar Bacon. They say he was a great and a good man, and he joined
himself to the Minorite Friars. But he grew too learned in what men call
the black arts--in astrology and astronomy; and he built himself yon
tower, that he might the better study the stars. So men got frightened
at him and his learning, and he was banished the city and the realm. I
have heard that he went to Paris, but I know not if that be true. They
say that if a greater or more learned man should ever pass beneath the
tower, its walls will crumble away, and it will fall to the ground. But
it has not fallen yet!"

"I have heard of Friar Bacon and his learning in very truth," answered
Amalric. "I call it shame that such a man should be banished the realm.
I believe not that any learning hurts the soul of man, so it be gotten
in the fear of God and the love of man."

Just at that moment a youth in the dress of a clerk turned a corner, and
came face to face with Alys and her companion.

"Hugh!" cried Amalric joyfully. "If I have not been looking for another
sight of thy face ever since we first entered the city, and I caught
sight of thee in the crowd! Now this is well met, for we are bent on a
days pleasuring on the water, and I am very sure that fair Mistress Alys
will give me leave to ask thee to join our company."

Alys bent her head with ready assent. She was interested in all clerks;
and the pleasant, open face of Hugh was attractive, besides the
guarantee of his being known to Amalric. Guy also gave him a friendly
greeting when the palfrey was led down to the waters edge, and before
long the whole party had embarked, and were rowing gently down the
stream to the point where the Cherwell made its junction with the Isis.

Hugh was called upon to tell his experiences as a scholar in the city,
and was nothing loth to do so. Amalric listened with all his ears, and
Edmund likewise. The youngest son of the warlike Earl of Leicester had
more of the scholar than the soldier in his composition, and was already
deeply bitten by the idea of remaining in Oxford and becoming a scholar
there. It was not likely that his father would oppose the wish if
strongly urged, and Amalric thus lost no opportunity of obtaining
information as to the life there.

Edmund lay along the bottom of the boat, delighted with the easy motion,
with the tree-crowned banks between which they were gliding, and the
beauty of all they saw in wood and meadow. The waterway was so narrow in
places that Alys could hardly believe they could force their way through
it at all; but this they always managed to do, and pushed on and on
until the sound of falling water told them that they would find an
obstruction to further progress.

"Never mind," cried Hugh; "it is but the fall. We must disembark and
carry the boat a few yards, and launch it afresh on the upper stream.
There we shall have a wider highway and more water. Ha! and here, as
happy chance wills it, are two good friends who will lend us a hand."

They had come in sight of the fall now, and also of a little canoe drawn
up near to the bank, in which a pair of lads were seated, one diligently
fishing in the pool, the other poring over a small volume which he held
in his hands; and so intent did this latter appear over his task, that
it was not until hailed in a loud voice by Hugh that he lifted his face.

When he did so, however, Alys gave a little cry, and bending over
Edmund, she said eagerly,--

"Brother, yonder is the clerk who saved me when the palfrey went nigh to
hurting me that day in the spring-tide. I am sure it is he; and it was
he I saw in the meadows the day when the Barons made their entry into
the city. Prithee may I speak to him? he seems to be known to Master
Hugh."

"I will speak him first," answered Edmund; and then with a good deal of
confusion of tongues the boat was drawn ashore, and all the party
disembarked--Alys giving her shoulder to her brother to lean upon whilst
the wherry was carried to the upper waters close above the fall.

"May I not help you, sir?" asked Leofric, coming up with a shy smile in
his eyes. The other four youths--for Jack had taken his part there--were
carrying the boat, and Leofric had been sent back to help Edmund up the
narrow path. "I am very strong, and the way is not long. Lean upon me,
and I will take you there gently."

"Thanks, good lad," answered Edmund, availing himself of the strong arm
extended to him. "I was wanting a word with thee, for my sister here
tells me that thou didst do her a good turn one day some while back,
when her horse took fright, and might have thrown her from its back."

Leofric blushed and disclaimed, declaring that Jack had done more than
himself; but Alys was of another opinion, and both brother and sister
fell into conversation with their new acquaintance, whose face, as
usual, won him favour at once.

"Thou wert reading when we came up," said Edmund; "art thou a scholar of
this place?"

Leofric told of himself, who and what he was, and admitted that he was
able to read Latin fairly well and understand it too, and that Brother
Angelus had given him several books to study, to help him to a greater
proficiency.

"These are the 'Sentences' they think so much of in the schools," said
Leofric, drawing the little volume from his pouch; "but Brother Angelus
prefers to go straight to the Scriptures themselves for learning, and
loves not the Sentences very greatly. But it is well for a clerk to be
versed in them. I have begun to study the philosophy of Aristotle too,
for all men talk much of him now, though some say that his learning is
dangerous to the soul. How-beit all men are eager to learn it."

"And where dost thou dwell?" asked Edmund eagerly; "and if thou be poor,
as thou sayest, how dost thou live?"

"Our wants are but few, and we live in a little turret on the walls,
where we have made a chamber for ourselves, no man forbidding us. My
comrade, Jack Dugdale, fishes, and snares rabbits in the woods; and I
gain small sums of money by painting on vellum, which I learned from the
good monks of St. Michael. We have enough for our needs, and can pay our
fees to the masters we seek after. Your father, sir, gave us money that
day of which you spoke. It was very welcome to us then, for we had but
come into the city, and scarce knew then how we should live."

