"This has been a strange adventure, Roger."  
"A very strange one, master. Lord Grey would tear his hair, if he knew that those two pretty birds had been hiding in the cage all day, and he never knew it. However, I see not that it can do us harm. Nay, more, there is a probability that it may even benefit us, for if it should happen, by ill fortune, we should ever fall into the hands of the Welsh, and they should abstain from cutting our throats then and there, perchance these young ladies would repay the service we have rendered them, by taking us under their protection."
 
"It may be so, indeed, Roger, though I hope that I shall never hear more of tonight's adventure. We may reason as we will, but there is no doubt that, although we had no instructions touching the capture of women, we have failed in our duty."
 
"That will in no way trouble me, Master Oswald. When I was a monk, I failed in my duty scores of times, and am no whit the worse for it; rather the better, indeed, since it is owing to my failures that I am now a free man-at-arms, instead of being mewed up for life in a convent. I shall not sleep one wink less, for having saved two of the prettiest girls I ever saw from having been shut up, for years, in a prison."
 
"I am afraid your sense of duty is not strong, Roger."
 
"I am afraid not, master, saving in the matter of doing my duty in face of an enemy."
 
"You mean, Roger, that you will do your duty when it so pleases you, and not otherwise."
 
"I expect that is the way with a good many of us," Roger laughed. "I wonder whether Lord Grey had any idea that Glendower's daughters were in the house when we arrived there?"
 
"I know not, but I remember now that they had men searching, for some time, for signs of secret passages. Whether it was from any idea that Glendower's daughters might be hidden away, I know not."
 
"Truly it might have been," Roger said, "for I saw, among the spoil that was carried off when the others rode for Chirk, some silks and stuffs that looked like feminine garments.
 
"There is somebody coming across from the next post," he broke off. "Doubtless it is the captain. You would not tell him what we have done?"
 
"Certainly not, Roger. My uncle is an old soldier, and though he would not, for my sake, say anything about it, I think not that he would approve of what has been done. 'Tis best, at any rate, to keep it entirely to ourselves."
 
"All quiet here, as elsewhere?" Alwyn asked as he came up.
 
"All quiet, Uncle."
 
"'Tis well; for although methinks that we could hold the place against the Welshmen, we could hardly hope that some of our posts would not be cut off, before they could reach the house. It is well to keep watch, but the more I think of it, the more I feel that Glendower will scarce attack us. He could not hold the place, did he gain it; and it might well be that, after we were turned out again, the place would be destroyed, seeing that it would need two or three hundred men to be shut up here, in garrison."
 
After waiting half an hour, Alwyn again made the round of the posts, and then went in to rouse the party that were to relieve them. As soon as these issued out, the sentries were called in, and stretched themselves for three hours' sleep.
 
Before day dawned, a messenger rode in from Chirk, bearing Earl Talbot's orders for the evacuation of the house, as there could be no advantage in retaining it; and, were it empty, Glendower might return there, and afford them another opportunity for capturing him.
 
On the following day the party broke up. Lord Grey rode with his men to Ruthyn, and the forty men-at-arms from Ludlow returned to that town; where, a few days later, the news arrived that Glendower, with a large following, had established himself on the rugged height of Corwen, and was engaged in strengthening the ancient fortifications on its summit.
 
For a time there was quiet on the border, and then came the startling news that Glendower had suddenly surprised, plundered, and burnt to the ground the town of Ruthyn, where a fair was being held at the time. Then, having obtained great booty, and greatly injured his enemy Lord Grey, he again retired. It was evident that no local force of sufficient strength could be found to pursue Glendower into his fastnesses on the ranges of Berwyn and Snowdon, and nothing was done until, three months later, the king, on his return from Scotland, marched into Wales with the levies of Warwickshire, Leicestershire, and eight other adjacent counties, while orders were issued to the people of Shrewsbury, and other towns on the eastern border, to hold themselves in readiness to repel any movement of the Welsh in that direction.
 
The king, however, accomplished nothing. Glendower, with his following, took refuge among the forests of Snowdon; and the English army marched along the north coast, putting to the sword a few bands of peasantry, who ventured to oppose them; crossed to the Isle of Anglesey and, entering the Franciscan monastery of Llanfaes, slew some of the monks and carried the rest to England, and established a community of English monks in the convent. This was done because the Franciscans had been supporters of the late king, and were believed to have given aid and encouragement to Glendower.
 
