The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “Enough, master, I see which way your inclinations lie; and as my legs have had a long holiday, it is but right that they should carry me for a bit; and assuredly, ’tis easier for footmen to hide than it is for horsemen.”

  “I should say, Roger, that it would be best to leave armour, as well as horses behind. If we are attacked by numbers, our armour will serve us but little; while if without it, we may be able, even if chased, to avoid the hands of these Welshmen. They say that they are swift of foot; but, as we can hold our own with the Northumbrian border men, we ought to be able to do so against these Welsh, especially as our legs are nigh a foot longer than those of the greater part of them.”

  “Very well, master. I myself have no great love for travelling in armour, and would almost as soon march in a monk’s gown, again, as in breastplate and back piece.”

  “Very well, so we will arrange it. We shall have to carry our provisions, for you may be sure that we shall get nothing, whatever, while we are following the army. They will strip the country clean. You know how terribly they have suffered by famine, on the two previous expeditions; and it will assuredly be no better, now. Food, however, we can procure at Shrewsbury, from which point we shall take our start.”

  A retainer, at this moment, came out from the hall, and informed Oswald that Sir Edmund would speak with him. When he entered, Mortimer said:

  “My knights and I agree that this letter ought to be sent forward to the king; for if it contains matters of importance, great harm might result from delay, and the king’s anger be excited against us, for not having sent it to him. His orders to me were strict, that neither I nor any of my force should join him; therefore I accept your offer, with thanks. Have you formed any plan for your proceeding?”

  Oswald repeated the substance of what he had said to Roger.

  “I think, perhaps, you are right,” Mortimer said, “and that you may have more chance of getting safely through, on foot, than if you rode with but a small force to escort you. When you are ready to start, I will speak to you in private, touching some things connected with your journey.”

  When Oswald returned, Mortimer said to him:

  “You see, Master Oswald, the position is by no means simple. There can be no doubt that the king regards me with no favourable eye. He holds my nephews in his keeping, and doubtless imagines that I bear him ill will. As their uncle, he supposes that, should at any time a party be formed to place the Earl of March on the throne, I should be the leader in the matter; though assuredly I have never given him any reason to doubt my loyalty.

  “I say not that I approved of the deposition of King Richard; and indeed I have not, like Lord Grey and many other nobles, among them the Percys, been a warm supporter of King Henry’s cause. I hold myself altogether neutral, in that matter. I saw that nothing would be more ruinous, for the country, than that a boy like my nephew should mount the throne; and had a party been formed to make him king, instead of Henry, I would have taken no share in it. Nevertheless, there is no getting over the fact that, by right, the Earl of March is King of England, and there is no saying what may come about in the future; but assuredly, at the present time, I am as ready to do my duty towards King Henry as are those who are louder in their expressions of attachment to him.

  “Nevertheless, I am well aware that the king distrusts me. As you see, he has not, these three times that he has invaded Wales, come near Ludlow. He has not summoned me to join his banner; nay, more, has strictly ordered me not to send a man-at-arms to join him.

  “I own that this letter troubles me, somewhat. Why should it not have been carried to Shrewsbury, instead of being brought hither? It has, indeed, come from London, and those who sent it may not know that the king would move by Shrewsbury, and not by this line; which would, indeed, be more direct for him in advancing into Montgomery and Cardiganshire. On the other hand, it may be a snare. If I send it not forward, he might blame me greatly for holding it back. If I send it forward, and perchance it falls, on the way, into the hands of the Welsh, he might harbour the thought, even if he did not accuse me openly, of conniving with Glendower. One pretext is as good as another, however unlikely it may be, when a king desires to make a quarrel with one of his vassals. Your offer to carry it is, then, a very seasonable one, and goes far to get me out of the difficulty.

  “In the first place, by sending it by you, I afford no ground for him to say that I have disobeyed his orders, to send no one of my following to his army; and in the next place, whatever suspicion he may have of me, assuredly he can have none of the Percys, to whom he so largely owes his crown; and that a trusted squire of Hotspur should be the bearer of the letter, is sufficient proof that all that could be done, was done, for its safe carriage. Should you fail to deliver it, he can, at least, not put it down to any fault of mine.

  “Sir James Burgon and Sir Philip Haverstone both offered to carry it, urging that the danger should fall on them; and not upon you, who are still an esquire, and have no duty towards me in the affair; and that it were a shame that they should remain here, idle, while you rode, perhaps, to your death.

  “Assuredly, my feelings were with them and, were it not for the circumstances in which I am placed, I should certainly intrust the enterprise to them; but on my laying the whole matter before them, and pointing out that the coming of two of my knights to him would be a breach of the king’s orders, they saw that, since you were willing to undertake it, it were best that it should be so.

  “I doubt not that Henry would, not unwillingly, fasten some quarrel on me. He has his army at hand and, did he march hither, he could seize my lands, and those of my nephew, and partition them out among his friends; for I am in no condition to strike a single blow in my defence. We know, well enough, that when a king wishes to get rid of one of his nobles, there is never any great difficulty in finding a pretext for his arrest, and execution.”

