CHAPTER XXII.

It was about one o'clock on the 4th of August, 1265, when Simon de

Montfort--having the King upon his right hand, with Lord le Despenser,

the high justiciary, on the monarch's right, the Earl of Monthermer and

Lord Ralph Basset, on his own left, and some four or five and twenty

knights and gentlemen following close upon his steps--rode out from the

highway leading from Evesham to Alcester, upon that ever renowned

plain, where the truncheon of power was to be wrested from his grasp

for ever.

The country was for the most part open, but there was a little wood and

some rising ground to the right, a rivulet running along across the

patch of common land which the road now traversed, and a cultivated

field with its hedgerow on the left. About a quarter of a mile from the

point at which the highway issued from between the banks, was a stone

post, marking the spot where three roads, coming down from some slight

hills in front, met and united in the one along which De Montfort had

marched from Evesham. For nearly the same distance beyond, these roads

might be seen crossing the common, and then, plunging amongst woods and

hedges, they ascended the gentle slope opposite.

The day was not so fine as the preceding one; clouds were gathering in

the sky; the air was heavy and oppressive; the horses either languid or

impatient, and everything announced that the sun would go down in

storms. A small advanced guard had been sent forward to reconnoitre the

country in front, and, the head of the column of the army was about a

hundred yards behind the general and his companions; but no detachment

had been on this, as on the preceding day, thrown out to examine the

fields to the left of the line of march.

De Montfort's brow was calm and serene; he hoped, ere many hours were

over, to unite his forces to those of his eldest son, and then, turning

upon his enemy, to terminate the contest at a blow. Ere he had reached

the stone at the crossing of the roads, however, three or four

horsemen, at headlong speed, came down from the rising ground in front,

and in a moment after the whole advance-guard were seen in full

retreat.

"What is this?" asked De Montfort, spurring on his horse to meet the

first of the men-at-arms who was approaching. "What news bring you in

such haste?"

"My lord, there is a mighty power coming down upon you," cried the man;

"we saw them from the edge of the slope beyond--full twenty thousand

men."

"Did you see their banners?" demanded De Montfort.

"No," answered the Messenger; "there were banners in plenty, but I

marked not what they were."

"You are speedily alarmed," said the Earl, in a cold tone. "Hugh de

Monthermer," he proceeded, speaking to the young Lord, who was close

behind, "gallop up that hill there to the right, and bring us word what

your keen eyes can see. I will ride on to the other slope, and judge

for myself."

Hugh was away in a moment, and De Montfort continued, turning in the

saddle--"My kind friend, Monthermer--my good Lord Ralph--I beseech you,

array the men as they issue forth from between the banks. These that

are coming must be the forces of my son from Kenilworth, but it is as

well to be prepared. My Lord le Despenser, I leave you to entertain his

Majesty--I will be back directly. Some of you gentlemen follow me;" and

spurring on at full speed, he crossed the little rivulet, and ascended

the first slope of the ground beyond.

He there paused, for some minutes, watching attentively the country

before him, through which, upon the left-hand road, was advancing a

large body of men, under numerous banners. At length, he seemed

satisfied, turned his horse, and rode back at an easy canter to the

spot where the old Earl of Monthermer and Lord Ralph Basset were

arraying the spearmen, archers, and crossbowmen, who had by this time

come forth upon the common, while the men-at-arms were only beginning

to appear, taking up a position behind the infantry.

"It is as well," said De Montfort, speaking, as they returned, to one

of the gentlemen who had followed him--"it is as well to put them in

array, for we shall halt here for an hour, while the men refresh

themselves. You saw those banners?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the knight; "I marked that of your son, and

that of the Earl of Oxford."

"We will give them a cheer when they come up," continued De Montfort;

and he rode on to the Earl of Monthermer, saying--"It is my son,

Monthermer; I see his banner, and Oxford's likewise. But here comes

your nephew. Who is this he is driving down before him, at the point of

the lance? A crossbowman, it seems."

"My lord--my lord!" cried Hugh de Monthermer, as he came up--"prepare

for instant battle. Prince Edward's army is within a mile, and Mortimer

is coming up on the right-hand road!"

"What! to the right?" exclaimed De Montfort. "How came he there?--Well,

let them come! they will meet more than they expected. My son is on the

left. Advance our wing, my good Lord of Monthermer, that we may join

with him more easily."

"My lord, you are deceived," said Hugh, eagerly; "the banners you have

seen are not your son's."

