So I quitted those parts, for I feared my own resolution near so great a man; I made a new home not far from the city of York.

So, Adam, when all the land around bristled with pike and gisarme, and while my own cousin and namesake, the head of my House, was winning laurels and wasting blood--I, thy quarrelsome, fighting friend--lived at home in peace with my wife and child (for I was now married, and wife and child were dear to me), and tilled my lands.

But in peace I was active and astir, for my words inflamed the bosoms of labourers and peasants, and many of them, benighted as they were, thought with me.

One day--I was absent from home, selling my grain in the marts of York--one day there entered the village a young captain, a boy-chief, Edward Earl of March, beating for recruits.

Dost thou heed me, Adam?
Well, man--well, the peasants stood aloof from tromp and banner, and they answered, to all the talk of hire and fame, 'Robin Hilyard tells us we have nothing to gain but blows,--leave us to hew and to delve.' Oh, Adam, this boy, this chief, the Earl of March, now crowned King Edward, made but one reply, 'This Robin Hilyard must be a wise man,--show me his house.' They pointed out the ricks, the barns, the homestead, and in five minutes all--all were in flames.