Such was not the thought
of their leader. For the first time in his career he found himself face
to face with a hostile army. He could plot, could win friends by his
engaging manners, could do anything but fight. But now that the critical
moment had come he found that he lacked courage. Perhaps this had as
much as compassion to do with his former retreat to Scotland. It is
certain that the sight of grim faces and brandished arms before him
robbed his heart of its bravery. Mounting a swift horse, he fled in the
night, followed by about threescore others. In the morning his men found
themselves without a leader. Having nothing to fight for, they
surrendered. Some few of the more desperate of them were hanged. The
others were pardoned and permitted to return.
No sooner was the discovery made that the White Rose had taken to the
winds than horsemen were sent in speedy pursuit, one troop being sent to
St. Michael's Mount to seize the Lady Catharine, and a second troop of
five hundred horse to pursue the fugitive pretender, and take him, if
possible, before he could reach the sanctuary of Beaulieu, in the New
Forest, whither he had fled. The lady was quickly brought before the
king. Whether or not he meant to deal harshly with her, the sight of her
engaging face moved him to compassion and admiration.
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