BOOK III--MY LORD FOXHAM

CHAPTER I--THE HOUSE BY THE SHORE

Months had passed away since Richard Shelton made his escape from the

hands of his guardian. These months had been eventful for England. The

party of Lancaster, which was then in the very article of death, had once

more raised its head. The Yorkists defeated and dispersed, their leader

butchered on the field, it seemed,--for a very brief season in the winter

following upon the events already recorded, as if the House of Lancaster

had finally triumphed over its foes.

The small town of Shoreby-on-the-Till was full of the Lancastrian nobles

of the neighbourhood. Earl Risingham was there, with three hundred

men-at-arms; Lord Shoreby, with two hundred; Sir Daniel himself, high in

favour and once more growing rich on confiscations, lay in a house of his

own, on the main street, with three-score men. The world had changed

indeed.

It was a black, bitter cold evening in the first week of January, with a

hard frost, a high wind, and every likelihood of snow before the morning.

In an obscure alehouse in a by-street near the harbour, three or four men

sat drinking ale and eating a hasty mess of eggs. They were all likely,

The Black Arrow