By this time the boat was launched again, and the whole party assisted
Edmund to regain his former position along the bottom. Guy de Montfort
had taken an immense fancy to the canoe he had seen, and nothing would
serve him but that Jack should bring it up and give him a lesson in the
management of the craft. When he heard how the two lads had travelled
in it from a region not so very far from his own home of Kenilworth, he
was very much astonished; and getting Leofric to take his place in the
boat, he and Jack set off together up the stream, and were soon lost to
sight of the others.

This left Amalric, Hugh, and Leofric to navigate the larger boat, and to
talk together of those matters which interested them and Edmund so much.
It was natural that Amalric and Hugh should consort together, having
been friends and comrades in old days. This left Leofric free to answer
the many eager questions put to him by Edmund, whilst Alys sat by with
eager face and shining eyes, not losing a word of the conversation, and
sometimes taking a share in it herself.

"I can get books," said Edmund, "but they be nearly all in Latin. I can
neither read them easily nor understand what I read. I want to find
somebody who will come and read with me; for soon my eyes grow weary,
and my back aches if I try to hold up the volume myself, and I am
wellnigh ashamed to ask my father for a tutor, when perchance I might so
soon get aweary of his teachings. What I want rather, to begin with, is
a tutor for perhaps a few hours in the week, and for the rest a youth
like myself, himself a clerk, but with more learning than I, who would
come and read to me and with me till I could get the mastery myself over
the Latin tongue."

Leofric's eyes were bright with interest. He was too modest to speak the
words that trembled on his tongue; but the thought of having access to
books was strangely tempting, and there was something about Edmund and
Alys which attracted him greatly. The gentle refinement of their manners
and speech was in such pleasing contrast to the _brusquerie_ of the bulk
of his associates. When Alys said timidly,--

"Would Leofric Wyvill come to us if our father approved?" his face
burned with gratification and joy at being thus singled out; and Edmund
looked at him, saying,--

"I had scarce liked to ask, in case thou mightest have other work more
important; but I trow my father would approve, and would pay thee for
thy time and labour."

"O sir, to have books to read would be payment enough!" cried Leofric
eagerly. "I have longed to see more, but there be all too few in the
city for the needs of scholars and clerks; and but for the kindness of
Brother Angelus, I should never have aught to study save what I can
write down of the things we hear. I am but a learner myself; but if I
can help you, it will make me glad and proud to do so. I could at least
strive to remember all I hear, and repeat it to you. That is what I have
to do for Jack, who is not used to learning. He forgets all too soon,
and then we go over each lecture together, and I write upon the walls
such things as we most desire to remember, and there they are to remind
us if we want information another day."

Before the boat and its occupants made their way back to the town,
Amalric de Montfort had made up his mind to ask of his father grace to
remain behind and enter himself as a clerk in some Hall at Oxford;
whilst Edmund had fully resolved to beg his parents to engage Leofric
Wyvill to come to him several times in the week, to read with him, and
instruct him in brother-like fashion in those things which he was
learning for himself.




CHAPTER VIII.

_STORMY SCENES._


"Have a care how thou dost answer me, Mistress; I am not one who brooks
trifling!"

"I have never trifled with thee, Roger de Horn," answered the maiden
addressed, speaking firmly though gently. "Methinks thou dost forget
thyself in speaking such words to me to-day."

The dark face of Roger was deeply flushed. He looked as though he had
been drinking--as indeed was probably the case; at any rate he was very
angry, and his words came hissing from between his teeth in a fashion
not pleasant to hear.

"Not trifled with me, quotha? Canst thou look me in the face and say
that?--whilst the love-token that thou didst give me lies now upon my
heart!"

The face of Linda Balzani flushed deeply, partly with anger, partly with
maiden modesty. She drew herself away with a gesture full of simple
dignity.

"I have given thee no token," she said. "If thou hast received aught, it
must be from the hands of my sister. I know nothing of any token."

"What!" cried the young man, the flush mounting even to his brow, "wilt
thou deny the kiss that thou didst bestow upon me out in the greenwood
on Midsummer Eve, and the token thou didst give me as proof of thy
love?"

Linda drew away yet a little farther, and glanced round the room as
though seeking some way of exit. The excitement in Rogers manner was
unpleasant, and the claim he was making upon her was revolting. She had
always disliked this braggart, even though treating him with civility as
her brother's friend. Of late she had come to dislike him more and more,
and to shrink from his approach as one shrinks from the proximity of
some noisome reptile. She had fancied that her sister had of late been
seeking the society of Roger with pleasure; which thing rather perplexed
her, because in private Lotta never masked her dislike and contempt for
the bully and swaggerer, and of late had been more severe in her
strictures than ever.

The very thought of what had taken place under the greenwood trees upon
Midsummer Eve brought a flush to Linda's brow and a throb to her heart.
Was it not then and there that Hugh le Barbier had breathed into her
ears some words so full of music that the echo of them had never left
them since? She had scarce dared to think what those words might imply.
She was content to dream rather than to think, and she had lived in
dreamland almost ever since. To be spoken to thus was unendurable, and
the spirit of the maiden was roused.

