Soon after the grand hunting-day I have described, our scout brought word that a party of Sioux were in the neighbourhood. Our fighting-men attacked them and killed several. A scalp-dance took place, and other orgies which I will not describe. I was so horrified with what I saw, that I agreed with Malcolm that we would get back to the settlements as soon as we could. We expressed our wish to Sigenok, and he promised to return with us on the following day. Malcolm's great wish was to withdraw Sigenok from his savage companions, and to induce him to settle down as a civilised man and a Christian. We talked to him on the subject, but he replied, that he had been all his life accustomed to hunting, and fighting, and that he could not abandon them. The next day we set out, leaving the larger body of Indians still encamped.

We had travelled on for two days, when the belief being entertained that we had no enemies to fear, there was less than the usual caution observed by the natives in our march. We were pa.s.sing through a spa.r.s.ely wooded country, I was in advance with Sigenok, while Malcolm and several young Indians, whose interest he wished to excite by descriptions of England and the wonders of the civilised world, brought up the rear, at a considerable distance. Suddenly Sigenok stopped, the crack of a rifle was heard, several others followed. "The Sioux!" he exclaimed, turning round his horse. "Quick! quick! our friends are attacked." No other order was required; keeping close to him we all galloped back the way we had come, getting our rifles ready for action as we proceeded. A terrible antic.i.p.ation of misfortune seized me as I thought of Malcolm, and the fate which might have overtaken him. Still he and his companions might be defending themselves, and we should be in time to rescue them. My heart sunk when the firing ceased. I knew that the Sioux would not have attacked the party unless greatly superior in numbers, and I dreaded that all was over, and that having slaughtered their victims they had retired victorious. Sigenok might have thought the same, for he sent out scouts on either side, and advanced with greater caution than before, though still at a rapid pace. We pulled up at an open glade. Sad was the sight which met our eyes. On every side were strewed the bodies of our companions, all denuded of their scalps.

I almost fell fainting from my horse. I dreaded to find the body of my dear brother among them; still I eagerly hurried on to ascertain his fate. He was not to be found among the slain. My hopes slightly revived. He might have escaped and be concealed somewhere near, or he might have been carried off as a prisoner. My blood ran cold when I thought of this latter possibility, for I had heard of the horrible mode in which the Red men tortured their prisoners, and I dreaded lest such should be the lot of my poor brother. The rage and fury of the Indians at finding that their friends had thus been cut off was terrific, and their threats of vengeance terrible. I had hitherto, till this expedition, seen the Red men only under more favourable aspects. I now perceived what they could become when excited by pa.s.sion. Still the loss of my brother made me anxious that they should immediately undertake an expedition which might result in his recovery. I saw the Indians examining the ground round on every side, and they soon p.r.o.nounced an opinion that the party who had attacked their friends did not equal them in numbers, and would not have succeeded had they not lain in ambush and taken them by surprise. We must have pa.s.sed close to the Sioux, but in consequence of the superiority of our numbers they were afraid to attack us. A council was immediately held; the princ.i.p.al men spoke, and various plans were suggested. The result of them was, that it was determined to form a camp on the spot, while twenty well-mounted warriors should go in pursuit of the Sioux. I entreated Sigenok to allow me to accompany him. "You are young for warfare, but your heart is strong--you shall go," he answered. No time was to be lost. It was of great consequence to follow up the foe so rapidly that they might not be prepared for our approach. A hurried meal was taken, and each warrior furnishing himself with a supply of pemmikon for several days, we immediately set off. Three men, on foot, always kept ahead to act as scouts and to feel the way, while their horses were led by the rest, and when the first were tired others took their places.

