"True," replied Clifford, "but we have opposed to us the men of the Vale of Mowbray, under the Duke of Norfolk, and the stout men-at-arms of Middleham, the followers of Warwick and Salisbury, all Yorkshiremen, not less obstinately brave than those of Craven, to say nothing of the Durham retainers of the Nevilles from Raby. But then we shall have the powerful a.s.sistance of the Percys, with their troops from Topcliffe and Leckonfield and Wressle, so that it must be a fierce and b.l.o.o.d.y contest. I count but little upon the men of the south and the west of England; it will be the valour of the north which shall decide it."

"Indeed, my lord," answered the Prior, "I foresee a long and b.l.o.o.d.y war, when such powerful compet.i.tors are pitted against each other, and I mourn over the thousands of desolated homesteads in Merry England, as it is wont to be called; merry, alas! I fear not, for many a long day to come."

"Have you had any further tidings, sir," inquired the younger Clifford, "of the movements of Richard of York?"

"Nothing," replied his father, "but that he has raised his standard on the borders of Wales, and is marching with his troops upon London, to demand justice upon Somerset; and further, I have received information that Salisbury, Warwick, and Mowbray, are hastening to join him. But we must not waste more time; we must perform a long march before sunset."

A short service was held, and ma.s.s said in the chapel before the leaders, by the Prior, and the head priest of the chapel extemporised a religious service in the courtyard to the soldiers, who stood bareheaded, and listened devoutly. In those days the lower cla.s.ses, however rough and barbarous they might be, implicitly believed what was told them by the priests, without any dogmatic scruples whatever, believing that the shriving of the priest or monk cleared off all old scores of sin, and they might, without compunction, commence a fresh score; the sum and substance of their religion being to serve their feudal lord faithfully, accept the dogmas of the priest, and contribute according to their means to the money-chests of the Church and the monastery.

There was but scant leave-taking; the women of that time were so accustomed to parting with their husbands and sons for the French and Scottish wars, that they looked upon it as a matter of course. Outside the walls was a gathering of the wives, children, and sweethearts of the rank and file, with whom there were some tender leave-takings from those, so many of whom they would never more see, and who, despite their rough exterior, possessed within them hearts beating with affection and tenderness towards the cheerers of their cottage firesides.

The Royalists of Craven made but slow progress as they wended their way southward. It was not until after some ten days' marching along rough roads, entangled woods, the fording of rivers, and tramping through mora.s.ses, that Lord Clifford and the men of Craven found themselves on the borders of Hertfordshire. Here they met with a messenger from the King, with information that Henry and Somerset, with an army, small in number, but composed chiefly of n.o.bles and knights, men of experience and valour, had come forth from London to meet the Yorkists, and would await Lord Clifford's arrival at Watford, bidding him to speed with all haste to that rendezvous. Lord Clifford and his son at this summons spurred on their chargers, leaving the troops to follow. They found the King occupying a house in the small town, and in conference with the Duke of Somerset, who had been nominated by the Queen to the Generalship-in-chief of the forces; they were admitted to the presence at once, and were cordially received by Henry, Lord Clifford being high in his favour. The Yorkshire contingent entered the town soon after, with their banners displayed and trumpets sounding, and pitched their tents alongside those of the King's army. A council of war was called in the evening, and Lord Clifford had the gratification of meeting there his uncle Henry, second Earl of Northumberland, now sixty years of age, King Henry V.

having reversed the attainder of his grandfather, for the Shrewsbury and Bramham affairs, and restored him to the Percy estates and dignities, since which he had won distinction by sharing in the glory of Agincourt. At this council it was determined to march, on the following morning, upon St. Alban's, as it was ascertained from scouts that Richard of York, between whom and Somerset there was bitter enmity, was marching in that direction with an army he had gathered round him at Ludlow, which had been augmented on the road by the contingents of his sympathisers, and was supposed to outnumber the forces ranged under the Lancastrian banner.

The following morning the tents around Watford were struck by daylight; the troops breakfasted, and, with banners flying and trumpets sounding, they commenced their march towards St. Alban's. Sir Philip Wentworth carried the Royal standard; and with the King, as a guard of honour, were Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham, and his son, Earl Stafford; Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland; James Butler, Earl of Wiltshire; Thomas, Lord Clifford; and other n.o.bles of the first rank.

As the army approached St. Alban's, they perceived the uplands in front of them covered with armed men, moving rapidly along towards the old Roman city, in battle array. On seeing this, the Lancastrians halted, set up the Royal standard, with Lord Clifford and his Craven men to guard the barriers. The Duke of Buckingham was sent to demand of the Duke of York why he thus appeared before his Sovereign. Duke Richard replied that he was loyal to the King, sought only for justice upon Somerset, and would at once lay down his arms if he would surrender him to be dealt with according to the laws of the kingdom.