"But----" cried De Montfort.

"Speak, sirrah!" exclaimed Hugh, turning sternly to the crossbowman,

whom he had driven down before him; "speak, and let the Earl hear the

truth. Such bitter tidings should only come from the lips of an enemy.

Speak, I say. My lord, this is one of Gloucester's archers; he will

tell you more."

"Let him, then," said the Earl. "Who are these, marching against me,

sirrah?"

"Prince Edward, Roger Mortimer, and Gilbert de Clare," replied the man.

"Your son, my lord--kill me if you will, but it is the truth--your son

was surprised in his bed, at Kenilworth, his army routed and dispersed,

thirteen barons displaying their own banners were taken, and as many

more were slain. The banners you have seen were captured by the Prince,

and are hung out but to deceive you."

"And my son?" asked De Montfort, gazing earnestly in the man's face.

"What of my son?"

"He escaped, my lord," replied the archer, "he escaped, and threw

himself into the castle."

"Take him to the rear," said De Montfort. "Lo! where they come! A

mighty power, indeed!! How orderly--how firm!--The boy learnt that from

me. Now, God have mercy on our souls--for our bodies are Prince

Edward's!"

He added the latter words in a lower voice, but so as to be distinctly

heard by the gentlemen around him. A moment after, he raised his head

proudly, saying, "However, he must be met boldly, and we must do our

duty as knights and gentlemen. Every one who is willing to do so may

this day conquer high renown, if he wins no other prize; but should

there be any one who fears to fight and fall with De Montfort, he has

full leave to go; for I would not have it said, when men shall talk of

this glorious, though perhaps disastrous day, that there was one coward

amongst all those who did battle at Evesham. Let us make the best of

our array, my Lord of Monthermer. Yonder wood is a point that

must be maintained. Hugh, line the hedges of that little field with

archers--place me there our stout foresters from Sherwood: it is a

point of much importance. Take up your post beyond them there with your

men-at-arms--have some archers and slingers in your front, and keep the

ground between the further hedge and those scrubby bushes and hawthorn

trees, amongst which their horsemen cannot act. I put you in a post of

difficulty and danger, young gentleman, but I know that you will acquit

you well; and now for the rest of our array. The enemy are halting for

their own arrangements, but still we must lose no time."

Thus saving, he rode slowly along towards the wood, giving his orders

as he went, and ranging his men for battle; while Hugh de Monthermer

proceeded to execute the commands he had received. Every post was soon

filled up, and before two o'clock the adverse armies were completely

arrayed facing each other; but, alas, that of Prince Edward

outnumbering the force opposed to him in the proportion of two to one!

Nearly in the centre of De Montfort's line was the Earl of Leicester,

and at a little distance the weak and false King Henry, cased in

complete armour, and riding a strong black charger; for on both sides

the royal standard was displayed, and in a brief consultation amongst

the principal nobles, it had been judged necessary, as the King's name

was used in all public acts by the Lords Commissioners, to let the

soldiers see him actually in arms on their behalf. Neither had Henry

himself appeared in the least unwilling to play this part, for although

surrounded by a number of guards, he still entertained the hope of

escaping in the hurry and confusion of battle.

In the right of the same army was placed the gallant young Henry de

Montfort, a godson of the King, and, like Hugh de Monthermer, a

playfellow of Prince Edward; for in those dire civil wars, as is ever

the case, all the sweet relationships of life were torn asunder, and

the hearts that loved each other the best were frequently armed for

each other's destruction.

In the left wing was the banner of Monthermer, and under it fought, not

only the regular retainers of the house, but the yeomen and foresters

of Yorkshire and Nottingham. The slingers, as usual, were thrown

forward about a hundred and fifty yards before the rest of the army,

closely supported by the lighter pikemen, and taking advantage of every

bush and brake which might give them shelter, while they discharged

their missiles at the enemy. Behind them were some thousands of Welsh

foot, who had been engaged as auxiliaries by De Montfort, and then came

the lines of sturdy English archers and regular spear-men, supported by

the men-at-arms.

It was a fine array to look upon, and stern and firm seemed the front

of De Montfort's battle; but the vast superiority of the enemy's

numbers cast a shadow, as it were, upon the spirits of the soldiery,

while in the hearts of the leaders was nothing but the certainty of

defeat and death. Had it been any other body, perhaps, that opposed

them but an English force, had any other generals commanded the adverse

party but Edward and Gloucester, their confidence in their own courage

and in their great leader might have taught them to look with hope even

to the unequal struggle before them. The troops, however, by whom they

were outnumbered were English soldiers, the chiefs who led the enemy

were famous for their warlike skill and courage, and all were fresh

from victory, and elated with recent success.

