The lust of power and of supremacy had begun to pave the way for the civil war which was soon to devastate the land.

The sword had already been drawn at St.Albans, and the hearts of many men were full of foreboding as they thought upon the perilous times in which they lived; though others were ready to welcome the strife which promised plunder and glory and fame to those who should distinguish themselves by prowess in field or counsel in the closet.
The gentle Lady Stukely, however, was not one of these.

Her heart sank sometimes when she heard the talk of her bold husband and warlike sons.

They had all three of them fought for the king at the first battle, or rather skirmish, at St.Albans four years before, and were ardent followers and adherents of the Red Rose of Lancaster.

Her husband had received knighthood at the monarch's hands on the eve of the battle, and was prepared to lay down his life in the cause if it should become necessary to do so.
But if rumours of strife to come, and terrible pictures of bloodshed, sometimes made her gentle spirit quail, she had always one consolation in the thought that her youngest child, her little Paul, would not be torn from her side to follow the bloody trail of war.