Part 6 (2/2)
”I tell thee that when thou'rt my squire indeed, and I a knight in truth, and not by courtesy only, I'll have thee ever ride beside me with thy bow upon thy back, though thou shalt wear garments of velvet instead of Lincoln green and a good broadsword shall swing by thy side. Then can we strike down any caitiff from afar, if need be. And many a night when we make bivouac in the forest or on the moorlands we shall sup right royally on the hares or moorfowl which thy skill will provide, and snap our fingers at the inns and all the houses of the towns.”
”'Tis a fair thought,” sighed Cedric. ”An oak-leaf bed in a glade, by a goodly stream, is ever more to my liking than any made in a dwelling, save in the wet or bitter weather. But, for Old Marvin now-Methinks 'twould please me well to shoot against him at archer match. Were I bested by such as he, 'twould be no honor lost.”
”By my faith!” I shouted, ”such a match we will have. 'Twill be a fair sight indeed to see two archers such as thou and Marvin at the marks.
We'll have a festival for all the friends of Mountjoy, n.o.ble and simple, and roast an ox for their regalement. Since the Shrewsbury court and the battle trial that freed thee and me from all charges of foul play in the matter of Lionel of Carleton, and now that my father is nearly well of his wounds, the Mountjoys have reason enough to rejoice. We'll have a day to be remembered.”
Just then Old Marvin, who did chop for firewood a fallen yew in the field near by, caught sight of us, and, dropping his ax, came forward to greet us.
”A fine morning for the woods, Sir d.i.c.kon,” he said, doffing his headgear to me and nodding to Cedric. ”Could not one get the leeward of a buck on such a day?”
”Aye,” I answered, full the while of my new thought, ”and if either thou or Cedric here did come within a hundred paces, we should eat on the morrow of a fair pasty of venison. But what say'st thou, Marvin to an archer match with Cedric? Thou knowest he is newly in our service, but that he hath an eye for the homing of his bolt. Of all the Mountjoy men he alone is worthy to shoot against thee.”
”Aye,” cried Marvin, eagerly. ”I have heard much of his skill. 'Tis said that for such a youth he shoots most wondrous well. For twenty years no Mountjoy hath striven with me at tourney; and a fair day at the marks would like me well. Will there be a prize, think'st thou?”
”Aye, that there will be,” I returned full gaily, for now methought the day promised such sport as we had not had for years; and I was fair lifted up with the picture of it that filled my mind. ”I'll make my father give to him who wins the day the best milch cow in all the Mountjoy barns. How likest thou that, Marvin? Could'st thou use such a beast on thy little farm?”
”Marry! Well could I,” answered Marvin, his eyes s.h.i.+ning as brightly as a youth's. ”My dame did tell me yesterday 'tis what we most do lack.”
”And I,” put in Cedric, ”should any wondrous luck or chance bring the prize to me, could give her to my father. He hath a little meadow by his cottage in Pelham Wood where a cow could find sweet pasture, and, in the cot, three little ones who'd thrive on the milk. Marvin, be sure I'll take the prize from thee if ever I can.”
”An thou winnest it, thou'lt shoot well, Cedric lad,” answered Old Marvin with a grin. ”'Tis now full many years since I found any man to best me.”
But now I caught sight of my father, Lord Mountjoy, astride the palfrey he rode in those days of recovering from the hurts he had at Shrewsbury, and riding toward the clearing on the hill where the woodmen piled the logs for our fireplace burning. I waved and beckoned to him till he paused and turned his horse's head toward us. In a moment we three stood about him and told of our plans for the archery match. Most of the words were mine, but Cedric and Old Marvin himself were not a whit less eager.
Soon I had drawn from Lord Mountjoy the promise that we should have our will, and that the archer festival should be held in the Mountjoy lands in three days' time.
But, hot and eager as I was, I noted even then a backwardness in my father's answers that puzzled me. 'Twas not like him to care for the gift of a cow or a colt to any of his faithful retainers; and I knew he loved a fair match at the targets as well as any. After we had said ”good day” to Marvin, and as Cedric and I walked down the road toward the wood on either side of his horse, Father gave utterance to his worrying thought.
”d.i.c.kon, 'tis but natural at thy years to be eager and headlong in thy thinking; but has the thought not come to thee at all that this match that thou dost plan so joyously may end in sorrow to thy old instructor in arms?”
”How so?” I questioned,-but even in the saying, I saw a glimmer of his meaning.
”For thirty years and more Old Marvin hath been leading archer of Mountjoy. He nears three score and ten; and may the saints bespeak him many years of peace after all the toils and perils he hath undergone for our house. Mayhap his eye is as clear and his hand as true as ever; but I have seen somewhat of the shooting of Cedric here; and it may be that he'll best Old Marvin at the thing which is his dearest pride. Should that happen, canst thou warrant Marvin will not carry home a bitter heart from thy festival?”
”Oh, Father! Surely thou dost jest. Marvin is no child to grieve at being beaten in fair play, should that chance befall him. I warrant we'll see never a sign of it.”
”'Tis true enough,” said my father slowly, ”we'll never see a sign of it; but the bitterness may be there ne'ertheless. But I bethink me now,-get John o' the Wallfield or some other Mountjoy archer to make a third. Then Marvin can be but second at worst, and 'twill make a fairer show for all these friends we are to bid come to our fete. John is ever a hopeful youth, and will shoot as though his life depended on it.”
Saying thus, he set spurs to his horse, and, with a nod and smile at Cedric, rode away up the forest path.
That afternoon messengers went out from the castle, to bid to the festival the tenantry and all the friends of Mountjoy for ten miles 'round; and an ox was slain for the roasting.
Three days later, on another perfect morn without cloud or breath of wind, there a.s.sembled in Yew Hedge Meadow, a furlong from the Mountjoy gate, a concourse which might have graced a tournament. The Pelhams were there and the Leicesters and even a half dozen of the Montmorencys, my mother's kin from Coventry. The yeomanry of the Mountjoy lands had come, e'en to the last man and maid and child, and nigh two hundred of the neighbor folk from Pelham Manor, Leicester and Mannerley. The gentry were gathered on some rows of benches, covered with gay-colored robes, which had been placed on a little hillock at the left; and the commoners stood or walked about on the good brown sward, having many a gay crack and jest between them, and enjoying, methought, a better view of the archery than their betters on the higher ground.
<script>