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fond of drawing an arrow at a buck does not make them one whit the worse

Christians. I will do my best to move their hearts, and if they will but

agree together to take the cross, they would make a goodly band of

footmen to accompany the earl."

"Is the earl going?" Cuthbert asked eagerly.

"I know not for certain," said Father Francis; "but I think from what I

hear from his chaplain, Father Eustace, that his mind turns in that

direction."

"Then, Father, if he goes, I will go too," Cuthbert exclaimed. "He

promised to take me as his page the first time he went to war."

Father Francis shook his head.

"I fear me, Cuthbert, this is far from the spirit in which we a while ago

agreed that men should go to the holy war."

Cuthbert hung his head a little.

"Ay, Father Francis, men; but I am a boy," he said, "and after all, boys

are fond of adventure for adventure's sake. However, Father," he said,

with a smile, "no doubt your eloquence on the green will turn me mightily

to the project, for you must allow that the story you have told me this

morning is not such as to create any very strong yearning in one's mind

to follow the millions of men who have perished in the Holy Land."

"Go to," said Father Francis, smiling, "thou art a pert varlet. I will do

my best on Sunday to turn you to a better frame of mind."

CHAPTER V.

PREPARATIONS.

Next Sunday a large number of people from some miles round were gathered

on the green at Evesham, to hear Father Francis preach on the holy

sepulchre. The forest men in their green jerkins mingled with the crowd,

and a look of attention and seriousness was on the faces of all, for the

news of the loss of the holy sepulchre had really exercised a great

effect upon the minds of the people in England as elsewhere.

Those were the days of pilgrimage to holy places, when the belief in the

sanctity of places and things was overwhelming, and when men believed

that a journey to the holy shrines was sufficient to procure for them a

pardon for all their misdeeds. The very word "infidel" in those days was

full of horror, and the thought that the holy places of the Christians

were in the hands of Moslems, affected all Christians throughout Europe

with a feeling of shame as well as of grief.

Among the crowd were many of the Norman retainers from the castle and

from many of the holds around, and several knights with the ladies of

their family stood a little apart from the edge of the gathering; for it

was known that Father Francis would not be alone, but that he would be

accompanied by a holy friar who had returned from the East, and who could

tell of the cruelties which the Christians had suffered at the hands of

the Saracens.

Father Francis, at ordinary times a tranquil preacher, was moved beyond

himself by the theme on which he was holding forth. He did not attempt

to hide from those who stood around that the task to be undertaken was

one of grievous peril and trial; that disease and heat, hunger and

thirst, must be dared, as well as the sword of the infidel. But he

spoke of the grand nature of the work, of the humiliation to Christians

of the desecration of the shrines, and of the glory which awaited those

who joined the crusade, whether they lived or whether they died in the

Holy Land.

His words had a strong effect upon the simple people who listened to him,

but the feelings so aroused were as nought to the enthusiasm which

greeted the address of the friar.

Meagre and pale, with a worn, anxious face as one who had suffered much,

the friar, holding aloft two pieces of wood from the Mount of Olives tied

together in the form of a cross, harangued the crowd. His words poured

forth in a fiery stream, kindling the hearts, and stirring at once the

devotion and the anger of his listeners.

He told of the holy places, he spoke of the scenes of Holy Writ, which

had there been enacted; and then he depicted the men who had died for

them. He told of the knights and men-at-arms, each of whom proved himself

again and again a match for a score of infidels. He spoke of the holy

women, who, fearlessly and bravely, as the knights themselves, had borne

their share in the horrors of the siege and in the terrible times which

had preceded it.

He told them that this misfortune had befallen Christianity because of

the lukewarmness which had come upon them.

"What profited it," he asked, "if the few knights who remained to defend

the holy sepulchre were heroes? A few heroes cannot withstand an army. If

Christendom after making a mighty effort to capture the holy sepulchre

had not fallen away, the conquest which had been made with so vast an

expenditure of blood would not have been lost. This is a work in which no

mere passing fervour will avail; bravery at first, endurance afterwards,

are needed. Many men must determine not only to assist to wrest the holy

sepulchre from the hands of the infidels, but to give their lives, so

long as they might last, to retaining it. It is scarce to be expected

that men with wives and families will take a view like this, indeed it is

not to be desired. But there are single men, men of no ties, who can

devote their whole lives, as did the Knights of the Orders of the Cross,

to this great object. When their life has come to an end, doubtless

others will take up the banner that their hands can no longer hold. But

for life it is, indeed, that many of humble as well as of princely class

must bind themselves to take and defend to death the holy sepulchre."

So, gradually raising the tone of his speech, the friar proceeded;

until at length by his intense earnestness, his wild gesticulations,

his impassioned words, he drew the whole of his listeners along with

him; and when he ceased, a mighty shout of "To the Holy Land!" burst

from his hearers.

Falling upon their knees, the crowd begged of him to give them the sign

of the cross, and to bestow his blessing upon their swords, and upon

their efforts.

Father Francis had prepared, in contemplation of such a movement, a large

number of small white crosses of cloth. These he and the friar now

fastened to the shoulders of the men as they crowded up to receive it,

holding their hands aloft, kissing the cross that the Friar extended to

them, and swearing to give their lives, if need be, to rescue the holy

shrines from the infidel.

When all had received the holy symbol, Father Francis again ascended the

bank from which they had addressed the crowd:

"Now go to your homes, my sons," he said. "Think of the oath that you

have taken, and of the course that lies open to you when the time comes.