Upon the field of battle the banners which had been assumed to mislead

De Montfort were cast by, and those of the different leaders themselves

displayed. The troops of Mortimer and the Lords Marchers were on the

right, the division of Gloucester on the left, and the command of

Edward himself in the centre. In the army of the Prince, hope and

exultation were in every bosom, confidence was strong, and, amongst the

foreign favourites of Henry III. who were ranged in that force, the

burning thirst for revenge upon him who had overthrown their fortunes,

and well-nigh driven them from the land, added fierceness to their

courage, and a savage joy at the thought of the coming vengeance.

After the array was complete, a stern and gloomy silence pervaded the

whole line of De Montfort. Each man thought of to-morrow, of the home

that he might never see again, the children left fatherless, the

widowed wife, the promised bride, the sweet, warm relations of domestic

life, soon to be torn by the bloody hand of war.

Yet none but the auxiliaries thought of flying: not one dreamt of

avoiding the fate before him, for each man there arrayed came with a

firm conviction of right and justice on his side; Each believed that he

was fighting for the deliverance of his country from foreign

domination; each came ready to die for the liberty and the freedom of

the people of England. They were determined, resolute, unshaken, but

they were without hope, and therefore in stern silence they awaited the

onset of the foe.

On the other side, for some time, nothing was heard but cheerful

sounds, the leaders' shouts, the repeated blasts of the clarion and the

trumpet, till at length, amongst them also, a momentary solemn pause

succeeded, giving notice that the battle was about to begin. They hung

like a thunder-cloud upon the edge of the slope, and that temporary

calm but preceded the breaking forth of the tempest.

The heavy masses then, for a moment, seemed to tremble; and then a few

men ran forward from the ranks, slinging, even from a distance at which

no effect could be produced, large balls of stone or lead at the front

of De Montfort's line. Others followed quick, in irregular masses; and

then, moved on, somewhat more slowly, but in fine and soldierly order,

the whole of Edward's overpowering force.

A pin might have been heard to drop in the host of De Montfort, so

still was the expectant silence with which they awaited the attack of

the immense army which seemed not only about to assail them at once in

front, but lapping over at both extremities, to crush either flank

under the charge of its numerous cavalry.

The skilful dispositions of the great Earl, however, had secured them

against that danger; and the wood on the right hand, which he had

filled with archers and foot spearmen, defended one wing, while the

hedges and low hawthorn trees, near which he had planted Hugh de

Monthermer and the bowmen of Sherwood, were a protection to the left.

Nevertheless, the latter point was one of considerable danger, and

Edward marked it as the weakest part of De Montfort's line. Scarcely

had the first movement in the prince's army taken place, when a strong

body of horse, following close upon a band of crossbowmen, was

observed by Hugh de Monthermer marching straight against his post,

headed by the banner of Bigod Earl of Norfolk; and leaving his

men-at-arms for a moment, he galloped to the spot where his friend

Robin stood, saying in a low voice, "Here will they make their first

attack, Robin, in order to turn our flank."

"Let them come!" replied Robin Hood, "we will give a good account of

them. We have planted stakes for their horses, my lord, so if you have

to charge, mark well the gaps."

"I see--I see!" cried Hugh de Monthermer, "but as it is a great object

to put them in disarray, send them a flight from your bowstrings as

soon as the arrows will tell."

"Ours will tell now!" said Robin, and at the same time he raised his

bow above his head as a signal to his men.

At that instant a few balls dropping from the enemy's stingers, fell

impotent along De Montfort's line; but the next moment a hundred and

fifty arrows shot into the air, scattered the crossbowmen in face of

Hugh de Monthermer's band, and even caused considerable disarray

amongst the men-at-arms, from Norfolk.

A whole flight from Edward's army then darkened the air, but reached

not the opposite host; and the Earl of Monthermer, distrusting his

nephew's impetuosity, rode down to beg him on no account to charge till

the battle had really begun.