The King, on receiving this message, displayed unwonted spirit, and replied that "he would as soon give up his crown as deliver up either Somerset or the meanest soldier in his camp to the mercy of the Yorkists." This answer was final, and the Red and the White Rose met for the first time in the struggle of battle.

The Lancastrians had the advantage of position, and were so certain of victory that Somerset issued orders that no quarter should be given to the Yorkists, but the latter had firearms of a rude description, which gave them a counter advantage. Clifford, however, kept them at bay bravely, and prevented them from coming to close conflict.

Meanwhile, Warwick, with his northern warriors, entered the town from the other side, and fell upon the King's troops with such vigour that, as Hall says, "the King's army was profligate disposed, and all the chieftains of the field almost slain and brought to confusion." The barriers were at length burst, and York entered the town, and then in the streets were heard the shouts of "A Warwick! a Warwick!" on the other side "A York! a York!" and in the midst the war cries of "King Henry! a Somerset! a Percy! a Clifford!" etc., all intermingled with the clash of swords upon armour and shield; the whir of arrows flying through the air; the groans of wounded and dying men, and the screams of flying women; whilst the market-place was strewn with the bodies of fallen men, and the streets flowed with blood. Shakspeare makes Clifford fall at the hand of the Duke of York. Warwick enters crying--

"Clifford of c.u.mberland, 'tis Warwick calls!

And if thou do'st not hide thee from the bear Now when the angry trumpet sounds alarm And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me!

Proud northern lord, Clifford of c.u.mberland, Warwick is hoa.r.s.e with calling thee to arms."

York, however, interposes, and claims the right of fighting with him.

"_Clifford._--What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause?

_York._--With thy brave bearing I should be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

_Clifford._--Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that 'tis shown ign.o.bly and in treason.

_York._--So let it help me now against thy sword, As I in justice and true right express it!

_Clifford._--My soul and body on the action both!

_York._--A dreadful lay!--address thee instantly.

(_They fight, and Clifford falls._)

_Clifford._--La fin couronne les oeuvres. (_Dies._)

_York._--Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.

Peace with his soul, Heaven, if it be Thy will."

The slaughter of Lord Clifford at the hands of the Duke of York is the keynote to young Clifford's subsequent ruthless hatred of the House of York. Coming up to the body of his father, Shakspeare puts these words into his mouth--

"Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silvery livery of advised age, And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days thus To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight My heart is turn'd to stone; and while 'tis mine It shall be stony. York not our old men spares: No more will I their babes; tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire; And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, Shall, to my flaming wrath, be oil and flax.

Henceforth I will not have to do with pity Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it As wild Medea young Absyrtus did.

In cruelty will I seek out my fame.

Come thou new ruin of old Clifford's house.

(_Taking up the body._) As old aeneas did Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders.

But then aeneas bore a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine."

Although the Lancastrians fought bravely, nothing could withstand the superior number of the Yorkists, combined, as it was, with the military skill and impetuous valour of the Earl of Warwick, and in a short s.p.a.ce of time there lay dead the Duke of Somerset and the Earls of Northumberland and Stafford; and the Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Wiltshire and Ormond grievously wounded. Thus deprived of their chief leaders, the King being a mere cipher, the Lancastrians threw down their weapons and fled, Wentworth flinging down the Royal standard and spurring his horse in the direction of Suffolk. The poor King was captured; but York treated him with great courtesy and kindness, conducted him to St. Alban's Abbey, where they prayed together at the shrine of the martyr, and then went together, victor and vanquished, to London.

The Yorkists were now in the ascendant, but acted with great moderation. There were no executions and no attainders; so Clifford succeeded to the t.i.tle and kept the estates. The King was again attacked by his old malady, and again was Richard of York appointed Protector; but Queen Margaret now began to exhibit her qualities, and to intrigue in politics. She was truly an able and brave woman, but vindictive and rash. She succeeded in ousting York from the Protectorship, and took measures for crushing him effectually; and again the flames of war broke out.

Lord Clifford did not, under these circ.u.mstances, sit at home brooding over his misfortunes and the bitterness of his hatred to the house of York. He was always on the alert, at London or elsewhere, attending on Councils of State or engaged in the field. He fought at Bloreheath, in 1459, and at Northampton, in 1460, on both of which occasions his party suffered a defeat; but Margaret, nothing daunted, raised an army of 18,000 men, and proceeded at their head into Yorkshire, in face of the frosts and snows of the December of 1460. The Duke of York, with a small army of 5,000 men, went from London and threw himself into Sandal Castle, by Wakefield, there to await the arrival of his son Edward, Earl of March, who was mustering forces in the Welsh Marches.

