Part 16 (1/2)
”He that plundered the chapel at Ravenstone?”
”The same. He would steal the pennies from the eyes of the dead, if no avenger were by. But 'tis spite rather than greed that prompts him in this matter of my friend. Some years ago, when we were all lads together, young Bardolph, who is the son of an innkeeper at Rothwell, came riding past Birkenhead with some village comrades of his. In a foolish attempt at wit, he cast some foul insult at Wilfrid who stood by the way, watching them pa.s.s. In an instant, Wilfrid had s.n.a.t.c.hed him from the saddle and rolled him well in a puddle of mud that chanced to be at hand, so that Bardolph rode home at last a sorry spectacle indeed.
That day he ne'er forgot, it seems, and only now has found an opportunity for vengeance. He hath been given the charge of the work at Kimberley where Prince John plans to enlarge and strengthen the fortress and fill it with a numerous garrison. He hath need of many cattle for the work of hauling the stone and timber; and though we are not now at war, and there can be seen no pressing need for haste, he seizes the horses and oxen from the farmers roundabout and drives the work as though the Scotch and Welsh were o'er the borders both at once. With this excuse he seized the yoke cattle at Birkenhead.”
”But Birkenhead is full five leagues from Kimberley.”
”Aye, and that it is that shows the act was done with malice and with none of necessity. A hundred farms were nearer to the castle, and some of them might far better spare their oxen. 'Twas in the thick of harvest too. Thou knowest how the rains have held it back till it seems that the snows may cover the uncut grain if the farmers make not haste. But Wilfrid made s.h.i.+ft to go on with his hauling in some sort. He put to the yoke a pair of half-broke steers that should not have worked till the spring, and with half loads was bringing his crops to barn and stack.
Then what did Bardolph do but come again, with two soldiers at his back, and make demand of Wilfrid for these cattle also.”
”The hound! I would I had been there to tell him straight what manner of cur he is.”
”There was no need for that. Wilfrid forthwith flew into such a rage as drove from him all fear of what might betide. First he shouted at the bailiff some most naked truths as to his character and doings, then he rushed upon him, and, warding off a sword blow, pulled him from his horse, even as he had done that other time, and ere the soldiers could interfere had broken Bardolph's nose with one great blow from his fist.”
”Oh Saints above! Did he so indeed? There's a yeoman for thee of the sort that win England's battles. I would we _had_ him under Mountjoy banner. But what next occurred?”
”The soldiers had leaped from their horses as soon as the bailiff went down, and both together they seized Wilfrid and overthrew and bound him fast. Then, las.h.i.+ng him on the back of a horse, they set out for Kimberley, with he of the broken nose riding close behind, shedding a stream of blood and furious oaths. The neighbor folk say that over and over again he swore that young Birkenhead should never leave Kimberley alive.”
”By'r Lady!” I cried, ”there's naught to prevent him making good his threats. He is in command at Kimberley now that the Sheriff hath left for the North.”
Cedric nodded sadly.
”'Tis so. He dares not put him to death openly, but he may starve him in his cell and report that he died of a sickness. And if the Sheriff returns, I doubt of much betterment for one in Wilfrid's plight. Thou knowest well that throughout England at this moment there are lying in dungeons, with chains on their limbs, full many honest men who are as innocent of any crime as thou or me.”
”I know it well indeed. And of these there are many as to whom their very jailers know not the charge against them, for their accusers are long ago dead. 'Tis a hard world we live in, Cedric; but I see not how we may better it.”
Cedric sprang up and faced me with high-held head and blazing eyes.
”Sir Richard, if thou'lt help me, we _may_ better this hard world for one luckless man. It has come to me how we may take Wilfrid of Birkenhead from the very walls of Kimberley.”
”Help thee? My word upon it, I _will_ help thee if it can be done at all. Say on.”
”My thought is this,” answered Cedric quickly, whilst tears of joy sprang to his eyes at my hearty seconding, ”one that came from Kimberley even as we talked at my father's to-day hath told us that Wilfrid is confined not in the castle dungeons, since those are in some way concerned in the present changes, but in a strong room in the tower, some forty feet above the moat. The window is not barred, since the apartment was never meant to serve for prison; but the wall is sheer below it to the cliff that steeply slopes from thence to the moat.
'Twould be sure death to fling one's self down, since the rock at the base is after all too wide to be pa.s.sed by a leap from the window. But with a stout rope now, and with friends on the farther side with horses not far off-”
”But the sentries on the battlements would surely spy him as he descended.”
”Not on a moonless night, and especially if he knew the moment when the sentry had just pa.s.sed overhead and therefore would not soon return.
'Tis a desperate thing, I own; but believe me, Sir Richard, we shall not fail. Already I see the way to take the rope and our messages to Wilfrid in his cell. There is a group of trees which in the last score of years while the castle has been little used as a stronghold, has been allowed to grow on the hither side of the moat, just opposite the tower. There we will hide and do our part in the venture. To-morrow night will be moonless. What sayest thou?”
The next day at noon, soon after Bardolph of the Broken Nose had ridden away from Kimberley on some necessary errand, a stout old monk, in the flowing robe of his order, with hood and cowl closely drawn about his face, and bearing a basket on his arm, appeared at the gate of Kimberley. He wished to see the prisoner, Wilfrid, and to bear to him the consolations of religion and also some articles of food which friends of his had prepared. The clerkly youth who seemed in authority in the absence of the bailiff was much in doubt as to the wisdom of permitting any such entry, and, indeed, at first refused. But the good monk fairly overwhelmed him with quotations from the Scripture and the writings of the Holy Fathers relative to his duty to visit those who were sick or in prison, and quoted so many Latin texts that the youth was soon fairly bewildered and overcome. Stipulating only that the basket be left below, since the bailiff had given strict orders that no food was to be taken to the prisoner by any save himself, he led the way up the tower stairs, and unlocking the heavy oaken door, admitted the monk to the room where Birkenhead was confined.
In another quarter of an hour the monk had departed as he came, taking up his basket again at the gateway and leaving with the chatelaine his heartiest blessing. To me, who had been anxiously watching from one of the village houses, a furlong from the walls, it seemed that he walked with much firmer and more vigorous step as he returned o'er the drawbridge than he had when first he crossed it. But if this were so, none in the castle seemed to remark it-at any rate the monk's departure was not interrupted, and he pa.s.sed out of the village, looking neither to the right nor the left.
Soon after, I followed and overtook him after he had entered a thick copse of yew and hazel half a mile away. Beneath that leafy screen, Cedric flung off the monkish gown and hood, dropped the basket on the ground, and stood gazing at it gloomily.
”Sir Richard,” he said at length, ”Wilfrid of Birkenhead hath been for three days close shut in that tower room, and no least morsel of food hath been given him. Bardolph verily means to compa.s.s his death by starving.”