Part 12 (2/2)
Poor Dame Margery set up a piteous outcry, and soon there came two or three of the neighbor folk who heard her broken tale of the encounter.
Ere night the bitter news was on every tongue within miles of DeLancey Manor; and when at dark the word went round that Margery had died also, a vengeful band soon formed itself, and those b.l.o.o.d.y deeds were done of which the earlier news had come to us.
Scarce had the DeLancey man finished his tale and been taken to his lodging where the leech should tend his hurts when a messenger rode up to our court-yard gate and demanded admittance in the name of the Lord High Constable. He brought us the news that the Constable was already in the saddle and with half a hundred lances at his back was riding to DeLancey Manor for the quelling of the mutiny and the punishment of Sir Hugh's murderers. It seemed, however, that the Lord Constable had no archers with him and feared they might be sorely needed in the fighting to come. Therefore he asked of Lord Mountjoy that he send with the messenger half a dozen mounted cross-bow men,-men who could strike a fair target at two hundred paces; and he promised to reward bountifully any such who should do the Crown good service.
At this Lord Mountjoy turned to Cedric, saying:
”Now here's the chance, Cedric, my lad, for thee to earn both gold and honor. Wilt thou pick five more Mountjoy cross-bow men and ride with them 'neath the Constable's banner?”
But with a countenance of a sudden grown something pale, Cedric made reply:
”Good my lord, I pray you lay not your commands upon me to that effect.
This expedition likes me not.”
”How now!” exclaimed my father, ”this is a new temper for thee, Cedric.
Thou'rt ever ready to be where shafts and quarrels fly. Surely thou'rt not frighted of peasants' clubs and scythes.”
”Nay, my lord. But for this fighting I have indeed no stomach, and 'tis like I should make but a poor soldier in the Constable's train. I pray you, if Mountjoy must furnish archers for this work, let some other lead them.”
My father's face grew very red. He leaned far over the table toward Cedric, and seemed about to speak full loud and angrily. Then bethinking himself, he turned again to the Constable's messenger, and said:
”Return thou to the Lord Constable with Mountjoy's compliments; and say that within the half hour six good cross-bow men will set forth from here, and will o'ertake him on the road long before he reaches DeLancey Manor.”
The messenger bowed and withdrew. Soon we heard his horse's hoofs on the drawbridge. Then Lord Mountjoy sent for one of the older of the Mountjoy archers from the court-yard below, and gave to him the commission just refused by my obstinate squire. This accomplished he turned again to Cedric, with a heavy frown on his brow, and said:
”Now tell us, if thou wilt, sirrah, why this sudden showing of the white feather. 'Tis not like thee, I'll be bound, to shrink from any fray, whether with knight or clown, or to shame me as thou hast before the Constable's messenger. What terrifies thee now in the thought of this rabble?”
”I have no fright of them, my lord. Rather I wist not to have any hand in their punishment for a deed which, lawless though it be, still had the sorest provoking.”
Lord Mountjoy gazed at the youth in amazement. My mother and I caught our breaths and one or the other of us would have interposed a word to blunt the edge of such wild-flung talk; but my father burst out again, and in a voice that echoed through the house:
”And would'st thou then let the murderers of my friend go free of punishment for that he had struck down a churl that refused him entrance to a house on his own domain?”
”The man did but defend his right,” returned the Forester, steadily.
”The house was his, against all comers, e'en his liege lord, till he had been duly dispossessed.”
Such rebel doctrine had ne'er before been heard in Mountjoy Hall. 'Twas little wonder that my father's face grew purple with wrath as he shouted:
”And where gettest thou such Jack Clown law as that? Is it from the books of chronicles thou hast learned to pore over by the hour, or from the monks at Kirkwald that lend them to thee?”
”Nay, my lord, 'tis from the ancient Saxon law that ne'er hath been abrogated in England, though many a time o'erridden. 'A freeman's house is his sole domain though it be no more than a forester's cot.'”
Lord Mountjoy had risen and now stamped back and forth.
”Ne'er abrogated, forsooth! But it well should be. This is no law or custom for the descendants of the n.o.bles that landed with William the Conqueror. 'Tis of a piece with the insolence of the churls on Grimsby's lands, who would have a magistrate of their own choosing forsooth, to try their causes withal-reaching up to s.n.a.t.c.h the reins of governing from their lawful masters. What do such clowns know of law or governing?
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