Part 2 (1/2)

What with Marvin's simples, my wound was fast healing, and I longed for another fray where I could use my bow at close quarters. Scarce a day pa.s.sed without one of my bolts striking the steel harness of some Carleton knight; but none found their way to armor joints; and the peasants and leather-coated men-at-arms kept well beyond a hurtful range.

One dismal morning, when a month had pa.s.sed, my heart sank, as did those of all the Mountjoys, as we made out the tall figure in black armor and the long gray beard of the Lord of Carleton, again making his rounds at the head of a group of knights and squires. Plain to see, he had recovered from his wound and was as bent as ever on Mountjoy's fall. The old Gray Wolf was hungry not only for the house and lands of Mountjoy but also for the vengeance which to him would be sweeter than all the lands of England. Now might we expect new a.s.saults, planned with their two failures in mind, and bringing to bear new plans and schemes and all their beastly hate and greed. Some of our old serving men s.h.i.+vered as they spoke of the devilish deeds of the Gray Wolf, and of the fate in store for them if the next a.s.sault should win its way.

That night, at something after ten, the weather being raw and dismal with a cold spring rain and the spirits of all the Mountjoy folk somewhat adroop, one of the archers had been sent to the cellars to draw a pitcher of ale. In a moment he came up the stairs on the run, and burst into the hall with the empty pitcher held in shaking hands and with teeth chattering with fright.

”Oh, my lady!” he said, catching for his breath, ”the Evil One hath us now, and all our doings are for naught.”

”What say'st thou, Gavin?” called his mistress, ”who tells thee tales of the Evil One?”

”'Tis-'Tis the truth,” answered poor Gavin, ”but now, in the cellars, he goes-_tap tap tap_ in the ground at one's feet. So has he come to take many a poor mortal. We be called for, and all our sins on our heads, with no holy man at hand to say him nay with book and bell.”

”Go to. Thou'rt a coward when in the dark by thy lone,” said my lady, scornfully, ”though thou fight'st well and truly with comrades at thy elbow. Marvin, if our watchers are to have their sup of ale on this raw night, thou must even draw it thyself.”

But our brave old archer, hero of a hundred battles, turned pale and answered slowly:

”Nay, my lady, it is not well for mortal men, with mayhap many a word and deed unconfessed and unpenanced, to meddle with the Powers of Darkness. For my sins I know them of old, and I dare not face them. Show me a mortal man, and I'll stand before him with whatever weapons, but not the spirits that thump on the footstones by night or twist the neck of a sleeping man with a hand not seen.”

My mother turned pale, and I could see the fringe of her sleeve barely aquiver in the candlelight. She opened her mouth to speak in reproof of Marvin; but found no words, and sat gazing toward him with wide and glistening eyes. Truth to tell, it was a fearsome thing, and for myself I had but the smallest wish to face the dungeon pa.s.sages on that black night. 'Twas not so long since I would not have faced them by my lone on the most quiet and peaceful of nights with no armed enemies within a day's journey; and a great round lump came up into my throat as I thought of it. Yet, even as we sat eying one another in fear, a thought came to my mind of the duty of a Mountjoy. 'Twas but natural that our serving men should fear the evil sprites let loose by darkness and troublous times; and e'en my mother, a fair and gracious lady, and withal none too strong of body, was not made to face such things. But I was the Heir of Mountjoy; and my father had knelt before a King of France and been made Knight of a holy order for his deeds on the Plains of Jerusalem. I started up and cried:

”Tus.h.!.+ good Marvin. Methought thee far too bold for frightening with old wives' tales. Come! I'll go before thee bearing a candle to fright away thy imaginings.”

”Spoken like a true Montmorency,” said my mother with a strange little laugh, ”truly, d.i.c.kon, thou'lt shame us all.”

Then she rose and reached to the shelf behind her for a candlestick.

”Oh, now, my lady!” cried old Dame Franklin. ”Go not to the dungeons on such a night. The men can better want their sup of ale. 'Tis an ill night for all uneasy sprites. Bide here by the fire, for soon we go to the battlements again.”

But my lady already stood with her hand on the great latch of the door at the head of the stairway which led to the donjon keep. I took my cross-bow.

”If any of the Imps of Darkness challenge us,” I said, ”I'll see whether or no they can stand before a good steel bolt.”

But even in the midst of my confident words, I had a thought anent the spectral tappings which chilled the blood in my veins. Ghostly visitants I was ready then to challenge; but I had heard my father tell how the Crusaders took one Saracen stronghold by means of a mine or tunnel, dug with weeks of toil under the walls and into the pa.s.sages of the ancient keep. Why should not the Old Wolf of Carleton have planned a like attack? During the weeks when his men had seemed so quiet and had given the Mountjoys scarcely a chance for a long bowshot, might they not have been driving such a tunnel under their very feet? Suppose that tapping that Gavin thought the work of the Evil One were the sound of the tools of the servants of one scarcely less evil and with even more cause to wish us ill!

”Come then,” said my mother, her face white but firm. Opening the great oak door, she led the way toward the dungeons.

Cross-bow in hand, I followed; and just behind me came Dame Franklin. As she moved toward the door, Old Marvin picked up his cross-bow, made sure of the poniard in his belt and followed also, mumbling the while, as best he might, the words of a Latin prayer.

We came to pause amid the stillness of the vault which was like unto that of the Mountjoy tomb at Kirkwald Abbey to which one day, with my hand tightly clasping my father's, I had paid a well remembered visit.

The candle wavered and guttered in a faint draught, and the light gleamed on the wide eyes of the old dame and the trembling hands of the archer. I was standing full still with my eyes on my mother's face. For long we stood while I could hear no sound save the beating strokes beneath my doublet. Then, suddenly, from the floor beneath or the solid wall beside us,-

Tap, tap-tap-tap tap.

No one spoke. The candle shook in my lady's hand till it threatened to fall and leave us in utter darkness. Dame Franklin and the old soldier were frozen in their places. Then again:

Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

”Oh, Mother,” I whispered, ”the pa.s.sage! The secret pa.s.sage! Our enemies have found it.”

There was another fearsome silence. Then again-Tap tap-tap-tap tap.