"Whither ride we first?"

"To my castle of Warwick, hard by. At noon to-morrow all will be
ready for our northward march."

Edward, by this time having armed himself, strode from the tent into
the open air. The scene was striking: the moon was extremely bright
and the sky serene, but around the tent stood a troop of torch-
bearers, and the red glare shone luridly upon the steel of the serried
horsemen and the banners of the earl, in which the grim white bear was
wrought upon an ebon ground, quartered with the dun bull, and crested
in gold with the eagle of the Monthermers. Far as the king's eye
could reach, he saw but the spears of Warwick; while a confused hum in
his own encampment told that the troops Anthony Woodville had
collected were not yet marshalled into order. Edward drew back.

"And the Lord Anthony of Scales and Rivers?" said he, hesitatingly.

"Choose, king, between the Lord Anthony of Scales and Rivers and
Richard Nevile!" answered Warwick, in a stern whisper.

Edward paused, and at that moment Anthony himself emerged from his
tent (which adjoined the king's) in company with the Archbishop of
York, who had rode thither in Warwick's train.

"My liege," said that gallant knight, putting his knee to the ground,
"I have heard from the archbishop the new perils that await your
Highness, and I grieve sorely that, in this strait, your councillors
deem it meet to forbid me the glory of fighting or falling by your
side! I know too well the unhappy odium attached to my House and name