Evelyn Everett-Green - A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

"I love to tend thee, brother mine," whispered Alys, as she bent over him and kissed his brow, and then tripped lightly back to her frame; for idleness was not permitted to the daughter of the Constable, and her mother required a daily portion of work from those skilful fingers.

This conversation took place in a pleasant upper chamber belonging to one of the many solid buildings enclosed within the walls of what was known as the Castle of Oxford.

There were several buildings within these circling walls – the College and Chapel of St. George, the Constable's quarters, and certain strong towers that were often used as prisons for unruly clerks and scholars. The Chancellor himself, although exercising a wide jurisdiction over the liberties of the members of the University, had no place of durance in which to place offenders, so that they were most often brought into the Castle and lodged there.

Sir Humphrey de Kynaston had not occupied the position of Constable very long, and so far he and the Chancellor had been excellent friends. They were both anxious to maintain the peace of the city, and were agreed to act in concert, instead of in rivalry, as had sometimes been the case between former Governors of Castle and University.

Sir Humphrey had only two children, a boy and a girl. Edmund had always been famed for his daring spirit and sunny temperament, and during his boyhood had been the pride and joy of his father's heart. Two years ago, however, he had received what appeared at the time to be a fatal injury during a boar-hunt in the New Forest, where he was staying with his mother's kinsfolks. The boar had turned to bay, and when some daring huntsman, together with Edmund's uncle, approached to try to give the final blow, the maddened creature sprang at them with such fury that both fell before him, and all thought their lives must pay the forfeit. But Edmund had seized a strong spear, and had made so sudden and fierce a rush that the beast was borne back for a moment, giving the two time to gain their feet once again. When they turned to slay their quarry, however, they found that he had inflicted a terrible wound upon Edmund with his great tusks. The boy was carried home in what was thought to be a dying state, and although his fine constitution had enabled him to pull through the long and dangerous illness, he had remained permanently crippled, unable to do more than trail himself painfully from room to room, or occasionally in warm weather to take a little very gentle exercise on the back of a quiet and well-trained horse, which would be content to pace sedately without prancing or curvetting.

Since that day it had been the chiefest happiness of Alys's life to wait upon her brother, soothe his hours of suffering, which were many, and share with him every simple joy and interest in life. Brother and sister had both been greatly pleased to join their father at the Castle here, and were ready to take a keen interest in all that went on at this seat of learning.

Edmund had been fired with the desire to excel now in learning as he had once excelled in feats of skill and strength. Their father had promised to find for them a tutor with whom they might study; and perhaps some youthful clerk to read to them out of such books as were then obtainable, that they might progress the faster in their studies.

But the present excitement occasioned by the Parliament assembled in the city had for the moment driven everything else out of the minds of those dwelling there, and Sir Humphrey had his hands and mind and house alike full.

The Parliament was sitting in the vacated quarters of the Black Friars in the Jewry. The largest of their buildings there had been hastily fitted up as a Council chamber; and the King and Barons met in daily conclave to discuss the situation, and agree upon some definite plan for the future.

The great De Montfort, who had been accustomed to rough it under all sorts of climates and in all sorts of conditions, would have been content to take up his own quarters at the inn in the town, had not Sir Humphrey insisted that he and his sons should be his guests at the Castle, leaving only the retinue at Dagville's Inn.

Thus it came about that, whilst the Earl and his two elder sons went daily to the meeting-place in the Jewry, the younger sons, Guy and Amalric, were left pretty much to their own devices, and spent their time for the most part either in wandering about the town and learning what they could as to the life there, or with the fair Alys and her brother in this pleasant, airy chamber.

The room was itself very attractive, for it was adorned with tapestry hangings which Alys's skilful fingers had wrought, and upon the stone floor lay the dressed skins of many a wild creature of the woods which Edmund had slain ere he had been laid low. Several stuffed birds and small beasts were to be seen set upon the brackets which Edmund carved in his hours of ease; and a tame falcon upon a perch occupied a little recess, and when released from his chain would fly about the room or perch affectionately on the hand of the master he loved. A great wolf-hound also was generally to be found lying at full length beside his master's couch. He had been Edmund's most faithful follower almost from boyhood, and was now growing old and a little infirm. Therefore his master's ways were little trouble to him, and save when he paced backwards and forwards in the courtyard with his mistress, he seldom cared to move from beside Edmund's couch.

Both Guy and Amalric de Montfort had grown fond of this upper chamber and its inhabitants, and came and went almost at will. Edmund had been keenly interested in all that these lads could tell him of their father's campaigns, and of the battle for constitutional liberty which he was so strenuously fighting now. Edmund knew that his own father was strongly in sympathy with the action that the Barons were now taking, and he listened eagerly to any items of information which he could pick up. But whilst the Parliament was sitting, little was said as to the course the deliberations were taking. There were whispers of stormy scenes, and of outbreaks of fierce and rather impotent anger on the part of the King; but for the most part a discreet silence was observed as to the probable result of the deliberations, though from the King's increasing irritability and fits of gloom it was surmised that he was not best pleased at the course things were taking.

The talk between the De Kynastons and Amalric de Montfort on this particular day was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Guy, who came in eagerly and joyously.

"I have a plan!" he cried. "I was wandering down hard by the Grandpont, when I saw a man in a right comely wherry, and he was pleased to hire it to me for a few pence. He says that it will carry a party well, and that if we lift it over the fall by Iffley Church, we can navigate a great stretch of the river, or if we better like we can go up against the current. Methought thou mightest well go with us, Edmund, for thou canst ride down to the river-bank, and then the boat will carry thee bravely, and we can take with us that bear's skin and make a couch for thee along the bottom."

Alys clapped her hands in delight at the thought. Somehow it had never occurred to them that the river might open up a new source of amusement for the invalid.

Quickly was the matter settled. Dame Kynaston, though rather a martinet in her household, as a managing housewife in those days had some need to be, was a loving mother also, and was only too glad to forward any plan whereby Edmund might benefit in health or spirits. Very soon the little party was on its way to the wherry lying by the bridge, eagerly planning the day's pleasuring, and finally settling that the navigation of the Cherwell would afford the most amusement and novelty.

"What is yon tower hard by the bridge?" asked Amalric of Alys, by whose side he was walking, a little in advance of the other pair.