  “I quite understand, Sir Edmund; and for my part, I will assuredly do my best to place this letter in the hands of the king. I shall say that, being of Sir Henry Percy’s household, and knowing that my lord would be glad that I should have the opportunity of striking a blow under the king’s leading, I volunteered at once, when the letter arrived, to bear it to him; and that, seeing his majesty had laid his orders on you, to keep all your force in readiness to repel Glendower, should he issue out in this quarter, you granted my request that I should be its bearer.”

  “That will do well, Oswald. I know that the danger is by no means small, but I trust that you may surmount it. I shall send off a letter, today, to Hotspur. Doubtless you will, yourself, be writing to him, and explain to him why I have suffered you to undertake so dangerous an enterprise.”

  Two hours later, Oswald, having despatched the messenger to Hotspur with his own letter, and that of Mortimer, mounted, and with Roger rode to Shrewsbury. Here he was able to gather but little news, as to the present position of the army. For four days no messengers had arrived from the king.

  The last news was to the effect that the army was marching forward, through Montgomeryshire. On first starting, they had made a long march to Welshpool, and thence had proceeded to Newtown. On the way, the Welsh had rushed down from the hills, and had fallen on the baggage, slain many of the drivers, and killed so many horses that it had been necessary to leave some of the waggons behind.

  At Newtown they halted, and parties had been sent out in all directions to harry the country, while a part of the force left at Welshpool marched upon Llanfair. This was the last news that had come through from the king.

  But from Welshpool they heard, next day, that there had been several skirmishes with the Welsh, and that heavy rains had made the roads all but impassable. No more messages had come. This was not surprising, as it was certain that the Welsh would close in behind the army, as it advanced; and as there would be no great occasion to send news back, the king would not care to weaken himself, by detaching escorts of sufficient strength to make their way down.

  �
��If we could have been sure which way the king had been going, Roger, it would have been much shorter for us to have made direct for Llanidloes.”

  “Certainly it would, Master Oswald; but you see, he might have turned more to the north, in which case we should have, perhaps, been unable to gather news of his whereabouts, while we should have run no small risk of getting our throats cut.”

  “It is evident, Roger, that the king is marching, at present, in the direction of Plinlimmon. No doubt he hopes that Glendower will come down and give him battle, but methinks he will not be foolish enough to do so. The weather, and the hills, will fight far better for him than the Welsh, themselves, can do; and he has but to leave the army to wander about through the mountains and forests, as he did last time, to ensure that they must, ere long, fall back.”

  At daybreak the next morning, they set out and rode to Welshpool. This being a walled town, and the population almost entirely English, they could leave their horses here, in safety. They first went to the governor’s, and upon Oswald’s explaining that they were the bearers of a letter for the king, and asking whether he could give them any information as to the direction they had best take, he shook his head.

  “No news has come hither, for the last five days,” he said. “A herd of bullocks arrived here, three days since, and were to have been forwarded on to the army; but the Welsh are out in force, and every road beset. Parties have come down from the hills overlooking us, and have fired several houses, that escaped when they last attacked us. My force is sufficient to hold the town against any attacks, but I cannot spare so many men as would be required to convoy the cattle. I told the king so, before he went on; but he said that no Welshman would dare show himself, when the army had once passed on; and that every Welsh house and village would be destroyed, and all within them put to the sword, so that I should have no difficulty in sending forward cattle, and other supplies.

  “That the villages have been destroyed I have no doubt, for the messengers who came in from Llanfair told me that, as they passed over the hills, they could see smoke rising from the forests in all directions; but whether the inhabitants remained, quietly awaiting the arrival of the troops, is more than doubtful. There were beacon fires on all the hills, the night before the army left Shrewsbury, and again on the next night. Since then, we have seen no more from here, but those who came from Llanfair told us that they were burning, on every hill, the night they got there; so I have no doubt that the old men, women, and children were at once sent off, probably to shelter in the Plinlimmon district, or mayhap in the forests of Cader Idris. At any rate, we may be sure that very few will be found at their villages. It was so the last time the king’s army marched along, and the same when he made his way through Denbigh to Anglesey.

  “The Welsh care little for the burning of their houses. It takes but two or three days’ work to rebuild them. The harrying of the villages will not bring the matter a day nearer to a conclusion. It is by destroying the castles and houses of the better class that an effect will be produced. The peasants have little to lose. The Welsh gentry have houses and estates, and the fear of losing these may drive them to abandon Glendower, and to come over to us. Many did so, after the king’s last invasion. Methinks the best policy would be to spare the villagers, and give the peasants no cause for complaint, and to war only against their leaders.

  “But as to yourself, sir, there is not the most remote chance of your getting through; and you had best wait here until the army returns, or some levies, who may have arrived late at Shrewsbury, come up on their way to join the king.”

  “I inquired at Shrewsbury, last night, sir; but I heard that no more parties were expected, the contingents from all the counties having joined the king, at Worcester, on the day ordered. My intention is that I and my man-at-arms will leave our horses here, and go forward on foot. In that way we can travel, for the most part, through the forests; and may escape being seen. We have already left our armour behind us, at Ludlow, so as to be able to move more rapidly. We are both Northumbrians, and are accustomed to traverse moors and fells; and, even should we be seen by any straggling party of the enemy, we shall have a fair chance of outrunning them, and throwing them off our track. At any rate, it is my duty to endeavour to carry the letter to the king.”

