Cressy and Poictiers. Edgar John George

on my chances of success. Nor, stranger as I was, did I meet with a discouraging reception. At first, indeed, my rustic garments evoked remarks not highly complimentary. But a closer examination disarmed prejudice; and my firm seat, my equestrian skill, and something of juvenile audacity with which I handled my blunt lance, created such an impression in my favour, that the crowd raised an inciting cheer; and the prince, turning to Roger, Lord De Ov, a young baron of high rank, who rode by his side, exclaimed —

      "A strong and handsome stripling, and one likely to acquit himself with honour, here and elsewhere."

      "A likely lad is Arthur," muttered Thomelin of Winchester to my grandsire; "and, in the prince's presence, will do credit to his bringing up."

      Nor did mine host of the Falcon speak without prescience. Managing my steed with perfect facility, and displaying with my weapon a familiarity that had not characterised the Londoners who had preceded me, I spurred towards the quintain, struck the shield fairly, and, ere the spindle could revolve, retreated with seeming ease amid shouts of applause. Three times I repeated the attempt, and on each occasion performed the feat with such success, that the crowd shouted louder and louder in compliment to my skill.

      "Gallantly and dexterously done," said the prince, as, flushed with exertion and excitement, I was brought to the presence of the mayor, and uncovered my head.

      I bowed low to the compliment so sincerely expressed.

      "Thy name, youth?" said the prince.

      "My lord," I answered, "my name is Arthur."

      "And your surname?" continued the prince.

      "I have no surname, my lord," replied I; "but since I won the ram at the wrestling match at Windsor, on May Day, men have called me Arthur Winram."

      "Arthur Winram," said the prince, smiling. "Beshrew me! it sounds well, and is a name that a ballad-maker would deem worthy to put in verse. However," continued he, "I trust you will live to make yourself a name worthy of your skill. Meanwhile," he added, "carry with you this comfort, that your performance to-day has been marked and appreciated by your king's son."

      "Ha! my lord," interposed the Lord De Ov, "this hardly beseems you. We have already tarried here long enough. Why waste words on this young rustic? Let us ride;" and he laid his hand on the prince's rein.

      "Roger De Ov, you forget yourself," said the prince haughtily, as he was led off, after exchanging courtesies with the mayor; while I, having watched his departure with a flashing eye, turned to my grandsire, whose brow was bent darkly and sternly.

      "Grandsire," asked I, my heart swelling with rage and mortification, "who is that man?"

      "What matters it, Arthur, my lad?" answered my grandsire, recovering with a start. "Be calm and be silent, and thine hour will come. Patience is a good palfrey, and will carry thee through many a day's journey."

      "I could feel it in my heart to follow the miscreant, and strike him, even in the prince's presence," said I.

      "And ruin yourself for ever. Nay, nay. Better let us carry the peacock you have won to the Falcon, and drink a cup with Thomelin, my cousin, ere we mount and ride homeward."

      "Ay," said Thomelin; "let us to the Falcon."

      And we went.

      CHAPTER IV

      AT MY GRANDSIRE'S HOMESTEAD

      My grandsire's homestead, as I have already intimated, stood on the outskirts of the royal forest of Windsor. It was a humble enough tenement, but not without its comforts, and it occupied a fair spot of ground, shadowed by ancient trees, and surrounded by green sward stretching away into meadows by the river side, where flowers grew and kine grazed, and young maidens sat tending their fathers' flocks and singing the ballads of their country.

      Nobody could deny that the place was fair to look upon and pleasant to dwell in; and my grandsire, save when in his gloomy moods, was in the habit, not only of saying that such was the case, but of expressing contentment with his lot. In this respect I was certainly far from sharing his sentiments; and every day I experienced a stronger desire to escape from an obscurity which was ill suited to my aspiring nature.

      My existence was surrounded with a mystery which I in vain endeavoured to penetrate. Of my father I had no recollection, and little knowledge. I was given to understand that he ceased to live when I was an infant in the cradle, and that, during the troubles which distracted England at the opening of King Edward's reign, he perished under cruel, and somewhat ignominious, circumstances. But I suspected much more than had ever been told me. In fact, from vague hints and allusions, I gathered sufficient to inspire me with the conviction that his tragic fate, though its immediate cause was a political conspiracy, was, in reality, the result of enmity engendered by a political family feud. That my mother, a sad, religious, and broken-hearted woman, showed much anxiety to keep me in ignorance of the facts was evident; and I was given to understand that my safety – even my life – depended on my name and origin remaining a profound secret.

      I have, however, hinted that my imagination was lively; and, as it was frequently at work on the subject, I was soon led by it to the conclusion that I was of different flesh and blood from those among whom my lot had been cast; that my father was, at least, a man of knightly rank; and that I was, probably, the heir of a pedigree which a Montacute or a Merley might have envied. My pride, stimulated by my imagination, became daily higher; and, buoyed up with some knowledge of grammar and letters acquired from the tuition of a neighbouring priest, I early cherished ideas far above my station, and dreamt of chances and possibilities that might raise my fortunes to a level with my aspirations.

      Either by accident or design, my grandsire fed my ambition by the kind of conversation in which he indulged, on winter evenings, by the blazing fire of wood that warmed our little hall. Plain yeoman as the old man seemed, he had been a good deal in the world; and he knew much of its ways. In youth he had, as a warrior, served King Edward – the first of the name – and he delighted to tell of the battles and the sieges to which he had ridden under the banner of that mighty monarch. Fired by the countless stories of war and victory, I conceived an irresistible desire to excel in arms; and, ere reaching my fourteenth year, I began to despise the sports and athletic exercises of the young peasants and villagers who deemed themselves my equals, and to endeavour, as well as I could, to acquire accomplishments which qualified youths of gentle blood for knighthood and the honours of chivalry.

      My success was greater than might have been anticipated, under the circumstances. Excluded from the training bestowed in feudal castles on the sons of nobles and knights, my disadvantages were obvious. But patience and perseverance always will do much; and I set myself deliberately to acquire skill and dexterity in the use of the sword, and riding at the ring and the quintain; and, with instructions from my grandsire, I soon found my patience and perseverance rewarded. At the exercise of quintain, especially, I was so perfect a performer, in my own opinion, that I was all eagerness for an opportunity of proving my superiority. When, therefore, I learned that, on the day of St. John the Baptist, the Londoners of my own age, or thereabouts, were to compete for the peacock, in the presence of the Prince of Wales, I insisted on my grandsire conducting me to the capital, that I might display my proficiency in public, and that I might advance my fortune by exhibiting, under the eye of England's heir, the skill and dexterity which I had acquired by constant exercise among the trees that shadowed our quiet grange.

      Naturally enough, the result was flattering to my juvenile vanity; and the events of the day on which I won the peacock made a strong impression on my mind. It opened up to me views of life with which I was previously quite unacquainted, and quickened my desire to begin my career in earnest. My life of obscurity became more and more distasteful. Even the lot of forest outlaws seemed infinitely preferable to mine; and while I essayed to look cheerful as I drove out the cows to the meadows, and talked to the hinds as they gathered the harvest into the barns, I was bitterly cursing the Lord De Ov for cutting short my interview with the prince, and, in melancholy mood, tasking my ingenuity to discover some way of again bringing myself under his notice.

      At this season, Thomelin of Winchester happened to visit our homestead, and was welcomed with the hospitality due to a friend and kinsman.

      "And what news