The Sioux must have retreated very rapidly, for two whole days pa.s.sed, and though my friends a.s.sured me we were on the right trail, we had not overtaken them. I was almost in despair, and began to doubt that, even if Malcolm was alive, he could be with them. I had just expressed my fears to Sigenok when one of the scouts came hurrying back and exhibited a tag--the end of a boot-lace, such as my brother had worn. This Sigenok considered a sure sign that Malcolm was with them. My eagerness, therefore, increased to overtake them, but the Indians a.s.sured me that great caution was requisite, and that instead of going faster, it might be necessary to go slower. This is often the case I have since found in other affairs of life. More scouts were now sent out and still greater caution used. It was the intention of my companions, if possible, to make the onslaught on the camp of their foes at night. All depended, however, on our approach not being suspected.

The Sioux, of course, would have scouts out, and the difficulty was to avoid their meeting ours, or discovering any traces. At last, just before dusk, one of our scouts brought in word that they had encamped, and that we were about two miles from them. It was suspected, from the way in which they had formed their camp, they must have thought that they had distanced us. We had now no longer any doubt about overtaking them, but the question was as to the best means of making the attack.

The Indians' chief thought was of revenging themselves for the loss of their relatives, my only desire was to recover my brother should he still be alive. We continued to advance till we got within about half a mile of the Sioux camp--the hilly nature of the ground and the woods concealing our approach. Beyond that we dared not proceed, as the country was so open that we might easily have been seen had we made the attempt. The band, accordingly, here left their horses under charge of five of their number, and as soon as it was dusk they commenced their stealthy approach to the camp. Sigenok and another young and active Indian undertook to look after me. Not a word was spoken after we set out--not a leaf was moved, scarcely a blade of gra.s.s was uselessly pressed down. On they crept slowly, and so gently that I could scarcely hear the footfalls even of my two companions. I imitated their way of walking, and as I had on moca.s.sins I also was able to avoid making the slightest noise. We had got within a thousand yards of the camp when we all stopped to listen. The camp was still astir, and there were sounds of feasting and revelry. The Indians with me ground their teeth--their enemies, fancying themselves secure, were about to indulge in a scalp-dance over the scalps they had taken in the morning. As yet the scouts had not got near enough to ascertain if my brother was with them.

I entreated Sigenok to let me go and ascertain. "Not without me," was his answer. "Bah, we will go." I eagerly and fearlessly pressed on.

We had to crawl along the ground lest our figures might be perceived, by the sharp eyes of the Sioux, against the sky. We reached a small stream. The camp was formed a little way beyond it. We waded across it, and creeping up, looked over the bank. In the centre was a fire which, as it blazed up, threw a strange light on the groups of fierce savages cl.u.s.tering round it. At a little distance was a figure which attracted all my attention--it was that of my brother. He was seated on a log of wood, close to which a stake was driven in, and to this his wrists were tightly secured, though his feet were free. His head was bent down; he sat perfectly quiet, as if resigned to his fate. By the gestures of his captors I thought that they were talking about him, and I feared that they were proposing forthwith to put him to death. I dared not ask Sigenok what he thought; the slightest sound might have betrayed us. Oh how I longed to rush forward and join his fate, whatever that might be. I believe that I should have done so when I saw him lift up his pale countenance, so expressive of grief and pain, had not Sigenok held me back. He was, I was sure, thinking of me, and how miserable I should be when he was taken from me, and I was left alone in the world. Sigenok now made a sign to me to retreat; keeping close to him as before, I unwillingly left the spot. We crawled on till we rejoined our companions. It may seem surprising that the Sioux should have been so completely off their guard; but this arose from their despising their foes, the fact being that the Ojibways are generally very unwarlike, and they, therefore, believed that they would not venture to follow them. My companions' plans were soon formed. It was arranged that the whole party should creep forward as we had done, and that each man should single out one of the enemy according to his position, and that at a signal from Sigenok, the low croak of a frog, all should fire at the same moment. With the sound of the first shot the men with the horses were to come galloping on, as if a fresh party were approaching the scene of conflict. As, undoubtedly, all the Sioux would not be killed, some might, otherwise, attempt to rush on their concealed foes, but, with the fear of falling into the hands of their enemies, they would now take to flight. My heart beat quick as we now moved on towards the camp of our treacherous foes. The night was very dark, and so noiseless were the movements of the Indians that, till I actually touched Sigenok's heel, I fancied at one time that I must be alone. The shouting and shrieking of the Sioux as they sang their songs of triumph yet farther a.s.sisted us to approach. In another moment the death volley would be given, and most of those fierce savages would be laid low. My only wish all the time was to rush forward and to release my beloved brother. How breathlessly I waited for the signal! The warriors were moving about, and Sigenok was not yet satisfied, apparently, with the positions which they had taken up. Little did they dream of the danger which threatened them. Sigenok's object was to wait till the Sioux were separated as much as possible, so that there should be no mistake as to which of them should be aimed at by the warriors of our party. After sitting down for some time, they all arose with eager and violent gestures; some went in the direction of the temporary wigwams they had formed, and others advanced towards Malcolm. By their looks and gesticulations I had little doubt that it was with the intention of torturing him. Poor Malcolm lifted up his countenance and gazed with calm resignation at his approaching tormentors. My knees trembled for very anxiety. Just then I heard a low "croak! croak!"

