In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the YoungEverett-Green, Evelyn
History
In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young
Everett-Green, Evelyn
Great Britain -- History -- Wars of the Roses, 1455-1485 -- Juvenile fiction
E-text prepared by Martin Robb
IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES
A Story for the Young
by
Everett Evelyn-Green.
1901
CONTENTS
Prologue.
Chapter 1: A Brush with the Robbers.
Chapter 2: A Hospitable Shelter.
Chapter 3: A Strange Encounter.
Chapter 4: Paul's Kinsman.
Chapter 5: In Peril.
Chapter 6: In The Hands of the Robbers.
Chapter 7: The Protection of the Protected.
Chapter 8: The Rally of the Red Rose.
Chapter 9: The Tragedy of Tewkesbury.
Chapter 10: The Prince Avenged.
Notes.
Prologue.
"Mother, will the little prince be there?"
"Yes, my son. He never leaves his mother's side. You will see them
all today, if fortune favours us--the good King Henry, his noble
queen, to whom he owes so much, and the little prince likewise. We
will to horse anon, that we may gain a good view of the procession
as it passes. The royal party lodges this night at our good
bishop's palace. Perchance they will linger over the Sunday, and
hear mass in our fair cathedral, Our loyal folks of Lichfield are
burning to show their love by a goodly show of welcome; and it is
said that his majesty takes pleasure in silvan sports and such-like
simple pleasures, many preparations for the which have been
prepared for him to witness."
"O mother, I know. Ralph and Godfrey have been practising
themselves this many a day in tilting and wrestling, and in the use
of the longbow and quarterstaff, that they may hold their own in
the sports on the green before the palace, which they say the king
will deign to watch.
"O mother; why am I not as old and as strong as they? I asked Ralph
to let me shoot with his bow; but he only laughed at me, and bade
me wait till I was as tall and as strong as he. It is very hard to
be the youngest--and so much the youngest, too."
The mother smiled as she passed her hand over the floating curls of
the gallant boy beside her; He was indeed a child of whom any
mother might be proud: beautiful, straight-limbed, active, and
fearless, his blue eyes glowing and shining, his cheek flushed with
excitement, every look and gesture seeming to speak of the bold
soldier spirit that burned within.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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