Many of the other Barons, and
particularly the Earl of Gloucester who had
become by this time as proud as his father,
grew jealous of this powerful and popular
Earl, who was proud too, and began to
conspire against him. Since the battle of Lewes,
Prince Edward had been kept as a hostage,
and, though he was otherwise treated like a
Prince, had never been allowed to go out
without attendants appointed by the Earl of
Leicester, who watched him. The conspiring
Lords found means to propose to him, in
secret, that they should assist him to escape,
and should make him their leader; to which
he very heartily consented. So, on a day that
was agreed upon, he said to his attendants
after dinner (being then at Hereford), "I
should like to ride on horseback, this fine
afternoon, a little way into the country." As
they, too, thought it would be very pleasant
to have a canter in the sunshine, they all
rode out of the town together in a gay little
troop. When they came to a fine level piece
of turf, the Prince fell to comparing their
horses one with another, and offering bets
that one was faster than another; and the
attendants, suspecting no harm, rode galloping
matches until their horses were quite
tired. The Prince rode no matches himself,
but looked on from his saddle, and staked his
money. Thus they passed the whole merry
afternoon. Now, the sun was setting, and
they were all going slowly up a hill, the
Prince's horse very fresh and all the other
horses very weary, when a strange rider
mounted on a grey steed appeared at the
top of the hill, and waved his hat. "What
does that fellow mean?" said the attendants
one to another. The Prince answered on the
instant, by setting spurs to his horse, dashing
away at his utmost speed, joining the man,
riding into the midst of a little crowd of
horsemen who were then seen waiting under
some trees, and who closed around him; and
so he departed in a cloud of dust, leaving the
road empty of all but the baffled attendants,
who sat looking at one another, while their
horses drooped their ears and panted.

The Prince joined the Earl of Gloucester
at Ludlow. The Earl of Leicester, with a
part of the army and the stupid old king,
was at Hereford. One of the Earl of Leicester's
sons, Simon de Montfort, with another
part of the army was in Sussex. To prevent
these two parts from uniting was the Prince's
object. He attacked Simon de Montfort
by night, defeated him, seized his banners
and treasure, and forced him into Kenilworth
Castle in Warwickshire, which belonged
to his family.

His father, the Earl of Leicester, in the
meanwhile, not knowing what had happened,
marched out of Hereford, with his part of the
army and the King, to meet him. He came,
on a bright morning in August, to Evesham,
which is watered by the pleasant river Avon.
Looking rather anxiously across the prospect
towards Kenilworth, he saw his own banners
advancing; and his face brightened with joy.
But, it clouded darkly when he presently
perceived that the banners were captured, and
in the enemy's hands; and he said, "It is
over. The Lord have mercy on our souls, for
our bodies are Prince Edward's!"

He fought like a true Knight, nevertheless.
When his horse was killed under him, he
fought on foot. It was a fierce battle, and
the dead lay in heaps everywhere. The old
King, stuck up in a suit of armour on a big
war-horse, which didn't mind him at all, and which
carried him into all sorts of places where he
didn't want to go, got into everybody's way,
and very nearly got knocked on the head by
one of his son's men. But he managed to
pipe out, "I am Harry of Winchester!" and
the Prince, who heard him, seized his bridle,
and took him out of peril. The Earl of
Leicester still fought bravely, until his best
son Henry was killed, and the bodies of
his best friends choked his path; and then
he fell, still fighting, sword in hand. They
mangled his body, and sent it as a present
to a noble lady—but a very unpleasant lady,
I should think,—who was the wife of his
worst enemy. They could not mangle his
memory in the minds of the faithful people,
though. Many years afterwards, they loved
him more than ever, and regarded him as a
Saint, and always spoke of him as "Sir Simon
the Righteous."

And even though he was dead, the cause
for which he had fought still lived and was
strong, and forced itself upon the King, even
in the hour of victory. Henry found himself
obliged to respect the Great Charter, however
much he hated it, and to make laws similar to
the laws of the Great Earl of Leicester, and to
be moderate and forgiving towards the people
at last—even towards the people of London,
who had so long opposed him. There
were more risings before all this was done,
but they were set at rest by these means, and
Prince Edward did his best in all things to
restore peace. One Sir Adam de Gourdon
was the last dissatisfied knight in arms; but,
the Prince vanquished him in single combat,
in a wood, and nobly gave him his life, and
became his friend, instead of slaying him. Sir
Adam was not ungrateful. He ever afterwards
remained devoted to his generous
conqueror.

When the troubles of the Kingdom were
thus calmed, Prince Edward and his cousin
Henry took the Cross, and went away to the
Holy Land, with many English Lords and
Knights. Four years afterwards the King of
the Romans died, and, next year, (one thousand
two hundred and seventy-two,) his
brother the weak King of England died.
He was sixty-eight years old then, and had
reigned fifty-six years. He was as much of
a King in death, as he had ever been in
life. He was the mere pale shadow of a
King at all times.