Though warned, I believed that it was really a frog close to me. It was followed by a click as if caused by the c.o.c.king of the rifles. The Sioux one and all started and looked round. Their quick ears had detected the sound. There was another low croak, and at the same instant a rattling volley, and fourteen savages lay stretched on the gra.s.s. The rest rushed in all directions seeking for shelter, but in their alarm, scarcely perceiving whence the volley had proceeded, some darted towards the bank of the stream, where my friends still lay concealed rapidly reloading their rifles. Scarcely had the smoke cleared off than I saw through it a savage darting towards Malcolm with uplifted knife, resolved apparently, before he died, to plunge it in his bosom. I shrieked out, and sprang forward to throw myself between them.

The savage saw me, and was about to vent his rage on my head, but at the moment his gleaming knife was uplifted to strike, a bullet struck him, fired from Sigenok's rifle, and he fell within a foot of me, in vain endeavouring to reach me with his weapon. I sprang to my brother's side, he was unhurt, my knife was busily employed in cutting through the thongs which bound him. More shots were heard as my Ojibway friends caught sight of their Sioux foes endeavouring to escape. A few of the latter had, however, got to some distance and were trying to catch their horses, on which their only hope of safety now depended. The object of the Ojibways was, of course, to prevent them, lest they should carry the news of what had happened to their tribe, who would, in their turn, send off another war party in pursuit of us.

The approach of our horses was now heard. Sigenok with a dozen other men threw themselves on their backs almost without stopping them, and galloped off in hot pursuit of their flying enemies. I stood by the side of my brother, who was too much bewildered to understand what had happened. His first words were, "Harry, dear Harry, tell me is it a dream or a reality. Am I really free?"

"Free, Malcolm, I trust," I answered; "though I might almost ask you the same question; I can scarcely believe my happiness."

"Now I take your hand and hear your voice, I know that it is true," he said eagerly. "And that poor savage who lies so helpless there, I thought he was going to kill me; but I have been mercifully protected; I will tell you all about it by and by. Oh what a dreadful state of existence is this wild life; we will quit it, and return to our quiet home and never leave that. I had often read about savages, and thought them very fine fellows, but little knew what they really are--how bloodthirsty, cruel, murderous. Let us fly, Harry, let us fly at once.

Do not stay here."

I pacified him after a little time, and persuaded him to remain till Sigenok returned. "He, though still a savage, is, at all events, faithful," I observed; "he will not desert us till he has seen us home and safe again with Sam Dawes. I wish that we could wean him altogether from his mode of life, and induce him to become a civilised man."

While Malcolm and I were talking, the rest of the Ojibways had collected, with the exception of those who had gone in pursuit of the Sioux. The fire had sunk low, and I was thankful that the darkness prevented us from watching the horrid task in which they were engaged-- that of scalping their fallen foes. The exclamations they uttered while thus employed, showed the delight they took in the dreadful work. "Our brothers are avenged! our brothers are avenged!" they kept shouting.

