ampart, which neither friend nor foe could now approach without
precaution, so fiercely did the horses struggle in the throes of death,
and at the sight of that great carnage he smiled upon one side.

"Despatch these horses," he said; "they keep you from your vantage.
Richard Shelton," he added, "ye have pleased me. Kneel."

The Lancastrians had already resumed their archery, and the shafts fell
thick in the mouth of the street; but the duke, minding them not at all,
deliberately drew his sword and dubbed Richard a knight upon the spot.

"And now, Sir Richard," he continued, "if that ye see Lord Risingham,
send me an express upon the instant. Were it your last man, let me hear
of it incontinently. I had rather venture the post than lose my stroke
at him. For mark me, all of ye," he added, raising his voice, "if Earl
Risingham fall by another hand than mine, I shall count this victory a
defeat."

"My lord duke," said one of his attendants, "is your grace not weary of
exposing his dear life unneedfully? Why tarry we here?"

"Catesby," returned the duke, "here is the battle, not elsewhere. The
rest are but feigned onslaughts. Here must we vanquish. And for the
exposure--if ye were an ugly hunchback, and the children gecked at you
upon the street, ye would count your body cheaper, and an hour of glory
worth a life. Howbeit, if ye will, let us ride on and visit the other
posts. Sir Richard here, my namesake, he shall still hold this entry,
where he wadeth to the ankles in hot blood. Him can we trust. But mark
it, Sir Richard, ye are not yet done. The worst is yet to ward. Sleep
not."

He came right up to young Shelton, looking him hard in the eyes, and
taking his hand in both of his, gave it so extreme a squeeze that the
blood had nearly spurted. Dick quailed before his eyes. The insane
excitement, the courage, and the cruelty that he read therein filled him
with dismay about the future. This young duke's was indeed a gallant
spirit, to ride foremost in the ranks of war; but after the battle, in
the days of peace and in the circle of his trusted friends, that mind,
it was to be dreaded, would continue to bring forth the fruits of
death.

CHAPTER III

THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY

(CONCLUDED)

Dick, once more left to his own counsels, began to look about him. The
arrow-shot had somewhat slackened. On all sides the enemy were falling
back; and the greater part of the market-place was now left empty, the
snow here