The Welsh expedition was, therefore, no more successful than the Scotch had been.
 
For a time, matters settled down. Glendower was occupied in strengthening his position. So much had his reputation spread, that large numbers of Welshmen who had settled in England now sold their property, gave up their positions and abandoned their careers, and made their way across the border to join him. Still, for some months no operations were undertaken, on either side; and, a week after the return of the king and his forces, Sir Edmund Mortimer said to Oswald:
 
"I will no longer keep you and your following from your lord's side. I have largely strengthened my garrison, and twenty men, however valiant, are no longer of importance. As you know, I should not have asked Percy to aid me, had I not thought that, perchance, he might have come himself, bringing with him two or three hundred men; and that my sister might have accompanied him. Maybe, if matters go on quietly on the northern marches, he may be able to do so yet; but I fear that the Scotch will take advantage of the troubles here, and may, for aught I know, have entered into communication with Glendower, so that they may together harass the kingdom. I have written several times to him, telling him what good service you and his men have rendered; and that I would I had five hundred such good fighters with me, in which case I would undertake, single handed, to bring this fellow to reason.
 
"I have written a letter which I will hand you to deliver, saying that, as at present things are quiet and Glendower is in hiding among the mountains, I have sent you back to him; not without the hope that, should greater events take place, he himself will come hither, for a while, to give me the benefit of his knowledge of border warfare, even if he comes accompanied only by my sister and a dozen spears. I may tell you that, some two months since, he wrote saying that he should be glad to have you, and the captain of his garrison of Alnwick, back again; and I then wrote to him, saying that while the king was in Wales I would hold you, seeing that Glendower might make a great foray here, while the king was hunting for him in the north; but that, as soon as he left with his army, I would send you home."
 
Alwyn and the men were all well pleased when they heard that they were to return; for, since the raid on Glendower's house, their life had been a dull one, to which even the fact that they were receiving pay from Sir Edmund, as well as from Percy, was insufficient to reconcile them; and it was with light hearts that they started, on the following morning, for the north, arriving at Alnwick ten days after leaving. Sir Hotspur came down into the courtyard, as they rode into the castle.
 
"Welcome back, Oswald; and you, my trusty Alwyn!
 
"I thank you all, my men, for the manner in which you have borne yourselves, and that you have shown the men of the west how stoutly we Northumbrians can hold our own, in the day of battle. I am glad, indeed, to find that all that went have returned home; some bearing scars, indeed, but none disabled. I will instruct your captain to grant all of you a month's leave, to pay a visit to your families.
 
"You must sup with us tonight, Alwyn, and give us a full account of your doings, and also your frank opinion as to the state of things in the west, and the probability of long trouble with this strange Welshman, who has so boldly taken up arms, and defied the strength of England."
 
It was nearly a year since the party had left Alnwick, and Oswald had, in that time, greatly increased in height and strength. He was now eighteen, and as he was nearly six feet in height, and his figure had filled out greatly since he had left his home, he might well have passed as three or four years older than his real age. That evening, Alwyn gave a full account of their fray with the Welsh.
 
"These men fight stoutly, Alwyn," Percy said, when he had concluded his story.
 
"Right stoutly, Sir Henry, and were their discipline equal to their bravery, they would be formidable opponents, indeed; but as it is, they are quite unable to stand against men-at-arms in a set battle. In this respect they are by no means equal to the Scotch, but for surprises, or irregular fighting, I could wish to see no better men."
 
"It is an unfortunate affair," Percy said. "It seemed that we had finished with Wales, at Llewellyn's death, and that the two nations had become one. In London, and many other places, they were settled among us. Numbers of them studied at our universities, and in Shropshire, Radnor, Flint, and other border counties I have heard that most of the labouring men were Welsh, and have come to speak our language; and indeed, they form no small portion of the garrisons of the castles; so much so that I fear that, should the Welsh really ravage the border counties, 'tis like that not a few of the castles will fall into their hands by the treachery of their fellow countrymen in the garrisons.
 