"Their mothers, and wives, and children will not mourn alone; there will be grief and wailing also in the lodges of the Sioux. They will no longer be able to boast that they are the great warriors of the plains.

We have conquered them; we have slain them; we have their scalps to show." Nearly an hour thus pa.s.sed; so greatly excited all the time were the savages that they took little notice of us.

At last we heard shouts in the distance, which became louder and louder, till by the light of the fire, which had been renewed, we saw Sigenok and his companions ride into the camp flourishing at the end of their spears the dreadful trophies of their success. But I should not have described those scenes at all, were it not to afford you a true picture of savage life, not as it is painted by romance writers, but as it really is, debased, and wretched, and hopeless. We soon reached the camp and recommenced our return to the settlements as rapidly as we could push on.

Sigenok told us that the Sioux of whom they had gone in chase, had nearly effected their escape, but that he had come up with them as they were attempting to pa.s.s a broad river, and where, from being in the water, not hearing the approach of their foes, he and his companions had shot them all down, so that he believed not one had got off. Still, had one escaped he might prove as dangerous as many, and therefore it might be safer to proceed homeward at once. We urged him to do so, and accordingly without even resting, we at once set out to return to the camp. We reached it in safety; but I will not attempt to describe the scenes which took place, and the savage triumph even of the women; how they shrieked, and shouted, and danced, and clapped their hands till they appeared like so many furies rather than human beings. As a war party of the Sioux would be able to travel much faster than we could, the household goods were at once packed, and we set out on our return homeward. We travelled rapidly, and to guard against surprise we had scouts in the rear constantly on the watch for the approach of a foe.

The conversation of the men all the way related to the events of the expedition, and they evidently gloated over the way in which they had put their enemies to death.

As we proceeded I often turned my head when I heard any noise behind me, expecting to see the enemy darting out of a wood, or scouring over the prairie in chase of us, and at night, while we were encamped, I frequently started up under the belief that the Sioux were upon us.

"All our sufferings, and the dangers we have gone through, and the horrors we have witnessed, have been owing to our folly," observed Malcolm; "had we remained at home, steadily a.s.sisting Sam Dawes to cultivate the farm, we should have escaped them all. We will be wiser in future."

VI.

With great satisfaction, and grat.i.tude for the dangers we had escaped, our eyes once more rested on the silvery waters of the Red River, as it wound its way through the rich plains of the settlement, towards the lengthened expanse of Lake Winnipeg. Malcolm and I, putting our spurs into our mustangs' flanks, galloped on eager to announce our arrival to Sam Dawes. He was labouring by himself, putting up a fence to a new field. He saw us coming, and, throwing down his axe, hurried forward to meet us. Never was there a more happy meeting. He had a great deal to tell us, as we had to tell him. Gathering up his tools, he walked by our sides to the hut; a hut though it was no longer, for by his persevering industry he had converted it into a very comfortable residence; while he had replaced, though in a somewhat rough fashion, nearly all the furniture we had lost. My brother and I felt ashamed at having deserted him for so long, while he was labouring for our benefit.

"Well, dear masters, I did ofttimes feel sad and lonely like while you were away, but now I've got you back safe all that seems as light as a feather," he exclaimed, pressing our hands and looking into our faces with the affection of a parent. He told us that great changes had taken place in the settlement during our absence, that a clergyman had settled near us, that a church was built and a school established, and that many new colonists had bought land along the banks of the river for many miles towards the south as well as to the north of us. The good clergyman had also induced several families of Indians to settle in the neighbourhood, and that they seemed to have accepted with joy the glad tidings of salvation which he had been the means of offering them.

"I wish that Sigenok would come and join them then," exclaimed Malcolm warmly; "so brave and energetic a man would bring many others over to the truth."

The next day Sigenok himself came in to see us. Malcolm opened the subject of which he had been speaking. Sigenok listened attentively, and said that he would go and hear what the missionary had to say. He did so.

