I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land,

To wash this blood off from my guilty hand:
March sadly after; grace my mournings here ;
In weeping after this untimely bier."

But though King Henry repudiated the cruel murder which took place in the sombre dungeons of Pomfret Castle, he could not stifle the voice of an aroused conscience, and from that day a heavy shadow and gloom lay upon him, his wakeful hours were melancholy, his nights were oppressive with ill dreams, and he was never able to wash the stains of blood from his hands.

King Henry the Fourth

A

Before the Battle of Shrewsbury

FTER King Richard's death in Pontefract Castle, the man who had deposed him, and now reigned as King Henry IV., found that the crown which he had snatched so boisterously from his cousin was easier to seize than to hold. Insurrections were rife within his dominions, and, in addition to this menace, powerful enemies were lurking upon the Marches of Scotland and Wales, awaiting a favourable opportunity to sweep down upon England.

In the North the powerful Earl Percy of Northumberland, with his valiant son Hotspur, was trying to hold back the surging tide of Scottish invasion, and in the West Lord Grey of Ruthin, a sturdy Lancastrian, and Edmund Mortimer, were Wardens of the Welsh Marches. King Richard had always had many faithful adherents in Cheshire and the border counties, and on his death Owen Glendower, a knight who was fifth in descent from Llewellyn, the last native prince of Wales, raised the standard of insurrection, and rallied around himself not only the Welshmen but also many Englishmen who were determined to be loyal to the memory of Richard. Young Mortimer, Earl of March, was the nearest to the throne of all the descendants of Edward HII., and

his succession had been publicly acknowledged, hence Henry of Lancaster was compelled to watch him with a jealous eye, especially since Edmund Mortimer, the vigilant keeper of the stormy Welsh Marches, was his nephew's guardian and the leader of many valiant soldiers. If Edmund Mortimer deserted the Lancastrian cause, and put forward the young Earl of March as the rightful King of England, his powerful following would without doubt make his defection a serious matter for King Harry.

Further, Edmund Mortimer had married the daughter of Owen Glendower, and thus his interests were linked with the Welshman. The sister of Mortimer had married young Henry Percy, whom the Scots had surnamed Hotspur because of his fiery impetuosity in battle. His father Northumberland had been King Henry's most active supporter in the movement which had brought about the deposition and death of Richard II.; and with his brother Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, and his brother-in-law, the Earl of Westmoreland (a man who hated Worcester), now held the Scottish borderlands against Albany, the Regent of Scotland; Mordake, Earl of Fife, his eldest son; Earls Douglas, Moray, Angus, and Orkney.

In July 1402 a great Scottish army broke across the Borders and ravaged the country as far as the Tyne, holding the land in terror for more than two months. Its leaders threatened to march to London and replace upon his throne King Richard, whom they averred had escaped from Pontefract and was now present with the Scottish army.

Thus the position of King Henry was full of difficulties, and required the utmost caution and cleverness to

avoid the many rocks and shoals which threatened the life of the new monarch. It was generally believed that the Earl of Northumberland held the fortunes of King Henry in the hollow of his hand. But the King was a wise, far-seeing statesman, persevering, shrewd, and very courageous: able to weigh up the forces likely to be brought against him, and clever enough to balance one against the other. But he had not scrupled to use base means to compass his ends, and the remembrance of past deeds troubled his sensitive conscience and destroyed much of his peace of mind. He became suspicious of those about him, and the anxiety of constant watchfulness deprived him of his sleep. He grew pale and haggard, and so nervous that men wondered at the change which had come over the man who had formerly been so vigorous.

Most of all he was disappointed because of the wild and dissolute behaviour of his eldest son Henry, a young Prince who was a striking contrast to young Harry Percy. He had become the companion of a crew of jovial, reckless roysterers who haunted taverns and were ready for any wild enterprise so long as it promised some excitement. Instead of seeking distinction upon the field of battle or in the Council, young Harry of Monmouth was risking his honour, or, as his father thought, flinging it away among his careless companions. Every man in that stirring age was being led into activity by his desire for honour or by his vainglory; some, like Henry Bolingbroke and Owen Glendower, were striving for high positions and government; others, like Douglas and Hotspur, sought honour upon the field of battle. It was an eager, striving, pushing age, and therefore it was remarkable that the Prince

of Wales, a clever, capable young man, seemed to despise the honours so much prized and sought after by his peers, and preferred to spend his time with those who had flung all honour to the winds and were acknowledged to be a crowd of careless prodigals. At any rate, these prodigals were a merry, good-natured company, ready to drink, fight, or beat the watch, and while eager to play any fool's trick upon the busy merchants and citizens, were always ripe for song and laughter.

Their merriment was a great contrast to the solemn gravity of the Court, and their open-handed generosity seemed to imply that great possessions often encouraged miserliness. On the surface it seemed as though there was something wanting in the prizes which honour had to bestow upon its anxious, eager, unscrupulous votaries, or that there was something unworthy in the secret hearts of the men who were seeking to win them. Hotspur was described by King Henry as a son who is the theme of honour's tongue, and Hotspur himself said

66

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap,

To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities."

But a keener intellect than that of Hotspur described honour in other terms, and this man Falstaff, the leader of the wild, reckless company which had been chosen by the Prince, put the matter in these words:

Hotspår.