The Prince and the Page | Page 7

I yield, Sir; but spare him, if yet he lives!--O Adam, my only
friend!" he sobbed, as kneeling over him, he raised his head, undid his
collar, and parted the black locks, to seek for the mark of the blow,
whence blood was fast oozing.
"He lives--he will do well enough," said the hunter. "Now, tell me,
boy--what brought you here?"
"The loving fidelity of this man!" was the prompt reply:- "a Poitevin, a
falconer at Kenilworth, who found me sore wounded on the field at
Evesham, and ever since has tended me as never vassal tended lord;

and now--now hath he indeed died for me!" and the boy, endeavouring
to raise the inanimate form, dropped heavy tears on the senseless face.
"True," rigidly spoke the hunter, though there was somewhat of a
quivering of the muscles of the cheek discernible amid the curls of his
chestnut beard: "robbery is not the wonted service demanded of
retainers."
"Poor Adam!" said the youth with a flash of spirit, "at least he never
stripped the peaceful homestead and humble farmer, like the royal
purveyors!"
"Ha--young rebel!" exclaimed the hunter. "Know you what you say?"
"I reck not," replied the boy: "you have slain my father and my brothers,
and now you have slain my last and only friend. Do as you will with
me--only for my mother's sake, let it not be a shameful death; and let
my sister Eleanor have my poor Leonillo. And let me, too, leave this
gold with the priest of Alton, that my true-hearted loving Adam may
have fit burial and masses."
"I tell thee, boy, he is in no more need of a burial than thou or I. I
touched him warily. Here--his face more to the air."
And the stranger bent down, and with his powerful strength lifted the
heavy form of Adam, so that the boy could better support him. Then
taking some wine from the hunting-flask slung to his own shoulder, he
applied some drops to the bruise. The smart produced signs of life, and
the hunter put his flask into the boy's hand, saying, "Give him a draught,
and then--" he put his finger to his own lips, and stood somewhat apart.
Adam opened his eyes, and made some inarticulate murmurs; then, the
liquor being held to his lips, he drank, and with fresh vigour raised
himself.
"The boy!--where is he? What has chanced? Is it you, Sir? Where is the
rogue? Fled, the villain? We shall have the Prince upon us next! I must
after him, and cut his story short! Your hand, Sir!"
"Nay, Adam--your hurt!"
"A broken head! Tush, 'tis naught! Here, your hand! Canst not lend a
hand to help a man up in your own service?" he added testily, as stiff
and dizzy he sat up and tried to rise. "You might have sent an arrow to
stop his traitorous tongue; but there is no help in you!" he added,
provoked at seeing a certain embarrassment about the youth. "Desert
me at this pinch! It is not like his father's son!" and he was sinking back,

when at sight of the hunter he stumbled eagerly to his feet, but only to
stagger against a tree.
"You are my prisoner!" said the calm deep voice.
"Well and good," said Adam surlily. "But let the lad go free: he is a
yeoman's son, who came but to bear me company."
"And learn thy trade? Goodly lessons in falling unawares on the King's
huntsmen, and sending arrows after them! Fair breeding, in sooth!"
repeated the stranger, standing with his arms crossed upon his mighty
breadth of chest, and looking at Adam with a still, grave, commanding
blue eye, that seemed to pierce him and hold him down, as it were, and
a countenance whose youthfulness and perfect regularity of feature did
but enhance its exceeding severity of expression. "You know the meed
of robbery and murder?"
"A halter and a bough," said Adam readily. "Well and good; but I tell
thee that concerns not the boy--since," he added bitterly, "he is too
meek and tender so much as to lift a hand in his own cause! He has
never crossed the laws."
"I understand you, friend," said the hunter: "he is a valued charge-
-maybe the son of one of the traitor barons. Take my advice--yield him
to the King's justice, and secure your own pardon."
"Out, miscreant!" shouted Adam; and was about to spring at him again,
but the powerful arm collared him, and he recognized at once that he
was like a child in that grasp. He ground his teeth with rage and
muttered, "That a fellow with such thews should give such dastardly
counsel, and HE yonder not lift a finger to aid!"
"Wilt follow me," composedly demanded the