Part 10 (1/2)
”He is the Master, Hubert; and we must e'en obey. Forget not that, since the death of Lionel, young Sir Geoffrey is himself the Carleton.”
Hubert drew his dagger and came toward me. From the look on his ugly face I much mis...o...b..ed whether he meant to carry out the commands of his young master or to stab me to the heart. But he quickly cut the rope that bound my wrists, and then did a like service for Cedric.
We stood erect and made our bows before the young Lord of Carleton.
”Sir Geoffrey,” said I, slowly, ”thy house and mine have been bitter enemies; but glad am I to call thee friend. Wilt thou clasp hands in token?”
For answer his face lighted up with his most winsome smile, and he extended toward me his right hand in fellows.h.i.+p. To Cedric also he gave a clasp of such heartiness as he could compa.s.s, calling him the while brave rescuer and comrade. Then turning again to me, he said:
”Sir Richard of Mountjoy, mount this horse of Hubert's here, which I freely give thee, while Cedric rides the good steed that bore us so bravely through the forest. My men shall make for me a litter of poles, with robes and garments slung between, and bear me to Mannerley. There will I bide till my wound is healed. Say to thy father, the Lord of Mountjoy, that I renounce all the vengeance that my father and my brother swore against him, and that I extend to him also the hand of friends.h.i.+p. 'Twill please me well if, while I still lie at Mannerley, he and thou and Cedric come riding there and visit me. And so good-by with all my heart. May thou win safely home and Heaven's blessing follow thee.”
Gladly we mounted and reined our horses' heads toward home. As we left the little glade we turned for one more look at the pale youth, lying half prostrate on his couch of leaves; and our hearts did swell with gladness to know his life was safe and that no longer was he a stranger or an enemy. And once more we caught his winsome smile and the wave of his hand that bade us G.o.d speed.
CHAPTER VII-THE OUTLAWS OF BLACKPOOL
'Twas a fortnight after the fray with the outlaws on the borders of Blackpool Forest, where, all unknowing, we had saved the life of young Sir Geoffrey of Carleton, heir of the house that for so long had been our bitterest enemy, that my father and I rode with Cedric, my comrade and squire, and six stout men-at-arms over the hill road to Mannerley.
There our new-made friend, Sir Geoffrey, lay recovering from his wound.
Lord Mountjoy wore helmet and cuira.s.s; and his good two-handed broadsword swung by his side, while both Cedric and I wore s.h.i.+rts of linked mail and our followers each a quilted, shaft-proof leathern jacket. Cedric carried the cross-bow which he had often used to such good purpose, and I the sword of Damascus steel which my father had riven from a Saracen n.o.ble in the Holy Land. Withal we made a brave array on the woodland roads and one of which the boldest band of outlaws with their bows and bills and coats of Lincoln green might well beware.
But no enemy gainsaid us on the road; and at two o' the clock we rode across the drawbridge of our good friend and neighbor, the Lady of Mannerley. She bade us welcome in the courtly manner to which she was bred, and ushered us to the great hall. Geoffrey was reclining in a great chair before the fire, and rose to greet us with most joyous face.
His wound was healing fast, as we had known from the messengers who had pa.s.sed almost daily to and fro; but the young Lord of Carleton was still pale with the bloodletting, and could leave his chair no longer than the courtesy of a host demanded. As he shook hands with my father, the Lord of Mountjoy, his words of heartfelt welcome and the smile on his winsome face made amends for the weakness of his clasp; and I was filled with joy to see that my father warmed to him at once and for his sake willingly forgot the deeds of the old Gray Wolf, who had been Lord of Carleton.
When Geoffrey was again seated and we had found places on the benches around him, the Lady of Mannerley brought to us some most dainty cakes and cups of hot mulled wine, serving us with her own hands, as is the custom when guests of quality are welcomed. There ensued an hour of goodly talk, Geoffrey of Carleton plying my father with questions of that of which he loves best to speak,-the wars for the Holy Sepulcher's recovery-and Cedric and I listening or putting in our words as occasion offered. Geoffrey heard from me the tale of our archer festival and of old Marvin's and Cedric's wondrous prowess with the cross-bow. Then by degrees we came to the story of the day whereon Cedric and I and poor old William came upon the outlaw band in Blackpool that sought to kill his two retainers and make him prisoner; and we lived over again in joy the battle at the forest's edge and the b.l.o.o.d.y and desperate chase that followed.