The winter set in, and the river and lake were frozen over, and the ground was covered with snow, and sleighs had taken the place of carts, and thick buffalo-skin coats of light dress, and stoves were lighted and windows closed, and the whole face of Nature seemed changed. Sigenok came to us. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "when I knew you first my heart was like the great prairie when the fire has pa.s.sed over it, all black and foul; now it is white like that field of glittering snow on which we gaze. I am a Christian; I look with horror on my past life, and things which I considered before praiseworthy and n.o.ble, I now see to be abominable and vile."

Day after day, in spite of cold and wind and snow, did Sigenok come up to the missionary's house to receive instruction in the new faith which had brought such joy to his heart. Many followed in his footsteps, and there now exists a whole village of Christian Indians in the settlement who have put away and for ever their medicine men and their charms, and their false Manitou, and their cruelties and bloodthirstiness, and are worshippers of the true G.o.d in sincerity and simplicity of faith.

Several of the Indian boys brought up at the school have obtained a considerable amount of learning, and some are ordained ministers of the gospel, and others catechists and schoolmasters at various missionary stations scattered throughout the wide extent of Rupert's Land.

You may like to hear something more about that wonderful land, that _terra ignota_ of British Central America. At the time of which I have been speaking it was supposed that the only fertile land was to be found on the banks of the Red River, but it is now ascertained that an extremely rich and fertile belt extends from the Red River right across the continent, for eight hundred miles or more, to the base of the Rocky Mountains, where it unites with the new province of Columbia. This fertile belt is capable of supporting innumerable herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and droves of horses, and of giving employment and happy homes to millions of the human race. It produces wheat and barley, and oats, and Indian corn, or maize, in great perfection, and potatoes and a variety of other roots and vegetables of all sorts, and the finest gra.s.s for hay, and hemp and tobacco, and many other plants with difficulty grown in England. The rivers are full of fish, and game of all sorts abound. The climate is very uniform throughout, like that of Upper Canada--warm in summer and very cold in winter, but dry and healthy in the extreme.

When, as I hope the case may be before long, those lakes and rivers along which we travelled on our journey from Lake Superior to the Red River are made navigable for steamers, this country will become the great highway to British Columbia, to China, j.a.pan, and the wide-spreading sh.o.r.es and isles of the Pacific. With a line of settlements established across it, the journey may easily be performed, and some day, Harry, you and I will run over, and we will pay a visit to the very scenes which I have been describing to you; but instead of roving savages, murdering and scalping in every direction, living by hunting and fishing, I hope that we may find the Indians settled down as Christian men, and persevering cultivators of the soil which Providence will compel to yield a rich return for their labour. You will wish to know more of your uncle Malcolm's and my proceedings. We soon became acquainted with the good clergyman I have mentioned, and after a time he suggested to us that, as our education was far from perfect, it would be wise if we recommenced our studies. This we did, and though we continued to help Sam Dawes in his farm labours even more efficiently than before, so steady was our application when engaged with our books under our kind tutor, that we made considerable progress in our studies.

For three years or more we lived on very happily, with nothing to change our course of life, when we received notice from England that a relation of our father's especially wished us to return. On consulting our friend the clergyman, he strongly recommended us to accept the invitation offered us. As we expected speedily to return we left Sam Dawes in charge of the farm, though he was almost heart-broken at parting from us. He would, indeed, never have consented to remain had he not believed that it was for our interest to do so. On reaching England great was our surprise to find that our relative intended to leave us his property. On ascertaining our attainments in knowledge, he insisted on our both going to the university. Your uncle Malcolm took high honours, and entered into holy orders. I became, as was our relative, a merchant, and without allowing business to absorb me, I have considerably increased the small portion he left me. Your uncle Malcolm and I have constantly talked of going over to visit Sam Dawes, but circ.u.mstances have prevented us. We long ago made over the farm to him, and he has greatly increased and improved it. He is, we hear, a hale old man. And now, Harry, I have told you a long story enough for to-day. Some other time I will tell you more about the wonders of Rupert's Land.

CHAPTER TWO.

