As my lord lay past help,
methought I had best shift myself ere more rascaille came to strip
the slain. And as luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbled
among the corpses I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown
Weardale, running masterless. Glad enough was he, poor brute, to
have my hand on his rein.
"The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to put him
to the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young Master
Robin, and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, on the
other side, holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress Grisell
wedded, and though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand to them,
and was letting them go by in safety. I was calling to Master Rob to
let me pass as one of his own, when thundering on came the grim Lord
Clifford, roaring like the wind in Roker caves. I heard him howl at
young Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed spoilers of
York. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed him aside against
the wall, and, ah! woe's me, lady, when Master Robin threw himself
between, the fellow--a murrain on his name--ran the fair youth
through the neck with his sword, and swept him off into the river.
Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, "Thy father slew
mine, and so do I thee," and dashed out his brains with his mace.
For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over the river in the
twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses and poor
slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was even
worse, some not yet dead, borne along and crying out.
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