It was not long ere such was the case, however. Onward, with increasing

rapidity, came the force of the Prince; the arrows and the quarrels on

both sides began to work fearful havoc in the ranks; and the

men-at-arms might be seen closing the barred aventaille, preparing to

enter with each other into deadly strife. The arrows from the

Nottingham bows--unmatched throughout all England--did execution of a

fearful kind amongst the crossbowmen opposed to them. One went down

after another as they hurried forward; their ranks became thinner and

more thin; and at length, the men-at-arms behind them, finding that the

living as well as the dead and wounded encumbered without serving,

called to them loudly to retire, that they themselves might advance to

charge. Before the retreat of the infantry could well be accomplished,

the Earl of Norfolk gave the word; and with levelled lances the

horsemen sushed on, though repeated arrows from an unerring hand struck

every part of the Earl's own armour as he approached.

"At the horses!" cried the voice of Robin Hood, as the men-at-arms drew

near; and in an instant another flight, point blank, rattled like hail

amongst the advancing cavalry. Five or six chargers instantly went

down, and others, furious with pain, reeled and plunged, spreading

disarray around.

Hugh de Monthermer was now about to give the order to advance, in order

to support the archers, and complete what they had done, but at that

instant a cry of, "They fly--they fly!" came from the right; and,

looking up the line, he perceived the whole body of Welsh auxiliaries

running from the field in rout and disarray. The panic of any large

body of an army, we are told, generally communicates itself more or

less, to the whole; but such was not the case upon the present

occasion. A shout of indignant anger burst from the other troops as the

Welsh went by, for it was forgotten that they were not fighting for

their country's safety or deliverance, like the rest of that host; but

every one made way for them to pass, and, filling up the open space as

fast as possible, presented a still sterner face than before to the

advancing enemy.

One of the chief defences of the centre, however, was now gone: it was

like an outwork forced; and a charge of men at-arms taking place on

both sides, the whole line was speedily engaged.

From the firm front of the Nottingham archers, and the terrible,

unceasing shower of arrows they kept up, the bands of the Earl of

Norfolk turned off in disorder, at the very moment he had led them up

almost to the stakes. Hugh de Monthermer, charging while they were

still in confusion, drove them back in complete rout; but the troops of

Mortimer sweeping up; changed the fortune of the parties, and Hugh

knowing the absolute necessity of keeping firm the post he occupied,

retreated unwillingly to his first position.

It was now that the Yorkshire spearmen, with the young franklin at

their head, did gallant service to the cause which they espoused.

Advancing with their long lances, they kept the enemy at bay, and, in

spite of charge after charge, made by Mortimer and others, maintained

their ground against the whole force of the Prince's right wing.

In other parts of the field, however, numbers were gradually prevailing

against all that courage and resolution, could do. The _mêlée_ had

begun in all its fierceness, knight fought with knight, man opposed

man, hurry and confusion were seen in all parts of the field, while the

clang of arms, the blasts of the trumpet, the shouts of the combatants,

the loud voice of the commanders, the galloping of horse, the groans of

the dying, and the screams of men receiving agonizing wounds, offered

to the ear of heaven a sound only fit for the darkest depth of hell.

Charge after charge was poured upon the left wing of De Montfort's

army; but Mortimer, Bigod, and the Earl of Pembroke, in vain led down

their horse against the gallant band of spearmen and archers. Each time

they approached, they were driven back, either by the fierce flights of

arrows, the long spears of Pontefract, or the encounter of the

men-at-arms.

Once only was the line, between the hedged field we have mentioned and

the hawthorn trees, shaken for an instant by overpowering numbers; and

then the old Earl of Monthermer, seeing his nephew's peril, galloped

down, at the head of a strong band of men-at-arms, and aided to repel

the enemy.

He paused one moment by his nephew's side ere he left him, saying; "It

will be very glorious, Hugh, if we can maintain our ground till night.

Farewell, my dear boy; do your devoir, and, if we never meet again on

earth, God bless you!"

"I beseech you, sir," replied Hugh, "take care of your own invaluable

life; remember, you are as much aimed at by the enmity of the

foreigners as even De Montfort."

"I will never fall alive into their hands," replied the old Earl, "but

I quit not this field, so long as there is light to wield the sword."

Thus saying, he rode away to a spot where the battle was thickening,

round the banner of De Montfort itself; and his presence there

apparently aided to restore the field; for, shortly after, the whole

force of Prince Edward withdrew for a short space, like a tiger that

has been disappointed of its spring, and hung wavering upon the edge of

the slope, as if collecting vigour for a new charge.