  “Is it a matter of life and death?”

  “That I know not, sir. A royal messenger brought it, from London, to Ludlow. He had ridden with relays of horses, but had no means of getting farther, and begged Sir Edmund Mortimer to forward it. I myself, an esquire of Sir Henry Percy, was staying as a guest with Sir Edmund—who is, as you know, my lord’s brother-in-law—and I volunteered to carry it, being anxious to have an opportunity of doing service to the king.”

  “It was a bold offer, young man, and doubtless, when you made it, you were scarce aware how dangerous was the business that you undertook. Did I think that it would be of any use, I would furnish you with twenty men-at-arms to ride with you; but I know that such a force would, in no way, add to your safety. You might get as far as Llanidloes, or Llanfair, whichever route you might choose, though I think not that you would do so; but beyond that, it would be hopeless for any force, of less than five hundred good fighting men, to attempt to make their way through.

  “From what I hear, there are at least fifteen thousand Welshmen in arms. Many, doubtless, are with Glendower himself. The rest will be scattered among the hills, ready to pounce upon any party who may be moving up the valleys to join the king; and there are plenty of places where a couple of hundred men could check the advance of an army.”

  “Then it is all the more necessary, sir, that we should trust to good fortune, and to making our way unseen. May I pray you to take care of our horses, till we return to claim them? Should we never do so, there are doubtless many upon whom you could bestow them; and they are both rarely good animals, for one was presented to me by Sir Henry Percy, and the other by Sir Edmund Mortimer.”

  “I will take care of them, willingly. If you do not return, before the king marches back; and I find, when he comes, that you did not reach him; I will use the horses myself, holding them always as your property should you, at any time, return to claim them. Is there aught else that I can do to help you?”

  “No, sir; what would, of all other things, be most valuable to us would be a guide; but, from what I have seen and heard of the Welsh, I fear that no reliance, whatever, can be placed on one of them.”

  “Certainly not at present. Did you take one, he would but slip away at the first opportunity; and there is no Englishman, so far as I know, who could guide you through the mountains.”

  “In that case, sir, we must perforce travel close to the roads, so as to be sure that we do not wander from the track, but keeping in the shelter of the forest.”

  “That is the only possible course,” the governor agreed; “to be lost, among those hills, would be certain death. If you failed to fall in with anyone, you would die of hunger. If you did meet anyone, you would be killed. Glendower spares no Englishman who falls into his hands.”

  “I don’t know that he can be greatly blamed for that, sir,” Oswald said with a smile, “seeing that the Welsh meet with such scant mercy, from us.”

  “’Tis a savage war,” the governor said, shrugging his shoulders, “and it seems to me that it will continue, until the last Welshman is exterminated.”

  “That will be a difficult thing, indeed, to effect,” Oswald laughed; “as difficult as was the extermination of wolves in England; but I hope that matters will arrange themselves, long before that. Surely, in time, the Welsh leaders will see that the struggle is a hopeless one; and that they will lose their homes, and their possessions, and their lives, if they continue it.

  “Brave as the Welsh may be, they cannot withstand the whole strength of England. They may exist in the forests, for a time; but, with all the valleys and fertile lands in English hands, they will at last be forced to submit.”

  “It would seem so; bu
t Edward said the same thing, of Scotland. He carried fire and sword through it, time after time; and yet Scotland has still its king, and holds its own on the border.”

  “That is so, sir; but Scotland is a large country, whereas Wales is a small one; and the towns and castles are English, as are all the ports; and the people themselves, although brave, are wholly without discipline, and are able to fight only in the mountains; while the Scots are strong enough to give battle to us on level ground, and have defeated us, more than once.”

  “My advice to you is to leave the town at night,” the governor said, as Oswald rose to leave. “There may be many of the Welsh lying round us now; and doubtless they learn, from their countrymen here, all that is doing. I will give you a scroll, ordering that you are allowed to pass out at any time, by night or day.”

  “Thank you, sir. I had intended to start tomorrow morning, two hours before daybreak, so as to get well into the forest before sunrise. I shall, of course, go first to Llanidloes; where, doubtless, a strong guard will have been left. As far as that I cannot well miss my way, as I shall have but to keep along the side of the valley.”

  “That is so. Beyond that, the river is a mere streamlet, and you will have to make across the hills.”

  “Do you know, sir, whether the force that went to Llanfair was to effect a junction with the king?”

  “No, I believe not; at any rate, not for the present. The party was to march west; the king’s force was to move south of Plinlimmon; Lord Talbot’s to cross the range of hills, and come down upon the river Dovey and, if possible, prevent Glendower, if he is still on Plinlimmon, from making his way to Dinas Mowddwy, or Cader Idris, or up to Snowdon again. The plan is doubtless as good as another, but I doubt whether Talbot’s force, if ten times as numerous as it is, could prevent Glendower from slipping away.”