"Methinks, sir, that thou hast been drinking, and hast overheated thy
blood," she said, rising as if to leave the room. "I spoke scarce three
words to thee upon that Midsummer Eve. I have done nothing and said
nothing to warrant the claim thou dost make. Prithee let me go; I have
had enough of this."

But Roger planted himself before the door, his sombre eyes glowing with
passion.

"Beshrew me if thou be not a false and fickle jade! But I will brook
none such answer from thee. See here--behold the token! Wilt thou dare
to look upon it and tell me it was never thine?"

Linda looked, and started slightly. It was indeed a little trinket that
had belonged to her for years. As a child she used to carry it as a
charm about her neck; but latterly she had ceased to do this. She had
not even missed it from the box where she kept it together with a few
more little keepsakes and girlish treasures. How it had come into the
possession of Roger she could not imagine. He saw her start, and his
eyes gleamed.

"So!--thou dost not dare to deny the witness of thine eyes!"

"The heart was once mine," answered Linda quietly, "but I have not seen
it for many weeks. I never gave it thee. It must have fallen into the
hands of another, and so have come to thine. Let me pass, sir; we have
had something too much of this already."

"What!" he cried furiously, "thou dost own to the trinket, but dost deny
the gift? Thinkest thou that I will endure to be flouted thus?"

"I flout thee not, sir; I do but speak sooth. I gave thee no trinket--I
gave thee no kiss. I have never bestowed upon thee aught save that meed
of friendship which my brother's friend has a right to look for."

He grasped her slim wrist in his strong hand. He brought his swarthy
face and flashing eyes close to her shrinking face.

"Thou didst give me much more than that till _he_ came amongst us--the
upstart, the fine gentleman, the fop with the smooth speech and dainty
dress! Thinkest thou I have not seen it all--how that thou dost seek to
play us one against the other? But thou shalt never make a tool of me; I
will have all or nothing! And I will wring the neck of any man who shall
dare come betwixt me and my love!"

The last words were hissed rather than spoken, and so cruel and fierce
was the aspect of the speaker that Linda tore herself suddenly away and
uttered a shriek of fear.

The next moment the door was quickly opened from without, and Joanna
Seaton appeared, with Lotta a little behind her, the latter wearing
rather a strange look upon her handsome, haughty face, whilst her gaze
glanced rapidly from one to the other of the occupants of the room.

"Is aught amiss?" asked Joanna quickly; "methought that I heard a call."

Roger turned upon his heel with one sinister glance over his shoulder,
and made as if to depart.

"I will finish what I have to say another day," he observed, "when thou
art in a better frame for listening, fair Mistress Linda, and when thou
hast something refreshed thy memory."

"What does he mean?" asked Joanna, as Roger clanked down the stairs and
Linda sank trembling upon a couch.

"He is a bad man--I fear and I hate him!" she cried in panting
breaths.--"Lotta, what hast thou done that he should say such things to
me? It must have been thy doing! He has the agate heart that once I
wore. None can have given him that but thou. And thou must have given
him other tender tokens too, for he speaks of things of which I know
naught. Sister, thou doest not well to show treachery to thine own flesh
and blood!"

Lotta tossed her handsome head, and a flush crept into her dusky cheek.
Of late the likeness between the sisters had grown somewhat less. A
softness and subtile charm had crept over Linda, whilst Lotta, though
handsome as ever, had seemed to grow harder and more defiant in her
proud beauty. Mistakes between the pair were of less frequent
occurrence, and although it would be easy for Lotta to personate her
sister of set purpose, the difference between them was becoming more
clearly marked day by day.

"What now, Linda?" quoth the other; "thou art always fancying some new
thing. I have scant patience with thy whims. What do I know of thy
trinkets, or of thy lovers? Thou art like a skilful bowman, who has a
second string to his bow ready to hand. But when thou dost find that
such a game has its perils, and that thou art playing with edge tools,
prithee do not seek to drag me in to help thee out of the slough. It is
a paltry trick, and unworthy of thy name."

"But Lotta--"

"Peace, child! I will hear no more. I am sick to death of thee and thy
lovers! Let me alone. Manage thine own affairs as thou wilt, but no word
shalt thou have from me. Go, and do as thou dost choose. Play them one
against the other, and see what comes of it. I will have nothing to do
with the matter; it is no concern of mine."

And Lotta swept out of the room with her whirlwind air of displeasure,
whilst Linda looked in perplexity at Joanna, and asked piteously,--

"Why is she so changed to me?"

"I fear me it is jealousy," answered Joanna, who had seen a great deal
during the weeks that the twins had been with them. Joanna had been
friendly with both from childhood, but had always liked Linda best. Now
she began to find that she loved Linda and rather disliked and feared
Lotta. There was something wild and untamed in her nature, and her
conduct towards her sister often provoked the indignation of the
onlooker.

"Jealousy!" repeated Linda, with rising colour.

"Ay, jealousy of what she sees betwixt thee and Hugh le Barbier,"
answered Joanna. "Hast thou not seen that Lotta has gone nigh to lose
her heart to yon courtly youth? I have observed it these many weeks, and
once I did think that he might return her regard; but it seems plain
now that his fancy has been elsewhere fixed, and poor Lotta has to bear
the pain of seeing it too."