When King Richard is prepared to start, then will you be called upon to

fulfil your vows. It may be that all who have sworn may not be called

upon to go. It needs that the land here should be tilled, it needs that

there should be protectors for the women and children, it needs that this

England of ours should flourish, and we cannot give all her sons, however

willing they might be to take the cross. But the willingness which you

will, I am sure, show to go if needs be, and to redeem your vows, will be

sufficient. Some must go and some must stay; these are matters to be

decided hereafter; for the time let us separate; you will hear when the

hour for action arrives."

A fortnight later the Earl of Evesham, who had been on a long journey to

London, returned with full authority to raise and organize a force as his

contingent to the holy wars.

All was now bustle and activity in the castle.

Father Francis informed him of the willingness of such of the forest men

as he deemed fit to enlist under his banner; and the earl was much

gratified at finding that the ranks of heavily-armed retainers whom he

would take with him, were to be swollen by the addition of so useful a

contingent as that of 100 skilful archers.

Cuthbert was not long in asking for an interview with the earl.

He had indeed great difficulty in persuading Dame Editha that he was old

enough to share in the fatigues of so great an expedition, but he had

Father Francis on his side; and between the influence of her confessor,

and the importunities of her son, the opposition of the good lady fell to

the ground.

Cuthbert was already, for his age, well trained to arms. Many of the old

soldiers at the castle who had known and loved his father, had been ever

ready to give lessons in the use of arms to Cuthbert, who was

enthusiastic in his desire to prove as good a knight as his father had

been. His friends, the outlaws, had taught him the use of the bow and of

the quarter-staff; and Cuthbert, strong and well-built for his age, and

having little to do save to wield the sword and the bow, had attained a

very considerable amount of skill with each.

He had too, which was unusual, a certain amount of book learning,

although this, true to say, had not been acquired so cheerfully or

willingly as the skill at arms. Father Francis had, however, taught him

to read and to write--accomplishments which were at that time rare,

except in the cloister. In those days if a knight had a firm seat in his

saddle, a strong arm, a keen eye, and high courage, it was thought to be

of little matter whether he could or could not do more than make his mark

on the parchment. The whole life of the young was given to acquiring

skill in arms; and unless intended for the convent, any idea of education

would in the great majority of cases have been considered as

preposterous.

To do Cuthbert justice, he had protested with all his might against

the proposition of Father Francis to his mother to teach him some

clerkly knowledge. He had yielded most unwillingly at last to her

entreaties, backed as they were by the sound arguments and good sense

of Father Francis.

The Earl of Evesham received Cuthbert's application very graciously.

"Certainly, Cuthbert," he said, "you shall accompany me; first, on

account of my promise to you; secondly, because from the readiness you

displayed both in the matter of my daughter and of the attack on Wortham,

you will be a notable aid and addition to my party; thirdly, from my

friendship for your father and Dame Editha."

This point being settled, Cuthbert at once assumed his new duties. There

was plenty for him to do--to see that the orders of the earl were

properly carried out; to bear messages to the knights who followed the

earl's fortunes, at their various holds; to stand by and watch the

armourers at work, and the preparation of the stores of arms and missiles

which would be necessary for the expedition.

Sometimes he would go round to summon the tenants of the various farms

and lands, who held from the earl, to come to the castle; and here Sir

Walter would, as far as might be without oppression, beg of them to

contribute largely to the expedition.

In these appeals he was in no slight way assisted by Father Francis, who

pointed out loudly to the people that those who stayed behind were bound

to make as much sacrifice of their worldly goods, as those who went to

the war might make of their lives. Life and land are alike at the service

of God. Could the land be sold, it would be a good deed to sell it; but

as this could not be, they should at least sell all that they could, and

pledge their property if they could find lenders, in order to contribute

to the needs of their lord, and the fitting out of this great enterprise.

The preparations were at last complete, and a gallant band gathered at

the castle ready for starting. It consisted of some 200 men-at-arms led

by six knights, and of 100 bowmen dressed in Lincoln green, with quilted

jerkins to keep out the arrows of the enemy. All the country from around

gathered to see the start. Dame Editha was there, and by her side stood

the earl's little daughter. The earl himself was in armour, and beside

him rode Cuthbert in the gay attire of a page.

Just at that moment, however, his face did not agree with his costume,

for although he strove his best to look bright and smiling, it was a

hard task to prevent the tears from filling his eyes at his departure

from his mother. The good lady cried unrestrainedly, and Margaret joined

in her tears. The people who had gathered round cheered lustily; the

trumpets blew a gay fanfaronade; and the squire threw to the wind the

earl's colours.

It was no mere pleasure trip on which they were starting, for all knew

that, of the preceding crusades, not one in ten of those who had gone so

gladly forth had ever returned.

It must not be supposed that the whole of those present were animated by

any strong religious feeling. No doubt there existed a desire, which was

carefully fanned by the preaching of the priests and monks, to rescue the

holy sepulchre from the hands of the Saracens; but a far stronger

feeling was to be found in the warlike nature of the people in those

days. Knights, men-at-arms, and indeed men of all ranks, were full of a

combative spirit. Life in the castle and hut was alike dull and

monotonous, and the excitement of war and adventure was greatly looked

for, both as a means of obtaining glory and booty, and for the change

they afforded to the dreary monotony of life.

There is little to tell of the journey of the Earl of Evesham's band

through England to Southampton, at which place they took ship and crossed

to France--or rather to Normandy, for in those days Normandy was

regarded, as indeed it formed, a part of England.

Cuthbert, as was natural to his age, was full of delight at all the

varying scenes through which they passed. The towns were to him an

especial source of wonder, for he had never visited any other than that

of Worcester, to which he had once or twice been taken on occasions of

high festival. Havre was in those days an important place, and being the

landing-place of a great portion of the English bands, it was full of

bustle and excitement. Every day ships brought in nobles and their

followings.

The King of England was already in Normandy hastening the preparations,