THE SHEPHERD LORD, BY JULIA CORNER, AUTHOR OF THE "HISTORICAL LIBRARY,"

ETCETERA.

It is now about four hundred years since a great feast was held at Skipton Castle, to celebrate the birth of a son and heir to the n.o.ble house of De Clifford. The young lord of the domain had just succeeded to the t.i.tle and vast possessions of his father, Thomas Lord Clifford, who was killed in the battle of Saint Albans, at the beginning of the civil wars between the rival houses of York and Lancaster, and, by his death, his only son John, then not much more than twenty years of age, became lord of the great manor of Skipton in Yorkshire, and of Brougham Castle, with its wide lands, in Westmoreland, besides other castles and estates in different parts of the Northern Counties. A rich and powerful family were the De Cliffords, descended from Richard of Normandy, the uncle of William the Conqueror, and the first Lord Clifford was the father of the lady called Fair Rosamond, who lived in the reign of King Henry the Second, and was so beautiful that it is said in some histories of England that the queen was jealous of her, and obliged her to take poison; but this story is now supposed to be untrue, as there is reason to believe that Fair Rosamond became a nun and died in a convent. The De Cliffords held the Barony of Clifford in Herefordshire, and the extensive manor of Skipton in Yorkshire, when the grandson of Rosamond's father married a rich heiress, who brought him the Barony of Westmoreland, to which Brougham Castle belonged, and after that other lords of the race acquired estates by their marriages, so that the wealth and grandeur of the family had been continually increasing. The wife of the present Lord Clifford, the beautiful and accomplished Lady Margaret, was the only child, consequently the heiress of Henry Bromflete Lord de Vesci, who was also possessed of large estates, one of which was Londesborough in Yorkshire, so that Henry, the hero of this tale, was born heir to great riches and honours, and in his childhood was surrounded with all the magnificence of a royal prince, for his father lived in kingly state, and his mother had her maids of honour, her squires and pages, just like a queen. It was not long after young Henry's birth that Lord Clifford removed his family from Skipton to Brougham Castle, where two more children were born, a boy who was named Richard, and a girl named Elizabeth. These children had their separate nurses and attendants, as was befitting their high station, and Henry's chief nurse, whose name was Maud, was as fond of him as if he had been her own child, for he was a very sweet-tempered, affectionate boy, and he loved her better than any one else in the world, except his parents and his little brother and sister.

Lord Clifford was now very seldom at home, being deeply engaged in the wars, but he came sometimes and stayed for a few days or weeks, as it might be, and on these occasions Henry, as soon as he was old enough, used to dine in the Castle hall, where not less than a hundred knights and gentlemen, besides a great number of pages and domestics of all kinds, sat down to dinner all together every day, for such was the custom of those times in great families. The dinner hour was about noon, or even earlier, when everybody belonging to the establishment a.s.sembled in the hall, where they took their places at the board according to their rank. At the upper end was a table raised above the rest on a dais, for the lord of the castle and his family, with any guests of distinction that might happen to be present, and below this was a long oak table extending from it lengthways down the centre of the hall, in the middle of which stood an enormous salt-cellar, as a sort of boundary between such as were of gentle birth, and those of lower degree; the former sitting above, the latter below the salt. The style of living in those days would appear very uncivilised to us in this more refined age, for the dishes were set on the board without any cloth, and the people ate off wooden or pewter plates, and used their fingers instead of forks, while many of the n.o.bles would have their favourite hounds beside them, and feed them from the table; for, as the floor was always thickly strewed with rushes, they did not mind throwing down pieces of meat to their dogs. However there was always great plenty, and such a banquet was thought very grand then; and the young Henry de Clifford, as being the eldest son, was treated with great homage by all his father's dependents. Often, too, chiefly for his amus.e.m.e.nt, mummers, jugglers, and tumblers were allowed to exhibit their performances in the hall, for he took great delight in such entertainments, and no indulgence, however costly, was thought too great for De Clifford's heir, whose pleasure was studied by every member of the numerous household. It was well for him that his wise and excellent mother taught him not to be too proud of his exalted rank, or haughty in his manners to those of humbler grade, but to be courteous and kind to every one, even to the lowest menial, so as to gain the good-will of all; and, as he was a very docile boy, and moreover believed that n.o.body in the world was so good or so beautiful as his own dear mother, he did not fail to profit by her gentle precepts, and become all that she could wish. Poor boy! he little dreamed then how greatly he would stand in need of a humble spirit, or what a sad reverse of fortune he was destined soon to experience.