When that tale had been fully told by us three youths, speaking sometimes in turn and sometimes, at the most perilous pa.s.sages, crying out all together what had chanced, Geoffrey turned to me to say:
”But, Sir Richard,-in the forest where I first saw thee and Cedric at the fire,-that was a most sweet ballad you did sing. Can you not raise it again? I have a great mind to hear it.”
At this, nothing loath, I turned my eyes to the rafters and began the lay. Cedric, joining in with his sweet harmonizing, did give it a grace which else it had sadly lacked; and the hall of Mannerley rang with it even as had the little glade in the wood. Lady Mannerley came again to the door of the hall, and behind her a half dozen of her maids and serving men. Geoffrey and the others loudly cried ”Encore”; and the second time my father took up the lay with us, so it went rousingly and to the delight of the whole company. When at last we ceased Geoffrey declared that the song and the gay and heartening talk withal had done for him more good than all the herbs and poultices of the leech, and that with one more day like to this he verily believed he could ride abroad whole and sound.
Our audience departed with the end of the singing; and then Lord Mountjoy spoke most seriously:
”What thou say'st, Sir Geoffrey, puts me in mind that in these rough times there is other work for us who are verily whole and sound than this chaffering and singing at a bonny fireside, most pleasant though it be. I must bestir myself to punish these greedy rascals of the greenwood that set upon to rob and murder all those that go the forest roads not armed to the teeth and in strong company. 'Tis said that this unhung varlet that so sorely beset thee hath now no less than seven score bowmen at his back. To-morrow I ride to enlist the aid of my lord of Pelham with his twenty archers, and as soon thereafter as may be to Dunwoodie of Grimsby. The good lady who is now our hostess will doubtless send some men-at-arms and foresters. We shall make up a company that can take Blackpool Wood from all its sides at once; and it shall go hard but we send a half hundred of the rogues to their reckoning.”
During this speech the eyes of the young Lord of Carleton had grown bright as with a fever; and he could hardly wait for my father to come to an end before crying out:
”Oh, good Mountjoy! My friend-if thou art my friend indeed, stay this goodly enterprise but a few short months-or weeks mayhap-and let me join with thee. This outlaw chief, whom now I learn is called the Monkslayer from certain of his b.l.o.o.d.y deeds, hath offered both injury and insult to the House of Carleton. Two of my faithful men he slew, and me he took prisoner, and would have held for high ransom, if indeed he spared my life, had it not been for Sir Richard and Cedric here and that worthy old archer of Mountjoy who met his death fighting in my behalf. Give me but two short months-I ask no more-to heal me of my wound and make some practice of arms; and I will ride with thee to the hunting of this outlaw and his band with forty men-at-arms and eight score archers from Carleton and Teramore. So shall we make short and sure work of it.”
My father gazed at the glowing face of our new-made friend; and plain it was to me that the liking he had at first conceived for the lad suffered nothing from this headlong eagerness to be up and doing with arms in his hands. Turning to Cedric and me, with a broad and happy smile, Lord Mountjoy said:
”Well, lads, 'twas your quarrel and Sir Geoffrey's at the first. What say you? Shall we risk the scattering and 'scaping of these rogues by waiting till the fall for him? For I plainly see that, with all good will, he cannot rightly ride and fight before that time in such a rough campaign as this will be.”
”Oh, let us wait, Father!” I cried, ”Sir Geoffrey hath the right in saying 'tis especially the Carleton's quarrel; and 'twill be a fine sight for all the countryside to see the banners of Mountjoy and of Carleton waving together in so good a cause after all these years of enmity. Mayhap Sir Geoffrey will return with usury the arrow-shot he had from those scurvy knaves. If so, 'twill not be an ill beginning for his career in arms.”
Cedric, who was ever of few words, nodded his head at this speech of mine; and so 'twas settled among us. Through the summer months we would strike no blow at the outlaws save in defense, but at the fall of the leaf, when the woods made not so close a cover, we would fall upon them in their fastnesses with all our forces at once, and so destroy and scatter them that the woodland roads of the whole county would be free of their kind for years to come.
A week later Sir Geoffrey took his way to his great castle at Teramore under a strong escort of Carleton men-at-arms. Ten days thereafter Cedric and I rode thither to pay a promised visit and to talk of the outlaw hunt and our great plans for the days to follow. Sir Geoffrey showed himself a most gracious host; and we pa.s.sed some goodly hours in the Carleton hall and in the courtyard where Cedric did try most manfully to impart to Geoffrey and me some measure of his cross-bow skill.