"And what, Sir John Coniers," exclaimed Robin, rudely, "what honour
had your gray hairs till the steel cap covered them? What honour, I
say, under lewd Edward and his lusty revellers? You were thrown
aside, like a broken scythe, Sir John Coniers! You were forsaken in
your rust! Warwick himself, your wife's great kinsman, could do
nought in your favour! You stand now, leader of thousands, lord of
life and death, master of Edward and the throne! We have done this
for you, and you reproach us!"

"And," began the heir of Fitzhugh, encouraged by the boldness of
Hilyard, "we had all reason to believe my noble uncle, the Earl of
Warwick, approved our emprise. When this brave fellow (pointing to
Robin) came to inform me that, with his own eyes, he had seen the
waxen effigies of my great kinsman, the hellish misdeed of the queen's
witch-dam, I repaired to my Lord Montagu; and though that prudent
courtier refused to declare openly, he let me see that war with the
Woodvilles was not unwelcome to him."

"Yet this same Montagu," observed one of the ringleaders, "when
Hilyard was well-nigh at the gates of York, sallied out and defeated
him, sans ruth, sans ceremony."

"Yes, but he spared my life, and beheaded the dead body of poor Hugh
Withers in my stead: for John Nevile is cunning, and he picks his nuts
from the brennen without lesing his own paw. It was not the hour for
him to join us, so he beat us civilly, and with discretion. But what
hath he done since? He stands aloof while our army swells, while the
bull of the Neviles and the ragged staff of the earl are the ensigns
of our war, and while Edward gnaws out his fierce heart in yon walls
of Olney. How say ye, then, that Warwick, even if now in person with