His good nurse Maud had left to go to her own home at Skipton, where she married a shepherd belonging to the estate, and after her departure Henry was much more with his mother, who had begun to instruct him in such branches of learning as were considered essential to the education of the young n.o.bility. She taught him to play on the harp and other stringed instruments, to recite verses, sing many of the songs she had herself learned from the minstrels in her father's halls, and, what was of still more importance, she was about to teach him to read, which was not a common accomplishment in those days, for there were no printed books in England till some time afterwards. Printing was then a new invention, and only practised in Germany at one or two of the princ.i.p.al towns, so that the only means of learning to read was from ma.n.u.scripts written by the monks, generally on parchment or vellum, and beautifully illuminated with a border round every page, in brilliant colours intermixed with gold. In every monastery some of the monks were always employed in making copies of the ma.n.u.scripts their libraries contained, and others in illuminating them; but these written books were so expensive that none but very rich people could afford to buy them. Lady Clifford, however, possessed a few of these valuable works, and was intending that her son, who was now in his seventh year, should begin to study them, when a heavy blow fell upon the house of De Clifford; and the n.o.ble youth, who was born to be a great and wealthy lord, was reduced to the humble condition of a shepherd's boy.

Henry was very desirous to know something about the war that kept his father so much from home, and Lady Margaret took great pains to explain to him how it had been occasioned, and why the English people should all be fighting against each other. She told him it was the opinion of many persons that the king, Henry the Sixth, who was then reigning, had no right to the crown, which belonged properly to the Duke of York, who had come over from Ireland and raised an army for the purpose of dethroning the sovereign, and getting himself made king in his stead. She also told him that King Henry, though a very good man, was neither very brave nor very clever, so that he did not take an active part in the war himself, but trusted everything to his queen, Margaret of Anjou, a Frenchwoman, whose bold and daring spirit enabled her to support her husband's cause.

"But which do you think is right, mother?" said Henry.

"It is a difficult question to answer, my child; your father takes the part of the king, or rather of the queen, for the king is now a prisoner in the hands of his enemies. But the claim of the Duke of York is not without foundation, and those who take his part of course believe him to be in the right. But it is a sad thing, my Henry, that a dispute between two princes should cause so much misery and bloodshed as has already been occasioned by this unhappy quarrel, and it may be a long time yet before peace is restored."

"Why do they say my father is for Lancaster and the Red Rose?"

"Because our king's grandfather, Henry the Fourth, was Duke of Lancaster before he became king. He gained the crown by force from his cousin Richard the Second, and although the people consented to have him for their king, and his son Henry the Fifth after him, and now his grandson Henry the Sixth, it does not prove that he had a right to take the crown from Richard."

"And who is this Duke of York, mother? Why do they think he ought to be the king?"

"To make you understand that, Henry, I must go back a little further to the reign of Edward the Third. He, you know, was the father of that good and brave prince Edward, whom we call the Black Prince, and who would have been king if he had not died before his father. The Black Prince had four younger brothers, but he had a son also, who succeeded to the throne at the death of his grandfather. He was the Richard the Second whose crown was taken from him by the Duke of Lancaster, his cousin, who is, therefore, considered a usurper. This Duke of Lancaster was also a grandson of Edward the Third, but his father was one of the younger sons of that king; and the Duke of York, who has now come forward to claim the crown, and stirred up all this terrible strife, is a descendant of one of King Edward's elder sons. Do you understand all this?"

"Yes, I think I do; but I cannot tell which is in the right after all."