The Queen came with her army upon Wakefield Green, with the Duke of Somerset, son of the slain Duke, in chief command, and Clifford and Wiltshire, son of the Earl who fell at St. Alban's, in command of ambuscades, one on each side. Then, aware of her numerical superiority, she appeared before Sandal, and summoned the Duke to come forth and fight her. "What, are you afraid of encountering an army led by a woman? Cowardly poltroon! can you be fit to wear the crown of England, who shut yourself up in a castle against a woman?" York called a council of war, and was earnestly dissuaded against running the hazard of a battle before the arrival of his son; but, taunted by the jeers of the Queen, he felt that his honour was concerned in fighting at once, despite the numerical odds, and forth he went with his small army, not one-third that of the Queen.

The Duke sallied forth and met Somerset, with a comparatively small force, on Wakefield Green, whom he attacked with great vigour, antic.i.p.ating, with his better-disciplined men, an easy victory; but the ambuscades under Clifford and Wiltshire came out upon his flanks, whilst a contingent of Northern Borderers attacked his rear, and thus, completely surrounded, his small force succ.u.mbed, the White Rose drooped, and the Red, for the first time, was triumphant. This battle brought to an end the ambitious aspirations of Richard of York. He was one of the first to fall, and with him Sir Thomas Neville, Lord Salisbury's son, and Lord Harrington, the husband of Katherine Neville, his daughter. Lord Salisbury himself was wounded, but not sufficiently to prevent his galloping off from the scene. Clifford however, followed in hot pursuit, captured, and sent him to Pontefract Castle, where he was at once beheaded.

Previously, however, to his pursuit of the father, Clifford was guilty of that dastardly act upon his son, the Earl of Rutland, which has stamped his name with infamy, and has given significance to his sobriquet of "Black-faced Clifford." The Duke of York had with him, in Sandal Castle, his family, including the youthful Earl of Rutland.

Boy-like, he must needs go and see the battle, and nothing could dissuade him. "I will go," said he, "and see my father kill the cruel Queen; and when I am a man I will go and fight, and kill his enemies too." "A battle is not a place, Lord Edmund," replied his tutor and chaplain, Sir Robert Aspall, "for boys. A stray arrow might kill you."

"Think not, sir priest," replied the brave boy, "that a son of Richard of York is afraid of an arrow! Stay under shelter of these walls, like craven priest, if you will; I shall go and see the deeds of men who are men!" Seeing that nothing could turn the boy from his purpose, his tutor resolved to go with him to keep him out of harm's way, nothing loth himself to witness the conflict of arms. When the battle was over, and the vanquished flying, Sir Robert led his charge, away towards Sandal. They had not proceeded far, when they encountered a steel-clad warrior on horseback, with blood dropping from his sword.

Perceiving from his apparel that he was a youth of distinction, the warrior dismounted, and, holding his horse by the reins, inquired who he was. "Then," as Hall says, "the young gentleman, dismayed, had not a word to speak, but kneeled on his knees, imploring mercy and desiring grace, both with holding up his hands and making dolorous countenance, for his speech was gone for fear. 'Save him,' said his chaplain, 'for he is a Prince's son, and peradventure may do you good hereafter.' With that word Lord Clifford marked him, and said, 'By G.o.d's blood! thy father slew mine, and so will I do to thee and all thy kin,' and with that word, struck the Earl to the heart with his dagger, and bade the chaplain bear the Earl's mother and brother word what he had done, and said, adding, 'By this act, Lord Clifford was accompted a tyrant and no gentleman.'"

Not satisfied with this cowardly act of vindictiveness, Lord Clifford resolved to carry his vengeful hatred on, by insulting the dead. He returned to the field, now strewn with corpses, sought for, and found that of the Duke of York, and cutting off his head, stuck it upon a lance and carried it, as the most acceptable trophy, to the tent of the Queen, who received it with ill-timed merriment and jest.

She made a paper crown and placed it on the head, with an inscription--"This is he who would have been King of England," and gave directions for it to be conveyed, along with that of Salisbury, to York, and placed over one of the gates, adding, "Leave room for the head of my Lord of Warwick, for it shall soon bear them company!"

