The Herd Boy and His HermitYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Herd Boy and His Hermit
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Clifford, Henry de Clifford, 14th lord, 1455?-1523 -- Fiction; Henry VI, King of England, 1421-1471 -- Fiction
‘Ay, ay, lad, more’s the pity that he is more saint than king! If my
lady guessed aught, she would be loyal as became your father’s wife, and
methinks she would not press you hard for fear she should be forced to
be aware of the truth.’
‘But Sir Lancelot?’
‘As far as I can gather,’ explained Simon, ‘Sir Lancelot is one that
hath kept well with both sides, and so is able to be a protector. But
down came orders from York and his crew that King Harry is reported to
be lurking in some of these moors, and the Countess Clifford being his
wife, he fell under suspicion of harbouring him. Nay, there was some
perilous talk in his own household, so that, as I understand the matter,
he saw the need of being able to show that he knew nothing; or, if he
found that the King was living within these lands, of sending him a
warning ere avowing that he had been there. So I read what was said to
me.’
‘He knew nothing from me! Neither he nor my lady mother,’ eagerly said
Hal. ‘When I mind me I am sure my mother cut me short when I described
the hermit too closely, lest no doubt she should guess who he was.’
‘Belike! It would be like my lady, who is a loyal Lancastrian at heart,
though much bent on not offending her husband lest his protection should
be withdrawn from you.’
‘Better--O, a thousand times better!--he gave me up than the King!’
‘Hush! What good would that do? A boy like you? Unless they took you
in hand to make you a traitor, and offered you your lands if you would
swear allegiance to King Edward, as he calls himself.’
‘Never, though I were cut into quarters!’ averred Hal, with a fierce
gesture, clasping his staff. ‘But the King? Where and what have they
done with him?’
‘Best not to know, my lord,’ said Simon. ‘In sooth, I myself do not know
whither he is gone, only that he is with friends.’
‘But who--what were they? They looked like outlaws!’
‘So they were; many a good fellow is of Robin of Redesdale’s train.
There are scores of them haunting the fells and woods, all Red Rose men,
keeping a watch on the King,’ replied Simon. ‘We had made up our minds
that he had been long enough in one place, and that he must have taken
shelter the winter through, when I got notice of these notions of Sir
Lancelot, and forthwith sent word to them to have him away before worse
came of it.’
‘Oh! why did you not let me go with him? I would have saved him, waited
on him, fought for him.’
‘Fine fighting--when there’s no getting you to handle a lance, except
as if you wanted to drive a puddock with a reed! Though you have been
better of late, little as your hermit seemed the man to teach you.’
‘He said it was right and became a man! Would I were with him! He, my
true King! Let me go to him when you know where, good Simon. I, that am
his true and loving liegeman, should be with him.’
‘Ay! when you are a man to keep his head and your own.’
‘But I could wait on him.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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