The next days were full of excitement for Much Waltham.  The request made by the people of Essex had been listened to by the great earl, and though he could scarce credit the fact that the king’s son had been so near, he was convinced at last, and burned to avenge himself on those who had tried to take him captive.  A band of armed men was sent down, and the forest swept clear of the marauders—­at least for a while.  Will Ives had his wish, and met Simon Dowsett face to face in a hand-to-hand struggle; and although the latter did all to deserve his undesirable sobriquet, he was overpowered at last and slain, and his head carried in triumph to his native village, where, after the savage custom of the day, it was exposed on a pike on the village green.

Paul heard of this fight by report alone, for he was able to get only as far as the great kitchen fire, where he and Eva spent a great part of their time in eagerly discussing the questions of the day.  Her father, the chief of the band, made his escape with some few of his followers, and was heard of no more in those parts.  His daughter was glad he was not killed, though she could not desire to see him more; and in a short time she and Jack were married, and she almost forgot that she had been for so many years living amongst the robbers of Black Notley.

Chapter 8:  The Rally Of The Red Rose.

“Paul!  Is it really you?  Now indeed I feel that I have reached my native land again.  O Paul, I have wearied sorely for you.  Why followed you not me to France, as we planned?  Every day I looked for tidings of you, and none came.  But this meeting atones for all.”

It was the bright dawn of an Easter day, and Paul, after a night’s hard riding, stood within the precincts of the Abbey of Cerne, not far from the seaport of Weymouth.  His hands were closely grasped in those of young Edward, who was looking into his face with beaming eyes.

It was no longer the fugitive Edward of the winter months, but a royally equipped and accoutred youth, upon whose noble face and figure Paul’s eyes dwelt with fond pride.  Weary and tempestuous as had been the voyage from France to England—­a voyage that had lasted seventeen days, in lieu of scarce so many hours—­yet the bright face of the Prince of Wales bore no signs of fatigue or disappointment.  The weary days of waiting were over.  He and his mother had come to share his father’s royal state, and drive from the shores—­if he came—­the bold usurper who had hitherto triumphed in the strife of the Roses.  His heart beat high with hope and lofty purpose; and in joy at the eager welcomes poured upon him by the friends and warriors who came flocking to his standard he forgot all the doubts and fears of the past, and looked upon himself as the saviour of his country, as indeed he was regarded by all his party.

The old comrades and friends looked each other well over with smiling glances, and it seemed as if Edward marked in Paul as much change in the outward man as he had done in the prince.