Queen Margaret, flushed with her victory, marched towards London, but met with the Earl of Warwick, in February, 1461, at St. Alban's, and there defeated him, after which the poor captive King was released and brought to his Queen in Lord Clifford's tent. But Edward, the quondam Earl of March, now Duke of York, had come up and joined Warwick, who, together, entered London and were welcomed by the citizens, who favoured the house of York. Margaret, fearing to meet their united forces, returned northward, her strongholds and most devoted friends being in the northern counties, especially on the Scottish borders, whither she was followed by Duke Edward. She had come to York, and lay there with 60,000 men, when she heard that York and Warwick had reached Pontefract with an army of 40,000 men. Anxious to prevent the pa.s.sage of the Aire by the enemy, she moved to Towton, some eight miles off York, and there was fought the memorable and decisive battle which placed the crown on the head of Edward IV. The Lancastrians had seized Ferrybridge under Lord Fitzwalter, and Clifford, as courageous as he was cruel, undertook to dislodge him, which he accomplished. But Lord Falconbridge crossed the Aire three miles higher, at Castleford, and attacked Clifford in the flank with a superior force. Clifford fled towards the Queen's camp, and when he arrived at Dittingdale, two miles off Towton, feeling thirsty after his exertions, he removed his gorget and stooped to drink at a streamlet, when an arrow struck him in the throat, and the murderer of Rutland and insulter of the dead Richard of York fell to rise no more.

The Shepherd Lord.

For ever memorable in the annals of England will be Palm Sunday in the year 1461, and equally so the little hamlet of Towton, by Tadcaster.

There and then was fought, in a blinding snowstorm, what Camden calls "the English Pharsalia," the greatest battle hitherto fought on English soil, where Englishman met Englishman, and kinsman kinsman, in deadly conflict, and in which quarter was neither asked nor given. The conflict lasted ten hours, and the pursuit of the fugitives was continued until the middle of Monday. 60,000 Lancastrians were met by 40,000 Yorkists, and 36,000 corpses and dying men lay that Sunday night on the snow of the fields, roads, and hillsides, whilst the river and streamlets ran with torrents of blood, and the snow became encrimsoned as it fell. The fight inclined in favour of the Red Rose, under the command of the Duke of Somerset, although York and Warwick performed prodigies of valour with their smaller forces, and the day must have gone against the White Rose, when, towards evening, the banner of the Mowbrays was seen approaching, and the Duke of Norfolk came up with a body of fresh troops, who made a vigorous attack on the Lancastrians, which at once turned the scale, and changed what seemed to be a defeat into a decisive victory, which was virtually the deposition of Henry VI., and the elevation of Edward IV. to the throne--a transference of the crown from the House of Lancaster to that of York.

The shades of evening were falling over the forest lands around Skipton, some week or ten days after the battle. The surrounding hills were covered with snow, and a fierce wind raged round the towers of the castle, whilst the boughs of the trees crashed against each other, and ever and anon a huge branch, reft from the parent stem, was flung with fury to the earth.

Within the castle, in a room overlooking the courtyard, sat the Lady Clifford, with her young children, two or three female attendants, and the chaplain of the household. It was very unlike a modern drawing-room, and, in these Sybarite days, would be looked upon as a very comfortless apartment; yet was it a fair specimen of the drawing-room of the period. Instead of Axminster or Aubusson carpets, the floors were strewn with rushes; instead of oil paintings from the hands of eminent masters, the walls were hung with tapestries of Arras, more to cover the rough nakedness of the stonework and exclude draughts than for aesthetic purposes; the furniture of the room consisted of a table, two or three chairs, and a few stools of rough carpentry, not in mahogany or rosewood, but of the native oak, hewn out of the woodlands of the demesne. On the hearthstone blazed a fire of wood, sputtering as the sleet fell into it down the wide open chimney. There was no grate, fender, or fire-irons, but beside the hearth lay a heap of fresh wood, to be thrown on the fire as required; and when the embers required stirring, a stick from the heap was used for that purpose.

Lady Clifford sat in silence, brooding in thought over her absent husband, with an occasional heavy-drawn sigh; the children were gambolling about the room in innocent unconsciousness of the perils to which their father was exposed; the chaplain joined in their romps, and amused them by telling them tales of Fairyland and the good deeds of holy saints; and the handmaidens were sitting apart, plying their distaffs and spinning-wheels, and indulging in the usual gossip of an isolated castle and the surrounding village, but maintained it in an undertone, so as not to disturb the meditations of their lady.

"What a fearful night it is," said Lady Clifford, as a terrific gust of wind came roaring round the towers of the castle, seeming almost to shake them to their foundations, stoutly as they were built. "It is terrible even here, sitting as we are under the protection of these strong walls; what must it be to those who are exposed to its fury, camped, perchance, on some wild moor, and surrounded by enemies?"

At this moment a trumpet summons for admittance to the castle was heard; and presently the seneschal entered the room, stating that a knight was without the gate with tidings of great importance.

"Who is he?" asked Lady Clifford. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, my lady, he is Sir John de Barnoldswick, who accompanied my lord, and I fear me he brings intelligence of evil import."