Linda's cheeks were scarlet; she faltered as she spoke.

"Methought Lotta was pleased by the notice of Roger. I had thought that
her fancy went that way."

"Perchance it did--till Hugh appeared. But there can be no comparison
betwixt the two, and Lotta has ambition. She would fain link her lot in
life with one who could raise her higher in the world. And Hugh has
prospects of becoming, if not a knight at least an esquire to some noble
lord, in whose service he may rise high. It may be ambition rather than
love; but be it what it may, it is bitter to her to see herself passed
by for another. I think perhaps it is the more bitter because that other
is her sister, and so like to her in outward show that she cannot
understand why she holds not an equal place in his heart."

Linda's face was all aglow. It could not but be sweet to feel that
others had read the secret of Hugh's attachment to herself; but, again,
it pained her that her sister should regard her as a rival, and still
more that she should stoop to subterfuge, and seek to embroil her with
so dangerous a man as Roger de Horn.

"What can it profit her to behave thus?" she asked of Joanna, when she
had told the whole story; "why should she seek to anger him thus against
me? It is cruel to me, and also to him, if indeed a creature so full of
ferocity has any room in his heart for the gentle passion of love."

"Love is not always a gentle passion with natures such as his," answered
Joanna shrewdly; "and methinks I see what Lotta seeks to accomplish.
She knows that thou hast a timid nature as compared with her own; and
she thinks, possibly, that Roger will terrify thee into compliance with
his wishes, or that doubt and distrust may be awakened in the heart of
Hugh by what he hears and sees; in which case, perchance, he might turn
to her for comfort. Such are the unworthy wiles of a jealous nature. But
it is playing a dangerous game to trifle with a creature so untamed and
savage as Roger. There is no knowing to what excesses his anger may lead
him."

Linda shuddered slightly at the memory of the past scene.

"Pray Heaven he hurt not Hugh!" she murmured. "He said he would wring
the neck of any man that dared to come betwixt him and his purpose!"

"That is bad," said Joanna, looking grave. "I will speak to my brother
and also to Gilbert Barbeck, and tell them to give an eye to Hugh should
any riot arise in the city, as is like."

"Why is it like?" asked Linda anxiously.

"Marry, because of all the excitements in the city during the sitting of
this 'Mad Parliament,' as the King's friends have dubbed it. It has been
hard work to keep down rioting all these weeks; and men say they are
certain there will be some great collision ere long--we are never safe
from such in this place, as thou dost know. The marvel is that none such
took place whilst the Parliament was sitting. Had it not been for the
presence within the walls of so many armed men under discipline, I
verily believe it would have done so."

There was much truth in the words of this citizen maiden. Great had been
the excitement ruling in Oxford during the days of the sitting of the
Great Council or Parliament, and great was the joy and triumph of the
supporters of De Montfort and the Barons at the result thereof.

This is not the place in which to give a history of those Provisions of
Oxford of which so much was heard during the following years of Henry's
reign. Suffice it to say that by those provisions the Barons obtained
for themselves all that they desired, and for the time being the King
was little more than a puppet in their hands. They had no desire to make
new laws--that had never been a part of their purpose; what they aimed
at was to rid themselves of illegal exaction, of feudal service, to
obtain justice for themselves and others, and to rid the country of the
multitudes of foreign favourites who were eating up the substance of the
land, whilst its own sons had perforce to stand by empty-handed.
"England for the English" was in effect their cry; and their position
having been granted, steps were immediately taken to ensure the carrying
out of the measure agreed upon.

Those who desire information will find in every history book how this
was done, and will read about the twenty-four nobles and men of high
estate chosen in equal numbers by King and Barons--the Council of
Fifteen, the Twelve Commissioners of Parliament, and the Twenty-four
Commissioners of the Aid.

All this belongs to the region of history rather than to that of
fiction; but the result of this Parliament was that the King's power and
that of his foreign favourites was, for the time being, broken, and a
wave of enthusiasm and delight swept over the land, causing an outbreak
of excitement and triumph which was quite enough to give anxiety to the
authorities in such a turbulent city as that of Oxford.

The great Earl of Leicester was for the moment the idol of the
University. Whenever he appeared abroad he was hailed with shouts and
cheers. His strong personality and the fascination of his manner won
upon the clerks and scholars, till they would have been ready to lay
down their lives in his service. He received the adulation of the crowd
with a kindly dignity that won all hearts, and when it was found that he
was about to leave one of his sons behind him to study the Arts in
Oxford, public delight knew no bounds, and Amalric was almost as much
lauded and praised as his great father.

But, of course, there was never unanimity in this turbulent body of
undisciplined youths. The very fact that the presence of De Montfort
aroused in the breasts of many such unbounded enthusiasm, tended, as if
from pure contrariety, to inflame others against him--to throw them into
the arms of the party who sided with the King, and called De Montfort
and his friends sacrilegious usurpers of the power and authority which
had been vested by God in His anointed servant.

The monks were for the most part ardent supporters of the monarchy,
whilst the friars unhesitatingly declared that the kingly power could
be abused, and that, when this was the case, God Himself raised up men
of right and might to turn the King's heart from his errors, and to be
champions of truth and freedom. Scripture precedents could, of course,
be quoted on both sides, and controversy often raged fiercely. In an age
and in a place where disputation and argument was as the elixir of life,
and where a man's fitness for promotion in the University depended much
on his oratorical powers and his ability to hold his own in some wordy
warfare, it was likely enough that such burning questions as these
should be discussed by high and low alike, with every weapon from the
armoury of logic and rhetoric.

