The proclamation respecting him was widely known throughout the camp, and it was said on all hands that the life of the prince would be safe; but whether he would share his father’s captivity or be banished the kingdom with his French mother were points no one could answer.

And Paul rode silently and swiftly by, glad that no one heeded him or challenged him to give an account of himself.

Dismounting at last as he reached the outskirts of the crowd, and turning his horse loose to find its own master if it could, Paul was about to push his way into the eager knot of spectators, when a hand was laid upon his arm; and turning suddenly, he found himself confronted by a delicate page boy, whose white face and dilated eyes seemed to bespeak the extreme of emotion and distress.  Before he had time to speak or to ask a question, the page addressed him; and as soon as the voice smote upon his ears Paul started and turned even paler than he had been; for he had heard those musical tones before, and in the fair page before him he recognized, to his horror and dismay, the gentle Lady Anne—­young Edward’s bride—­here, alone and unprotected, in the heart of the foe’s camp.

She saw that she was recognized, and laid her hand upon her lips in token of silence.  Paul choked back the words that were upon his tongue, and looked at her in mute amaze.

“I could not keep away,” she whispered, “when they told me all was lost and he had not returned.  It was the only way.  No one has heeded me in the tumult and strife.  I heard all.  I heard he was prisoner—­that he was to be brought before Edward of York.  Paul, I knew that you would be near him.  I knew, if living, I should find you.  See, they heed us not.  They care not whether we be friends or foes.  Take me through the crowd; take me to him.  I am safe with you.  Let us all die together.”

Paul, utterly bewildered and astonished by this extraordinary meeting, could only obey in silence.  It was all like some hideous, oppressive dream.  Little by little he and his companion made their way through the throng until they reached the line of armed sentries who kept their stations outside the royal tent.  Here they would have had to pause, had not Paul made a step forward and said boldly: 

“I am the servant squire of the prisoner, and I claim the right to stand at his side and share his fate, whatever it may be.  Let me and this lad, I pray you, go to him.  We desire nothing better than to lay down our lives with him.”

The sentries eyed the pair doubtfully.  Their unarmed condition and Paul’s visibly battered state told that these were no dangerous conspirators; and devotion to a lost cause always stirs the generous feelings of brave men.  It may, however, be doubted whether the pair would have gained their wish had it not been for the fact that at this moment Edward himself appeared, disarmed, but otherwise treated with due honour and courtesy, attended by his captor, who was leading him to the king’s tent in obedience to a summons just received.