At the same time, the sky overhead, which, as I have before said, had

been threatening during the whole morning, grew darker and darker, so

as to be more like that of a gloomy November evening; than the decline

of a summer's day.

The pause which had taken place seemed a part of Edward's plan for

breaking the firm line of his adversary, as it was more than once

repeated during the battle; but it was never of long duration. The next

instant his trumpets blew the charge, and down came the thundering

cavalry, pouring at once upon every part of De Montfort's army. On the

Earl's side, too, after a rapid flight of arrows from the archers, the

men-at-arms advanced to meet the coming foe, and again the battle was

urged hand to hand.

It were vain to attempt a picture of the various deeds that were done

that day in different parts of the field, for seldom in the annals of

warfare has a combat taken place in which such acts of prowess and

stern determination were displayed on either part. Edward himself,

Mortimer, Gloucester, the Earl of Ashby and his son, Bigod, and

Valence, and a thousand others of noble birth and high renown fought,

both as generals and soldiers, with personal exertions and valour,

which could only be displayed in a chivalrous system of warfare; while

on the other, De Montfort, Monthermer, Le Despenser, Basset, St. John,

Beauchamp, De Ros, put forth energies almost superhuman to

counterbalance the disadvantage of numbers, and to wrest a victory from

the hand of fate.

In one place, Humphrey de Bohun was struck down by one of Edward's

men-at-arms; and a peasant with an oucin was preparing to dispatch him,

ere he could rise, when William de York came to his rescue, and slew

the foot soldier; but, even as De Bohun rose and regained his horse,

his deliverer was killed by a quarrel from a crossbow.

In another part, the King himself was assailed, and wounded by one of

his own son's followers, who had even shortened his lance to pin him to

the earth, as he lay prostrate before him, when throwing back his

aventaille, the monarch exclaimed, "Out upon thee, traitor.--I am Henry

of Winchester, thy king: Where is my son?"

As he spoke, a knight, taller, by a head, than any man around, and

clothed from the crown to the heel in linked mail, sprang to the ground

beside him, and thrusting the soldier fiercely back, raised the monarch

from the ground, exclaiming, "Mount, mount, my father, and away! Come

to the rear, and let your wound be searched.--Give me your horse's

rein.--You at least are free, and that is worth a victory."

The King sprang on his horse, and Edward led him by the bridle to the

rear of his own army.

Almost at the same moment, on the left of De Montfort's line, Alured de

Ashby and Hugh de Monthermer met in full career; the former charging

the well-known shield of Monthermer with animosity only the more

fierce, perhaps, because he knew that it was unjust; the latter meeting

him unwillingly, though compelled by circumstances to do his knightly

devoir. His very reluctance, however, made him more calm and thoughtful

than his fiery assailant; and, aiming his lance right at the crest of

his adversary, in order to cast him from his horse and make him

prisoner, rather than kill him, he galloped on with a wary eye. The

young lord of Ashby's spear, charged well and steadily, struck full

upon the shield of his opponent, pierced through the plate of steel and

touched the hauberk; but stopped there, without even shaking him in the

saddle, and broke off in splinters; while Monthermer's lance, catching

the steel casque just above the aventaille, hurled his adversary to the

ground, bruised, but unwounded.

Several of Monthermer's followers instantly ran up on foot to seize the

discomfited knight, and make him prisoner; but a charge of fresh troops

drove them back, and Alured de Ashby remounting his horse, rode away

with no light addition to his former hatred for Hugh de Monthermer.

The momentary retirement of Edward from the field now caused another of

those pauses in the battle, which have been already mentioned. His

forces once more withdrew for a short space, slowly and sullenly, the

archers on either side continuing to discharge their arrows, though

with but little effect. About the same time, a flash somewhat faint,

but blue and ghastly, came across the sky, and then the low muttering

of distant thunder.

"Ha!" said Robin Hood, who was standing by the side of Hugh de

Monthermer at the moment; "that trumpet will be but little attended to

to-day. Heaven's voice too rarely is."

"Too rarely, indeed!" replied Hugh. "Have you lost many men, Robin?"

"Well-nigh two score, I fear," answered Robin Hood. "Poor Brown was

rash, and ventured beyond the stakes with his little band of

Mansfield-men. They are all gone; but we have filled up the gap."

"Can you still maintain your post?" demanded Hugh.

