_A CONTEST FOR A CROWN._


Terrible was the misery of England. Torn between contending factions,
like a deer between snarling wolves, the people suffered martyrdom,
while thieves and assassins, miscalled soldiers, and brigands, miscalled
nobles, ravaged the land and tortured its inhabitants. Outrage was law,
and death the only refuge from barbarity, and at no time in the history
of England did its people endure such misery as in those years of the
loosening of the reins of justice and mercy which began with 1139
A.D.

It was the autumn of the year named. At every port of England bands of
soldiers were landing, with arms and baggage; along every road leading
from the coast bands of soldiers were marching; in every town bands of
soldiers were mustering; here joining in friendly union, there coming
into hostile contact, for they represented rival parties, and were
speeding to the gathering points of their respective leaders.

All England was in a ferment, men everywhere arming and marching. All
Normandy was in turmoil, soldiers of fortune crowding to every port,
eager to take part in the harrying of the island realm. The Norman
nobles of England were everywhere fortifying their castles, which had
been sternly prohibited by the recent king. Law and authority were for
the time being abrogated, and every man was preparing to fight for his
own hand and his own land. A single day, almost, had divided the Normans
of England into two factions, not yet come to blows, but facing each