Although by this time the Parliament had broken up, the Barons had taken
themselves away, whilst the King had retired for a short time to
Woodstock, and had then left that part of the country, controversy and
excitement still ran high. It seemed as if some sort of explosion must
take place ere the atmosphere was cleared, and the authorities were very
watchful to try to put down with a strong hand anything like street
rioting or disturbance.

But the spirit of the time was too strong for them. The students
themselves seemed weary of good behaviour. How it originated none
exactly knew, but soon there was no hiding the fact that a great
jousting was to take place shortly in the meadow of Beaumont, where the
various nationalities should try their prowess in feats of skill and
strength, and hold high revelling there such as was due to them upon the
feast of Holy Trinity; only that the presence of the King and Barons in
Oxford at that date had caused an adjournment of the holiday.

At that time the holidays of the Church were nearly all that students
could claim. There was no regular break in the lectures as now, and men
remained for years at Oxford without thinking of visiting their homes.
But they regarded these Church holidays somewhat jealously, and they,
together with the Fair of St. Frideswyde, formed the chief interludes in
the monotony of University life.

"Tito," said Roger de Horn, taking his friend by the arm and leading him
down a dark alley where none might see or hear them, "I have discovered
all too much. Both your sisters love yon upstart Hugh, and Linda will
have none of my wooing. I knew how it would be directly he crossed my
path. He has been mine enemy from first to last. He will undo us if we
undo not him."

Tito's eyes gleamed fiercely in the darkness.

"Methought thou hadst some token from Linda, and that all was well," he
said.

"So had I; but now she flouts me, and denies it. She says that Lotta
must have given it me. I could have sworn it was Linda; yet in the
darkness it is no easy matter to tell one from the other."

"I would not wed Lotta were I in thy place," said Tito, with a short
laugh. "She would run a stiletto through thy heart if thou didst anger
her, as soon as kiss thee if thou didst please her. She is a veritable
shrew when she is angered. Linda is a different sort. A man may lead her
anywhere through her affections, or terrify her into submission. It
matters little which, so we may win her to our purpose. I had thought
that all was going well."

"And so did I, till I spoke with her a week since, and found her as
adamant. I thought she was mine own till then; now I know that another
has her heart."

Tito gave a short laugh that was somewhat like a snarl.

"We must rid ourselves of that other then."

"So said I," returned Roger promptly. "So told I my pretty fond love--"

"Then thou wert a fool for thy pains," interrupted Tito roughly. "If the
man be warned, we shall have trouble with him."

"If the maid be frightened, she may come to her senses," retorted Roger.

Tito shook his head slightly.

"Thou dost not know what our southern women are made of," he answered.
"They love with a different love from your cold northerners, and yet the
northern blood from their mother has given to both a prudence which may
be dangerous to our plan."

Roger muttered something that sounded like a curse.

"We will be a match yet for their prudence and their caution. Men have
vanished from Oxford ere now, or have been found dead in the streets,
and none have been the wiser for it. The Chancellor shakes his head; the
other clerks clamour against the townsfolk, and perhaps a citizen is
slain in reprisal; and then the matter is forgotten. What has been
before can be again. Her lover dead, and pretty Linda will soon forget
her fancy; or, mourning for him, she will be the more easily
persuaded--and once we are sure of her, we can commence our plan, and
wealth and renown will flow in upon us. We have all in readiness save
the high priestess of the mysteries!"

"Hist, hist! have a care what thou dost say!" whispered Tito, in some
alarm. "There is peril as well as profit in our plan. The black art
finds scant favour in the eyes of the Church. Men have perished at the
stake ere now for dabbling even as deeply as we have done. Have a care
what thou dost speak in the open streets."

"Tush! none can hear," quoth Roger, with some contempt; "but as to the
other matter, we must watch our chance and use it well. Men talk of the
joustings which will soon take place if this horrid rain will but cease,
which is rotting the corn in the fields, and bringing famine to our
doors. When man meets man in full tilt in the jousting-field, it cannot
be a very hard matter to run a lance into his eye, or even to pierce his
heart. Moreover there be other chances, if eyes are kept open. Leave yon
upstart to me, and I will soon find a way of wiping off my score against
him. I have played that game before now. I shall play it the more
skilfully for the practice I have had."

"Well, well, do as thou wilt; only be cautious, for we want none of the
Chancellor's prison, and he watches over the lives and liberties of the
clerks with jealous eye. Well enow should I like to see him cleared out
of the path. I have no love for him, and he stands in the way of our
cherished plan."

"He shall not stand so long," muttered Roger between his teeth; and
then the two men moved away along the dark and unsavoury lane, whilst a
head, which had been thrust out awhile ago from an upper window, was now
drawn in, and Linda Balzani pressed her two hands to her throbbing brow.

"What devils men can be!" she whispered. "What devilry is this that they
are desiring to practise, and in which I am to be their tool? Heaven
send me strength and courage to thwart their evil schemes! O Hugh, my
love, my love! they shall not hurt thee if I can save thee. Twice warned
is thrice armed. I will save thee from their cruel malice, or I will die
with thee!"