"With God's will and the help of the blessed Virgin, we shall do very

well here," said Robin; "but I fear, my lord, for the centre and the

right. Look up there, just in the second line, where there are so many

gathering to one spot. Some great man is hurt there."

"My uncle was there a moment ago," exclaimed Hugh; "I fear it is he!"

"No, no, my lord!" replied an old knight of the house of Monthermer,

who was on his horse close by; "my lord, your uncle is safe. I have

seen him since the last charge, though he seems resolved to lose his

life."

"I do beseech you, Sir John Hardy," said Hugh, "if we lose the day,

look to my uncle, and force him from the battle, should it be needful."

"You stay on the field then, my lord, I suppose?" asked the old knight.

"I do," answered Hugh.

"Then, I stay too," replied Sir John Hardy.

"Nay, that is folly," cried Robin Hood. "Let each man fight so long as

fighting may avail; but when the day is clearly lost, the brave man,

who would spill his best blood to win it, then saves the life that God

gave him to do God service at another time. But, see--all the leaders

are gathering to that point! You had better go, my lord, and bring us

tidings. We will ensure the ground till your return."

"Command the troop then till I come back, Sir John," said Hugh, and

riding along the front of the line, under a shower of arrows from the

enemy, he approached the spot--where, sheltered from the sight

of the adversary's lines by a thick phalanx of foot spearsmen and

men-at-arms,--was collected a group of noblemen of the first rank,

seeming to hold a council round the royal standard, which was there

erected.

When Hugh came near, however, he saw that the occasion was a sadder

one. His uncle, the Lords of Mandeville, Basset, Crespigny, Beauchamp,

and Le Despenser, were standing dismounted round the famous Earl of

Leicester, who was stretched upon the ground, with his head and

shoulders supported by the knee and arm of a monk. Deep in his breast,

piercing through and through the steel hauberk, was buried the head of

a broken lance, and in his right was a cloth-yard arrow. He had just

concluded, what seemed his confession, in extremis; and the good man

was murmuring over him in haste the hurried absolution of the field of

battle. His countenance was pale; the dull shadow of death was upon it;

the lips were colourless and the nostrils widely expanded, as if it

caused an agonizing effort to draw his breath; but the eye was still

bright and clear, and--while the man of God repeated the last words--it

rolled thoughtfully over the faces of all around, resting with an

anxious gaze upon those with whom he was most familiar.

"Draw out the lance," he said, speaking to the surgeon of his

household, who stood near.

"If I do, my lord," replied the leech, "you cannot survive ten

minutes."

"That is long, enough," said de Montfort. "My boy Henry is gone; I saw

him fall, and I would not be much behind him. Draw it out, I say, I

cannot breathe and I must needs speak to my friends. Le Despenser; make

him draw it out; I shall have time enough for all I have to do."

Unwillingly, and not without a considerable effort, the surgeon tore

the head of the lance out of the wound; but, contrary to his

expectation; very little blood followed. The Earl bled inwardly.

He seemed to feel instant relief, however, saying--"Ah, that is

comfort! keep that steel, my friend, as the instrument that sent De

Montfort to heaven. Now mark me, lords and nobles," he continued, in a

firm voice--"mark me and never forget, that at his last hour, going to

meet his Saviour in judgment, De Montfort declares that those who

accuse him of ambition do belie him. I say now, as I have said ever,

that my every act and every thought have been for my country's good. I

may have been mistaken--doubtless, have been so often; but that my

intentions have been pure, I do most fervently call Heaven to witness.

So much for that; and now, my friends, I am fast leaving you. My sun,

like yonder orb, is setting rapidly: I for ever--he to rise again. He

may yet shine brightly on the cause I can no longer support, but it

must be upon another field, and upon another day. Preserve yourselves

for that time, my friends, I exhort, I beseech you! Basset, Monthermer,

Le Despeuser, this battle is lost; but you may yet, as night is coming,

effect your retreat in safety. It is no dishonour to quit a well-fought

but unequal field. Show, a firm face to the enemy; gather all our poor

soldiers together; retire as orderly as may be till night covers you,

then disperse, and each man make the best of his way to his own

stronghold. Monthermer, you shake your head!"

"I have sworn, De Montfort," said his old friend, kneeling down and

grasping his hand, "not to quit this field so long as there is light in

yonder sky to strike a stroke, and I must keep my vow."

"You are going, my noble friend," said Lord Ralph Basset--"you are

going on a journey where you must have companions. I am with you,

Leicester, and that right soon."

