had been made prisoner at the last battle, and the queen was now in the northern counties with her son, the young prince Edward, endeavouring to raise fresh forces. These were hard times for the poor country-people, who suffered greatly from famine, as the soldiers were marching about in all directions, pillaging and destroying wherever they came. Almost every nobleman in England had joined either one side or the other, and many men, who would much rather have stayed at home in peace with their families, to work in the fields, or tend their flocks and herds, were compelled to take up arms at the bidding of their lords; but the peasantry in those days were so dependent on the nobles that every man was obliged to obey the commands of the lord of the land whereon he dwelt, for although the lower orders were not vassals and serfs as they used to be in earlier times, still they were not so free as they are now. Lord Clifford had come home chiefly for the purpose of leaving some of his trusty followers to defend the castle in case it should be attacked, which he thought probable, and as he had taken away all the fighting-men, there had latterly been none left in the castle but such as were too old or infirm to do much service. He therefore appointed a sufficient number to remain as a guard, then prepared to bid adieu once more to his wife and children. Lord Clifford was fierce and cruel in the wars, but he was fondly attached to his own family, and it was perhaps in some measure owing to his strong feelings with regard to domestic ties, united with a natural ferocity of disposition, that made him so unsparing towards his enemies as to obtain the name of “the butcher,” by which he is distinguished in history to this very day; for when his father fell at the battle of Saint Albans, he made a vow that he would revenge his death by never showing mercy to a partisan of the house of York, and he kept that vow but too well, as you will presently hear.

The gentle Lady Margaret watched, with a saddened heart and tearful eyes, the hurried preparations for her husband’s departure, while Henry and Richard stood near him, gazing with childish admiration on his stately form arrayed in armour of polished steel, over which he wore a tabard, or short coat of crimson velvet, richly embroidered with gold, and under its wide open sleeves the shining armour looked very splendid. His helmet was adorned with a plume of feathers, and as he was a tall, handsome man, no doubt he looked very magnificent in the eyes of his children. It was the last time they ever saw him.

Brougham Castle stood on the bank of a narrow river, and its principal entrance was an arched gateway opening to the 

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