The gallant Duke of Somerset was taken prisoner, and there and then was brought to the block in the market-place and beheaded. The cruel Montague had not the true soldier’s respect for a brave enemy, whose blood thus mingled with that of his men. Other nobles were taken as prisoners to Newcastle, but Edward also was devoid of mercy, and all perished. [Illustration: _The Final Battle in the Streets of Hexham_] Till the last moment the queen hoped on. She was not daunted by scenes of strife and bloodshed. When defeat was an accomplished fact, she and her young son fled to the Dipton Woods, where they fell into the hands of rough men, some say a party of Yorkist stragglers. Whilst these men were eagerly dividing and quarrelling over the queen’s jewels, she and the prince slipped away. Deeper into the dangerous woods they had to go, for worse than robbers were hunting for them around Hexham. Suddenly an outlaw stood in their path with drawn sword. Even after that day of stir and terror Margaret’s courage did not fail her. She boldly declared to the man that she was the Queen of England, and with her was her only son. Now, if he chose to betray them he could do so; but if he had that natural nobility that hailed gladly great chances to do great deeds, now was his time to prove himself a man, and to save the ill-fated prince and his queen. The robber bowed before her as though she were on her throne, and as if the trees were her army around her. He swore to die a hundred deaths rather than betray his rightful sovereign and her prince. He honourably kept his word; and through his safe guidance and steady devotion, both queen and prince were able to join King Henry in Scotland, to which place he had safely escaped. Thus the bandit of Hexham proved himself to be a truer man than either Lord Montague, or Warwick, the King-maker, or King Edward IV. of England. *Chapter XV* *Fair Helen of Kirkconnell* Very simple, very touching, is the story of fair Helen of Kirkconnell. This beautiful maiden had two lovers, one rich, one poor. Her friends favoured the rich one, she loved the poor one. She and her chosen lover used to meet secretly in the romantic churchyard of Kirkconnell, by the side of the river Kirtle. Learning this, the rejected lover crept up one evening, with his carbine, to shoot his luckier rival; Helen saw him at the moment of firing, and threw herself forward to receive the shot in her bosom, and so save her lover’s life at the cost of her own. The ballad describing the grief of her lover is one of the most beautiful and touching pieces of poetry in existence, and must be given here entire. *FAIR HELEN* I wish I were where Helen lies; Night and day on me she cries; O that I were where Helen lies, On fair Kirkconnell Lee!