CHAPTER IX.

_A STUDENTS' HOLIDAY._


"Wilt thou come to see the joustings in Beaumont meadows to-morrow, fair
Mistress Alys?"

Alys raised her eyes from her frame, and saw that Amalric had entered
the room with his eager, elastic step. The young De Montfort was no
stranger to that upper chamber now. Indeed, scarce a day passed but he
found his way thither, to tell the news of the city in the eager ears of
Edmund, or to look into the eyes of the fair Alys, and listen whilst she
played upon the lute.

A great friendship had sprung up between these three, and the fact that
Amalric had entered as a scholar at St. George's College in the Castle
gave them the more chance of frequent meetings. Sir Humphrey and his
wife were glad that Edmund should be enlivened by the visits of a
friend, and in his heart of hearts the Constable was devoted to the
cause of the Barons, although his position obliged him to maintain an
air of neutrality when political questions were discussed.

A great change had recently come over the lives of brother and sister.
Instead of passing their days alone in this upper room, seeing hardly
any faces but those of their parents from one week's end to another,
they now enjoyed a variety of diversions. A master of Arts came twice in
the week to instruct Edmund in some of that lore he was so eager to make
his own, and upon three other days in the week the young clerk Leofric
Wyvill made his appearance, to read with the invalid, and to assist him
with such preparation for his tutor as it was possible to make in those
days. Alys shared these readings with her brother, and was almost as
keenly interested as he. She almost neglected her tapestry frame now for
a more congenial task, but her mother still looked for the daily
portion, and she would return to it and work hard again, whilst Leofric
retailed to them such things as he had heard from those various masters
whose lectures he sedulously attended.

He was sitting beside Edmund's couch now, drawing mathematical figures
and working out the problems attached, when Amalric's voice broke in
upon them, and for the moment thoughts of study were thrown aside.

"They say it will be a brave show," continued young De Montfort: "North
and South will meet together and tilt and hold joustings. They say the
Welsh have joined the Northerners, and that they will challenge those of
the South to meet them in mock combat. They have chosen St.
Bartholomew's Day, and all men say it will be a goodly sight.--Art thou
to be there, fair mistress?"

"I know not," answered Alys; "methinks my father little likes these
students' holidays. He says there is too often more of purpose than of
jest in their joustings. I trow he will judge that I am better safe at
home."

Leofric looked up with parted lips, as though about to speak; and Edmund
observing him, said,--

"Is that thine opinion also, Leofric?"

"Perchance it is not for me to speak, seeing that I have but little
knowledge to go upon. Yet I have a feeling that to-morrow will not pass
without trouble. I have heard ill-whispers in the air. I have a fear
that one whom I love right well may be in danger on that day."

This was interesting, and all looked eagerly at Leofric.

"Tell us all," said Edmund quickly; "it may be that we can help thee."

"I speak of one whom you all know," answered Leofric,--"Hugh le Barbier,
who has shown me great kindness since I came hither a poor, raw lad--"

"Hugh le Barbier! why, I know him well," cried Amalric. "What hast thou
to say of him? If peril threatens, sure we can protect him! Tell us what
is in thy mind."

"He has an enemy," answered Leofric, "one Roger de Horn--"

At that name Edmund interrupted in his turn.

"I have heard my father speak of him. He is a turbulent fellow who has
often disturbed the peace of the town, and but for the benefit of
clergy, which he claims, would have met with some severe chastisement.
What is his cause of quarrel with honest Hugh, our friend?"

"In sooth I think it is about a maid," answered Leofric. "There be two
fair sisters--daughters of the host where both Hugh and Roger dwell.
Methinks I have told of them before. It is their faces I have drawn in
my idle hours--the two sisters so alike that few may tell them apart.
From what I can learn, methinks that Hugh and Roger both love the same
maid, and that she returns the affection of Hugh, as any maiden would.
Why Roger cannot please himself with the other, who is her very
counterpart to look at, I cannot tell," continued Leofric, who knew
nothing of the mysteries of love, and was puzzled to know how even Hugh
had come to give such deep affection to one sister, whilst showing a
calm indifference to the other; "but it seems that they have both set
their fancy upon the same. And it is whispered that Roger has vowed
vengeance upon his rival, and that he may seize upon his chance of doing
him a mischief to-morrow."

"That must be stopped," said Edmund quickly; "I will speak to my
father."

But Leofric slightly shook his head.

"I fear me that would do no good. Hugh will certainly not be withheld
from joining in the joustings. He is to tilt, with Linda's snood of
crimson ribbon fastened to his head-piece. If Roger be his antagonist in
the lists, none can well interpose. These joustings are held to be the
right of all clerks and citizens upon a holiday. To seek to stop them
now would but stir up a riot in the place which might be worse than any
mock battle in the fields."

"Then we must be there to see that our friend Hugh comes to no unfair
mischief at the hands of his rival," said Amalric quickly. "Which side
doth Hugh take--North or South? He is a dweller in the middle parts of
the country, and might choose either."

"We have agreed to throw in our lot with the South," answered Leofric,
"and Roger is of the fierce Northerners. Some men say that at the last
there will be a grand mock battle, in which all men will join. For
myself, I would sooner it came not to such a pass. I fear me there might
be less of mock fighting than true were it so."