"Sir Edmund speaks very highly of you, Oswald, not only for your behaviour in the fight, which was reported to him by Sir James Burgon, a knight well fitted to judge in such matters, but as an inmate of his castle. He said that, from your conversation, he has conceived a high opinion of you.
 
"At present things are somewhat quiet here, and it were well that you should, like your uncle, take a holiday for a time, and visit your father and mother. They have sent over, several times, for news of you."
 
The next morning Oswald mounted and rode off, attended by Roger, who had asked Oswald to take him with him, as he had no relations he cared to visit. Alwyn was going for a few days only, and indeed, would probably have declined to take a holiday at all, had not Oswald earnestly begged him to go with him.
 
"'Tis two years since you have been there," Oswald said.
 
"That is so, Oswald, but I have often been longer without seeing my brother; and, in truth, of late I have had so little to do, with but twenty men to look after, that I long for regular work and drill again. Still, it were best that I went with you. There are turbulent times on hand, both on this border, in Wales, and maybe in France. I may get myself killed, and your father's house may be harried again by the Bairds, and he may not succeed in getting off scatheless, as he did last time; and I should blame myself, afterwards, if I had not seen him, and shaken his hand, when I had an opportunity such as the present."
 
Oswald had seen so much, during the two years that had passed since he first left the hold that, as he rode towards it, it seemed strange that everything should be going on as if it was but the day before that he had ridden away--the only difference being that the hold looked strangely small, and of little account, after the many strong castles he had seen.
 
As soon as they reached the moor, within sight of the hold, a horseman was seen to leave it, and ride at a gallop towards them.
 
"That is ever the way," Oswald said; "we like to know, when a visitor is seen, whether he comes as friend or foe."
 
As the moss trooper rode up, and was about to put the customary question, he recognized Oswald; and, wheeling his pony without a word, dashed off at full gallop, waving his spear and shouting, as he approached the hold.
 
They rode at a canter after him and, as they reached the entrance, his father and mother appeared at the door at the top of the steps. The latter ran down the steps and, as Oswald leapt from his horse, threw her arms round his neck.
 
"Thank God you are back again, my boy!" she cried; "though as yet, I can hardly believe that this tall fellow is my Oswald. But otherwise you are in no way changed."
 
"I think, Mother, that you are looking better than when I saw you last."
 
"I am well, dear," she said. "We have had a quiet year, and no cause for anxiety, and things have gone well with us; and it has been pleasant, indeed, for us to have received such good news of your doings, and to know that you stood so well with Hotspur."
 
Oswald now ran up the steps to greet his father, who was already talking with Alwyn, who had slipped off his horse and run to speak to his brother, while Oswald was occupied with his mother.
 
"Well, lad," John Forster said, laying his hand upon his shoulder, and looking him up and down, "you have grown well nigh into manhood. I always said that you would over top me, and though methinks that I have still three inches of advantage, you have yet time to grow up to look down on me.
 
"Well, you have done credit to us, boy, and your monkish reading and writing has not harmed you, as I was afraid it would. Alwyn tells me that no man of Percy's troop did better than you, in that fight with the Welsh; save, mayhap, that big man-at-arms down there, who, he tells me, cracked the skulls of four Welshmen who were trying to stab you, besides those he disposed of on his own account."
 
"I owe him my life, indeed, Father. He is a man after your own heart, strong and brave and hearty, even jovial when occasion offers. He can troll out a border lay with the best, and can yet read and write as well as an abbot. His name is Roger."
 
"Come up, Roger," John Forster shouted, "and give me a grip of your hand. You have saved my son's life, as he tells me; and, so long as you live, there will be a nook by the fire, here, and a hearty welcome, when you are tired of soldiering."
 
"In truth, you are a mighty man," he went on, after he and Roger had exchanged a grip that would have well nigh broken the bones of an ordinary man. "I have been looked upon as one able to strike as hard a blow as any on the border; but assuredly, you would strike a heavier one. Why, man, you must be five or six inches bigger, round the chest, than I am."
 
"You have been an active man from your youth," Roger replied, "ever on horseback and about, while I spent years with nought to do but eat and drink, and build up my frame, in a monastery."
 
"Oswald told us, in his letters, that you had been a monk; but had, with the consent of the abbot, unfrocked yourself."............