subject, and after a great deal of discussion,
in which the judges and the other law officers
were afraid to give an opinion on either side,
the question was compromised. It was
agreed that the present King should retain
the crown for his life, and that it should then
pass to the Duke of York and his heirs.

But, the resolute Queen, determined on
asserting her son's rights, would hear of no
such thing. She came from Scotland to the
north of England, where several powerful
lords armed in her cause. The Duke of
York, for his part, set off with some five
thousand men, a little time before Christmas
Day, one thousand four hundred and sixty,
to give her battle. He lodged at Sandal
Castle, near Wakefield, and the Red Roses
defied him to come out on Wakefield Green,
and fight them then and there. His generals
said, he had best wait until his gallant son,
the Earl of March, came up with his power;
but, he was determined to accept the challenge.
He did so, in an evil hour. He was hotly
pressed on all sides, two thousand of his men
lay dead on Wakefield Green, and he himself
was taken prisoner. They set him down in
mock state on an ant-hill, and twisted grass
about his head, and pretended to pay court to
him on their knees, saying, "O King, without
a kingdom, and Prince without a people, we
hope your gracious Majesty is very well and
happy!" They did worse than this; they
cut his head off, and handed it, on a pole, to
the Queen, who laughed with delight when
she saw it (you recollect their walking so
religiously and comfortably to St. Paul's!), and
had it fixed, with a paper crown upon its
head, on the walls of York. The Earl of
Salisbury lost his head, too; and the Duke of
York's second son, a handsome boy who was
flying with his tutor over Wakefield Bridge,
was stabbed in the heart by a murderous lord
—Lord Clifford by name—whose father had
been killed by the White Roses in the fight at
St. Alban's. There was awful sacrifice of life
in this battle, for no quarter was given, and
the Queen was wild for revenge. When men
unnaturally fight against their own countrymen,
they are always observed to be more
unnaturally cruel and filled with rage than
they are against any other enemy.

But, Lord Clifford had stabbed the second
son of the Duke of York—not the first. The
eldest son, Edward Earl of March, was at
Gloucester; and, vowing vengeance for the
death of his father, his brother, and their
faithful friends, he began to march against
the Queen. He had to turn and fight a great
body of Welsh and Irish first, who worried
his advance. These he defeated in a great
fight at Mortimer's Cross, near Hereford,
where he beheaded a number of the Red
Roses taken in battle, in retaliation for the
beheading of the White Roses at Wakefield.
The Queen had the next turn of beheading.
Having moved towards London, and falling
in, between St. Alban's and Barnet, with
the Earl of Warwick and the Duke of
Norfolk, White Roses both, who were there
with an army to oppose her, and had got the
King with them; she defeated them with
great loss, and struck off the heads of two
prisoners of note, who were in the King's
tent with him, and to whom the King had
promised his protection. Her triumph,
however, was very short. She had no treasure,
and her army subsisted by plunder. This
caused them to be hated and dreaded by the
people, and particularly by the London
people, who were wealthy. As soon as the
Londoners heard that Edward, Earl of March,
united with the Earl of Warwick, was
advancing towards the city, they refused to send
the Queen supplies, and made a great
rejoicing. The Queen and her men retreated
with all speed, and Edward and Warwick
came on, greeted with loud acclamations on
every side. The courage, beauty, and virtues
of young Edward could not be sufficiently
praised by the whole people. He rode into
London like a conqueror, and met with an
enthusiastic welcome. A few days afterwards,
Lord Falconbridge and the Bishop of Exeter
assembled the citizens in St. John's Field,
Clerkenwell, and asked them if they would
have Henry of Lancaster for their King?
To this they all roared, "No, no, no!" and,
"King Edward! King Edward!" Then,
said those noblemen, would they love and
serve young Edward? To this they all cried,
"Yes, yes!" and threw up their caps and
clapped their hands, and cheered
tremendously. Therefore, it was declared that by
joining the Queen and not protecting those two
prisoners of note, Henry of Lancaster had
forfeited the crown; and Edward of York
was proclaimed King. He made a great speech
to the applauding people at Westminster, and
sat down as sovereign of England on that
throne, on the golden covering of which his
father—worthy of a better fate than the bloody
axe which cut the thread of so many lives
in England, through so many years—had laid
his hand.

END OF VOLUME THE FIFTH.