"No, my dear boy, I dare say you cannot, neither can I inform you, for there is much to be said on both sides. I do not pretend to judge between them, I can only be grieved to see how much sorrow is caused by the war, and wish that it was ended."

"But you have not told me now, mother, why they say my father is for the Red Rose."

"The Red Rose, Henry, is a badge to distinguish the king's party. The crimson rosette they all wear is meant to represent a red rose. The friends of the Duke of York wear a white one, and from these party signs the war has come to be called the 'War of the Roses.'"

One day, soon after this conversation, it was just before Christmas, the Lady Margaret, who often entered into the diversions of her children, was teaching her two boys to shoot at a target in the gallery above the hall, with a miniature bow and arrows. Some of her maidens were present looking on at the sport, and when either of the boys shot near the mark they clapped their hands in applause, and exclaimed, "In good truth, that was well aimed, my Lord Henry!" or "Bravely done, my Lord Richard!

It went within a hair's breadth." And so they went on laughing and playing for a long while, one or other of the damsels, and sometimes the lady herself, trying their skill, the two boys being highly delighted with the sport, when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the warder's horn, and in another moment the loud, heavy tramp of many horses was heard.

"It is my lord returned!" cried Lady Margaret. "Now, heaven be praised.

Come with me, Henry, to the gate to meet your father; and you, Cicely, bring down Richard. He must not say we are slow to bid him welcome."

The drawbridge had been let down, the castle-gates flung wide open, and in a few minutes the hall was filled with a host of soldiers who had returned with their lord from the wars. The n.o.ble chief responded lovingly to the affectionate greetings of his lady and his boys, then left the hall with them, whilst the seneschal collected all the chief domestics and their servitors to make ready a banquet for the unexpected guests. A sumptuous feast was speedily prepared, and Lord Clifford, with the Lady Margaret and his son Henry, dined in state that day--it was for the last time--in Brougham Castle.

The joy occasioned by his return was but short-lived, for it was quickly known that he was to depart again on the morrow, and much news was told to the inmates of the castle by those who had newly arrived. It appeared that the whole country was in a dreadful state. The king had been made prisoner at the last battle, and the queen was now in the northern counties with her son, the young prince Edward, endeavouring to raise fresh forces. These were hard times for the poor country-people, who suffered greatly from famine, as the soldiers were marching about in all directions, pillaging and destroying wherever they came. Almost every n.o.bleman in England had joined either one side or the other, and many men, who would much rather have stayed at home in peace with their families, to work in the fields, or tend their flocks and herds, were compelled to take up arms at the bidding of their lords; but the peasantry in those days were so dependent on the n.o.bles that every man was obliged to obey the commands of the lord of the land whereon he dwelt, for although the lower orders were not va.s.sals and serfs as they used to be in earlier times, still they were not so free as they are now. Lord Clifford had come home chiefly for the purpose of leaving some of his trusty followers to defend the castle in case it should be attacked, which he thought probable, and as he had taken away all the fighting-men, there had latterly been none left in the castle but such as were too old or infirm to do much service. He therefore appointed a sufficient number to remain as a guard, then prepared to bid adieu once more to his wife and children. Lord Clifford was fierce and cruel in the wars, but he was fondly attached to his own family, and it was perhaps in some measure owing to his strong feelings with regard to domestic ties, united with a natural ferocity of disposition, that made him so unsparing towards his enemies as to obtain the name of "the butcher," by which he is distinguished in history to this very day; for when his father fell at the battle of Saint Albans, he made a vow that he would revenge his death by never showing mercy to a partisan of the house of York, and he kept that vow but too well, as you will presently hear.

The gentle Lady Margaret watched, with a saddened heart and tearful eyes, the hurried preparations for her husband's departure, while Henry and Richard stood near him, gazing with childish admiration on his stately form arrayed in armour of polished steel, over which he wore a tabard, or short coat of crimson velvet, richly embroidered with gold, and under its wide open sleeves the shining armour looked very splendid.