and there were still bones. It became evident
that an army of skeletons, disposed in ranks,
usually, though not invariably, pointing east and
west, extended far in front and on either hand.
All were perfect; all, with one exception (of
those examined), males; all laid, as with military
method and regularity, decently in order, on
their backs, and with hands placed together on
the body, or crossed upon the breast. The
great majority seemed to have perished in the
prime of strength and manhood. Some of them
must have been creatures of noble mould. One
of the skeletons was that of a man exceeding
seven feet in stature. The skull of this gigantic
warrior — if such he were — exhibited a fearful
injury (not caused in the process of exhumation),
such as might have been inflicted by the
blow of a heavy weapon—a mace or battle-axe,
dealt from horse-height.

There is a mystery overhanging these remains
that rarely attaches to similar discoveries. In
every instance in which interments on a scale
approaching this, have been revealed, the finger
of history, or at least, of local tradition, has
pointed to some incident capable of elucidating
the matter. Or, if that has been wanting, the
remains themselves have supplied the needful
testimony. The natural structure of the skulls,
atoms of dress and arms, coin, working
implements, &c., have furnished the archæologist
with data for the historian. In this case, all such
evidence is wholly wanting. Of the nine or ten
skulls conveyed to Oxford to be examined by
Professor Rolleston, none were indicative of an
especial race. Not a shred, not an atom of garments,
arms, or any such thing, afforded a clue to the
probable epoch of the burial. That the place
was an ordinary cemetery, was negatived both
by the uniformity of sex of the buried,
and the shallowness of the trenches in which
they were laid. The same objections, with
the additional one of great care and
deliberation having been manifestly used in the
interment, prohibit the supposition that it was
a plague-pit. On the other hand, these three
circumstances are all alike characteristic of a
military burial, the careful arrangement in
shallow trenches indicating the combined order
and haste with which such operations are often
conducted. Stern necessity compels the speedy
covering of the mangled and decomposing dead.
There is no time to dig deep. In many a battle-
field, down to Magenta and Solferino, where it
was the writer's hap to witness the burial of
many thousand slain, the coverlet of earth
accorded to the warriors has not been thicker
than this of Milcote.

And the date? It was suggested that the
Chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon might cast
some light upon this question; but, of the
battles that hurtle through his pages, not one
can be assigned to this precise locality, nor does
he refer, in terms, to any Warwickshire battle,
save that at Secandane (Seckington), in seven
hundred and fifty-two, in which King Ethelbald
and a large following were slain.

There is no lack of more recent battle-fields
in the neighbourhood. Tewkesbury, the last
conflict of the rival Roses, was fought but
twelve miles from Milcote; still it is to the
last degree unlikely that the slain, though
identical in number with those buried here, should
have been transported to this spot. Edge-hill
lies still nearer; but some record of such an
interment, so comparatively recent, must, beyond
question, have been preserved.

Unless some new discovery should suggest a
different solution of the mystery, it may be fairly
presumed that this mute graveyard owes its
origin to the battle, or rather the massacre, of
Evesham, in which the turbulent spirit of Simon
de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, closed its
earthly career. This occurred on the fourth of
August, twelve hundred and seventy-one. The
earl, approaching from the Welsh marches,
expected to form a junction with his son,
advancing from London; and, with that
view, crossed the Severn, and encamped at
Evesham. From thence he witnessed with
exultation the approach of a splendid host, its
own well-known banners floating in the van.
While gazing on the array, news arrived that
a powerful enemy threatened his flank, while
the force in front, displaying the royal banners
in place of those they had captured, themselves
conveyed the first intelligence to the dismayed
baron that his son had been surprised, defeated,
and slain. Short time was allowed for dispositions
of defence. The foe came steadily on. " I have
taught these men the art of war," muttered the
earl, bitterly; adding, as he saw his Welsh
levies already preparing to melt away, " the
Lord have mercy on our souls! Our bodies are
Prince Edward's!"

Old King Henry, a prisoner — placed by
Leicester in the front of the battle—was wounded,
but saved; while the earl, his son, Hugh le
Despencer, a hundred and sixty knights, and
many gentlemen, perished on the field. As
the raw Welsh levies, dismayed at the terrible
disparity of force, broke and fled almost
before the battle joined, nothing is more likely
than that the headlong flight continued until
the Stour and Avon, one on either hand, uniting
at Milcote, caught them as in a snare. These
streams, though narrow, were unfordable. There
was no return; for the fight was over, and the
victors already on their track. In that confined
plateau, we do not doubt, the fugitives were
massacred, stripped, and buried.

Strong desires had been expressed by scientific
men that a further investigation should be
made—while others, indifferent to the claims of
history and archæology, were disposed to regard
such a course as an unwarrantable desecration
of the spot. Severe frost put an end to any
hesitation that good Mr. Adkins might have felt in
deciding this point of controversy; but the difficulty
of satisfying everybody was curiously
exemplified by the receipt of two letters, by the
same post, addressed to the proprietor by two
gentlemen in Scotland. Number One deeply
regretted the extent to which the exhumations
had been already carried, condemned the idle