Alys looked a little alarmed at the thought, and Amalric exclaimed,--

"Surely the Chancellor and Proctors, and the Constable your father,
could contrive to keep men from falling upon each other in such savage
fashion?"

Edmund slightly shook his head.

"I am not sure. Strange things happen in Oxford every year. It is not
many years since there was such a riot betwixt some Irish clerks and
some of the Northerners as made the Chancellor take oaths of the
students to keep the peace for the future. But new men pour in every
year, and oaths are forgotten all too quickly. I would that I could come
abroad to-morrow and see the tilting. I should not take it amiss if
there were to be some collision betwixt party and party. I sicken of
this life between high walls. I long to see life once more."

"And so thou shalt!" cried Amalric eagerly; "I have my horses here, and
I will borrow a litter from somewhere, and will take thee and Mistress
Alys to the jousting-field. There shalt thou see all that goes on, and
thy father shall give thee a few trusty fellows for a guard; so that if
there be any rioting, thou and Mistress Alys can be brought safely back
in haste, by Barbican Lane. The rioters will give the Castle a wide
berth, we may be sure; the tide of battle--if battle there be--will all
set the other way."

Alys clapped her little hands together; Edmund's eyes lighted with
anticipation. To escape from his prison, to go abroad in the streets,
was the great ambition of his life. But it was seldom that he had
achieved this end, and the thought of sharing in the gaieties of the
morrow was enchanting alike to him and to his sister.

Sir Humphrey was willing to fall in with the plan suggested. He had a
great liking for Amalric, and perhaps had already formed an idea that
the youth was attracted by his young daughter. Both youth and maiden
were still full young, but at least there was no harm in permitting them
some pleasant intercourse if they were disposed to like one another. The
Earl of Leicester was at this juncture perhaps the greatest man in the
kingdom, and an alliance with the noble house might prove of great
advantage to the knight in his career. His wife had suggested this
notion to him, and he had listened not unwillingly. In those days men
regarded their daughters somewhat in the light of chattels, to be
disposed of as best promoted the advancement of their own interests; and
the fact that Sir Humphrey was a tender father, and that Alys was the
light of his eyes, did not detract from the pleasure of the thought that
she might make a grand match, when a few years had passed over her head,
with the scion of a house as likely to thrive and increase in power and
glory as that of Simon de Montfort.

Upon the next day, therefore, he forwarded all the arrangements
suggested by Amalric, furnished a guard to his son and daughter, and
putting them under the care of young De Montfort, permitted them to
sally forth into the town to see the gay pageantry of a students'
holiday.

The sun shone brightly to-day--the clouds had all rolled away. The town
had assumed a holiday appearance, and from every door a motley multitude
poured forth. Church bells rang; at every corner were to be met
processions of clerks and scholars, many of whom had just achieved some
scholastic success, and were in consequence crowned with wreaths of
flowers; whilst their friends and supporters danced around them
similarly adorned, some disguised with masks, others in grotesque
garments like mummers--all alike bent on amusement, and all with their
faces set towards Beaumont meadows, in which the jousts and games and
tiltings were to be held.

Conspicuous amongst the gay throng in holiday attire (for the citizens
with their wives and daughters were pouring out to see the fun) was a
small group of what some took to be mummers--tall figures dressed all in
black, with masks upon their faces and weapons in their belts. There
were some six of these in all, and they glided hither and thither
amongst the shifting throng, unknown and silent, people making way for
them as they moved, as if half afraid of their strange appearance.

Alys and Edmund caught sight of them more than once, and eagerly asked
Amalric who and what they were; but he could give them no reply, and
soon they ceased to think of them in the entertainment of watching the
gay shifting throng.

A good position for seeing the jousting was fixed upon by the men in
charge of the Constable's children, and Edmund's litter was drawn up
upon a knoll under a clump of trees, which gave a pleasant shade from
the sun's rays; whilst the horse, tethered close at hand, could feed
upon the grass.

"I should like to see some of the people we have been told about," said
Alys, as she stood beside her brother's couch.--"Prithee, good Leofric,
bring to us here thy friends Hugh and Gilbert and Jack, and those two
twin sisters Lotta and Linda, and any others of whom thou hast spoken. I
would be friends with all the world to-day. Go seek them and bring them
hither, and at noon we will feast here together under the greenwood
trees, and watch the merry joustings at our ease."

Alys was in unwontedly gay spirits that day, and Leofric hurried off to
do her behests. It was easy to persuade his comrades to accept the
invitation of the Constable's daughter, and she on her side had a pretty
way of putting people at their ease in her company.

The twin sisters interested her greatly, but she did not think them
quite so wonderfully alike as she had expected. One of them was pale and
pensive, and had an anxious look in her soft eyes; whilst the other was
radiant and flushed, talking and laughing gaily with all who
approached, and throwing towards Hugh le Barbier glances of such
witchery and fascination that Alys at first thought she must be the lady
of his choice.

All seemed to be gaiety and good-humour during the early hours of the
day. Games of all sorts, trials of skill and strength, wrestling,
archery, and quoits were entered into with great zest. The jousting was
to take place after the mid-day meal, and at present the horsemen were
comparatively few; but these few rode hither and thither, and carried
off the ring from the pole with considerable skill. Alys watched
everything, and enjoyed herself mightily, making herself a very graceful
and gracious hostess to her invited guests.