"Good bye, De Montfort," said Lord le Despenser. "Go on; I will not

make you wait. We shall meet again in half an hour."

A faint smile came upon the lip of the dying man. "Must it be so?" he

asked. "Well, then, range your men! Upon them altogether! and let the

traitors, who have betrayed their country, make such a field, that

Evesham plain shall be sung and talked of so long as liberty is dear to

the hearts of Englishmen.--Hark, they are coming!" he continued, in a

faint voice, with his eye rolling languidly from side to side.

"No, my lord, that is thunder," said the surgeon.

"Ha!" replied De Montfort, vacantly, "thunder!--I am very thirsty."

Some one ran and brought him a little water from the stream. It seemed

to refresh him; and, raising himself for an instant upon his arm, he

gazed around with a countenance, full of stern enthusiasm, exclaiming

aloud, "Do your devoir!" and with those words he fell back into the

arms of the priest, a corpse.

A dozen voices, replied, "We will!" and each man springing on his

horse, regained the head of his band. Just as Edward's troops were once

more in movement to advance, the word was given along the whole of the

confederate line, the trumpets blew to the charge, and the army, which

had held its firm position up to that hour, rushed forward to meet the

adversary like a thunder-cloud rolling down a hill.

The sun, at the same moment, touched the edge of the horizon, shining

out beneath the edge of the stormy canopy that covered the greater

part of the sky, and blending its red descending light with the

thunder-drops which were now pattering large and thick upon the plain

of Evesham. The whole air seemed flooded with gore, and the clouds on

the eastern side of the heavens, black and heavy as they were, assumed

a lurid glare, harmonizing with the whole scene, except where part of a

rainbow crossed the expanse, hanging the banner of hope, light, and

peace, in the midst of strife, destruction, and despair.

Such was the scene at the moment when the two armies met in the dire

shock of battle; and fierce and terrible was the encounter, as, soon

broken into separate parties, they fought hand to hand, dispersed over

the plain. In one of these confused groups, leading on a small body of

archers, with Robin Hood by his side, was the young Lord of Monthermer.

"My lord, my lord," said Sir John Hardy, riding up, "your uncle is

down--wounded, but not dead!"

"Bear him from the field, Sir John," replied Hugh. "Robin, I beseech

you, look to him. Bear him from the field--bear him from the field!"

"What, ho! Monthermer!" cried a loud voice, from a party Of spearmen

coining at full speed. "Down with your lance; surrender to the Prince!"

"If the Prince can take me!" replied Hugh, charging his lance at

Edward's shield, and driving his spurs deep into his horse's sides.

"Hold back--hold back!" shouted Edward to his own men. "Hold back,

every one, upon your lives!" and meeting the young lord in full career,

both their lances were shivered in a moment, as if in some mock combat

of the tilt-yard.

Hugh de Monthermer's sword sprang from the sheath in a moment, while

Edward cried--"Yield thee, Hugh--yield thee!" but a number of men on

foot had ran up; and, suddenly, the young knight received a violent

blow from a mallet on the side of his head, while, at the same instant,

his horse, gashed deep in the belly by the broad sword of a

crossbowman, staggered and and fell prone upon the plain. A dozen

spears were at his throat in a moment; but Edward shouted once more, to

stand back; and springing to the ground, he bent over the young knight,

exclaiming, "Now, Hugh, rescue, or no rescue--do you surrender?"

"I have no choice, my lord," replied the other; "I am in your hand."

"Take him to the rear," said Edward; "but use him with all kindness, as

your Prince's friend. Now, my lords," he continued, remounting his

horse, "methinks the field is ours, and there is scarcely light to

strike another blow. Well has the fight been fought, and it is but

justice to our enemies to say, that never was greater valour, conduct,

and chivalry, displayed in any land than by them this day. Some one

said De Montfort is dead. Have the tidings been confirmed?"

"They are certain, my lord," replied one of his attendants. "The Lord

de Vesci, who is taken sorely wounded, saw him die."

"He was a great man," said Edward. "Now spur on and clear the plain;

but be merciful, my friends. Remember, they are brave men and

fellow-countrymen."

Thus speaking the Prince advanced again, and having seen that no party

remained in active contention with his forces, but that all were either

dead, taken, or dispersed, he caused his standard to be pitched upon

the banks of the little rivulet we mentioned, his trumpets to blow the

recal--and thus ended the famous battle of Evesham.