In the Wars of the Roses | Page 3

no inconsiderable matter, and even the field labourers
almost always dwelt within the walls of their lord's house, eating his
bread, and growing old in his service as a matter of course, without
thinking of such a thing as change.
So that although the greater part of the retainers had ridden off at dawn
with the knight and his sons, there were still a good half-dozen stout
fellows ready to escort their lady to the town; and besides these were
many menials of lower grade standing about to see the start. Little Paul,
who had grown up amongst them, ran from one to the other, telling
them excitedly how he was going to see the prince that day, and eagerly
accepting from the hands of his old nurse a beautiful bunch of red roses

which she had gathered that morning, in the hope that her darling might
have the chance to offer them to queen or prince.
Mother and son each wore the red rose broidered upon their state robes,
and the boy had stuck the crimson blossom in his velvet cap. He was a
perfect little picture in his white velvet tunic sloshed with rose colour,
his white cloth hosen laced with gold from ankle to thigh, a short cloak
flowing jauntily from his shoulders, and his bright golden curls flowing
from beneath the crimson and white cap.
No wonder that his stately mother regarded him with looks of fond
pride, or that his old nurse breathed a benediction on his pretty head,
and invoked the saints and the blessed Virgin on his behalf. They little
knew that the gallant child was riding forth to an encounter which
would be fraught for him with strange results; and that the
long-hoped-for meeting with the little prince would be the first step in
one of those passionate attachments which almost always cost the
owner of them dear.
The sun shone hot and bright as the little cavalcade set forth from the
courtyard. The month was that of July, and merry England was looking
its best. The fair landscape lying before the eyes of the riders seemed to
breathe nothing but peace and plenty; and it was hard to think that the
desolating hand of war might, before many years had passed, be
working havoc and ruin over a land so smiling and happy now.
The rich valley in which the ancient city of Lichfield stands looked
peculiarly beautiful and fertile that day. Lady Stukely, whilst replying
to the eager talk of her excited little boy, could not but gaze around her
with admiration, familiar as the scene was to her; and even the boy
seemed struck, for he looked up and said:
"I hope the little prince will be pleased with our town. He will have
seen many fine places on this progress, but I do think we shall give him
the best welcome of all. We all love him so."
It seemed indeed as if the whole country had turned out to welcome the
royal guests; for as the riders drew near to the city walls, they found
themselves in the midst of a crowd of holiday folks, all bent upon the
same object--namely, to take up a good position for witnessing the
royal procession as it passed; and every few minutes some joyous
roisterer would raise a shout, "Long live the king!" "Health to the
queen!" "Down with the false friends--the House of York!" which cries

would be taken up by the multitude, and echoed lustily along the road.
And as the party from Stukely Hall rode up, way being made by the
crowd for persons of quality well known and beloved in those parts,
little Paul vented his excitement in a new cry of his own; for, standing
up in his stirrups and waving his cap in his hand, he cried in his clear
boyish tones:
"Three cheers, good people, for the little prince! Three cheers for
Edward, Prince of Wales, our future king!"
And this cheer was taken up with hearty goodwill by all the crowd;
partly for the sake of the cause ear to the hearts of these loyal people,
partly from admiration for the gallant child who had started it; and Paul
rode on with a flushed and happy face, looking up to his mother and
saying:
"They all love the little prince. Oh how I wish he would come!"
The captain of the little band of soldiers who guarded the gate by which
the royal procession was to enter, came forward doffing his mailed
head piece to greet the wife of the gallant Sir James, who was a notable
gentleman in those parts. By his courtesy the lady and her child were
allowed to take up a position so close to the gate as would insure