As the meal proceeded she found herself able to speak a few words to the
pensive twin, whom she now knew to be Linda, the maiden whom Leofric had
said that Hugh loved. Hugh had been sitting beside her for some little
while, but now he had gone off with Gilbert to look to their horses for
the tilting, and the shadow had fallen again upon the face of the girl.

"Is aught troubling thee, maiden?" asked Alys, in a gentle tone.
"Methinks that thou art pensive where others be gay. Tell me what is in
thy heart, and I will seek to comfort thee."

Linda gave a sudden start, and glanced timidly into the face of the
younger girl; but what she saw there seemed to inspire her with
confidence. She had heard before of the gentle Alys, and felt that she
was not quite a stranger.

After a quick glance round to be sure that none else could hear her
words, she made reply,--

"In sooth, sweet mistress, I scarce know how to answer; and yet my heart
is heavy within me, and I fear I know not what. I have one who is near
and dear to me, and I trow he is in danger. Yet how to succour him I
know not; for he is brave of heart, and smiles at thought of fear; yet I
have known terrible things happen in this strange city, and I fear--I
fear!"

"What dost thou fear?" asked Alys, drawing a little closer.

"I fear foul play for him," answered Linda; "I have heard things which
make my heart heavy as lead within me. Lady, hast thou seen some strange
men in the crowd to-day--men all in black, who look to me like devils
moving amongst the merry-makers? Hast thou seen them?"

"Ay, verily have I. Methought they were mummers, but none could tell me
of them. Who and what are they?"

"I know hot for a certainty, and yet I fear them. I saw through the
mask-hole of one of them a pair of evil, flashing eyes, and methought it
was Roger de Horn who thus gazed at me with malice in his heart. I truly
think that my brother is another, and there are more whose names thou
wouldest not know. But I fear me there are certain wild spirits bound
together to do evil, and that the safety of my lover is to-day
threatened amongst them."

Alys sat silent, a sympathetic fear creeping over her. What could she
say to comfort this trembling maiden?

"But how can these men hurt him? he will be mounted, and they are on
foot. Dost think that they will join in the tourney too?"

"Nay; I should fear them less did they do so. Hugh would be more than a
match for any of them, skilled as he is in knightly exercises, strong,
and full of courage. He could unhorse Roger de Horn at one blow, despite
his size and strength; and that does yon coward and braggart well know,
wherefore he will not meet him in fair fight. What I fear is an
ambushment, in which my lover will be carried off by those wicked men.
And if he be thus spirited away, Heaven alone knows what fate may await
him: for I am very sure that these confederates have sold themselves to
the Evil One, and are masters of unholy crafts that we wot not of; and
as all men know, when such seize upon a human victim, they do him to
death with their black arts in some fearful fashion, seeking to wrest
his soul from him ere they let go their hold upon his body!" and Linda
trembled in every limb.

Alys shivered also, for these words sounded mysterious and terrible. She
did not understand their import, but none the less did they fill her
with horror.

But before another word could be said the sound of trumpet blasts smote
upon the ears of the crowd, a great shout rent the welkin, and from
opposite sides of the field two gallant parties of mounted revellers
rode in--banners flying, lances in rest--and made a complete circuit of
the meadow, the crowd flying right and left before them, until the
field, lately covered with groups of merry-makers, became cleared for
the tiltings of the mounted rivals.

It was a gallant show of student prowess, and for a while all went well;
the combatants were fairly well matched, and good-humour prevailed over
feelings of emulation and rivalry.

The sun slowly sank in the sky, but the revelry and joustings still went
on. The crowd had closed in more and more upon the combatants, and now
there was to be one great final charge, all the horsemen taking part in
it together--a sort of mock battle before the sun should set.

Edmund was growing rather weary, but was still keenly interested; whilst
Amalric, who had declined to join in the jousting, and had remained all
the while with brother and sister, gazed very intently at the grouping
of the crowd, and in particular at the movements of certain black
figures, who seemed to be directing in a rather curious fashion the
actions of certain knots of clerks and citizens, who were drawing ever
nearer and nearer to the scene of action.

"Methinks, Edmund," he said suddenly, "that thou and Alys had better be
turning homewards. The sun will soon be gone, and this is the last of
the merry-making. It would be well not to get hemmed in by the crowd as
it breaks up. I will call up the men, and we will return," and as he
spoke he gave Edmund a look which the latter instantly understood.

Alys would fain have lingered, fascinated by the strange sight
presented by the plain, where she could have fancied a real battle was
raging. There were such shouting, such clashing of arms, such defiant
yells from the combatants, that she almost trembled where she stood; and
when she mounted her palfrey, she felt that the creature was trembling
also at the unwonted clamour.

Suddenly a girl's voice close at hand broke into a quick wail of horror
and fear. Linda, clasping her hands closely together, cried in tones of
lament,--

"It has begun! it has begun! They are fighting now. Oh, what will be the
end of this?"

"Come, Mistress Alys," spoke Amalric, in tones that unconsciously
betrayed anxiety and authority, "we must not linger here. It is too
true; they have begun to 

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