Part 3 (1/2)
De Lacey, upon hearing that his quondam friend was hurt, was so overcome by a most chivalric spirit of forgiveness that he determined to be the first to reach his side, and to offer him what relief lay within his power. Filled with this n.o.ble resolve, he hurried forward, but, unfortunately for him, he was not destined to accomplish his mission, for as he was crossing the ditch his pole snapped asunder, and he suddenly found himself located in the very centre of the rank mud d.y.k.e. There he was, and all his efforts to free himself caused him only to sink deeper and deeper.
”O, Blessed Mary, save me; save me!” he yelled out in an agony of anguish as he felt himself slowly but surely sinking; but not, apparently, feeling very much a.s.sured about the answer to his prayer, he turned from things spiritual to things visible and mortal.
”Help me; save me, George,” he cried.
Sir George Vernon was too much overcome by the ludicrous aspect of the affair to lend any a.s.sistance just then, for he well knew that two feet, if not less than that, was the excess of its depth.
”Let him alone,” he cried. ”If he had not so befuddled his head with ale he would remember as well as I do that twenty inches would reach the bottom of the mud.”
Had Lady Maude been there she would in all probability have sent her lord and master to aid the poor unfortunate, but she was safe at Haddon, and, rejoicing in his freedom from restraint, he laughed louder and louder as he watched the frantic efforts of his friend.
”Don't let me die,” pleaded poor De Lacey. ”Don't let me die like a dog. Oh, dear, I'm going, I'm going! Blessed Virgin, help me; save me!” and the old man made a last great struggle to free himself.
Manners could bear it no longer. He clearly perceived that what was fun to them was mortal terror to the pitiable object of their merriment, and, advancing to the edge of the d.y.k.e, he held out his pole at arm's length to render him what a.s.sistance he could.
”Here, take hold of it,” he cried.
Sir John endeavoured to obey the injunction, but he could not even touch it, and he sank back again in despair.
”Why, man,” laughed Sir George, ”as I'm a Vernon, you know as well as I do that thou canst never sink deep in two feet of mud.”
The words roused De Lacey to struggle to his feet and attempt to extricate himself. He staggered forward and advanced a foot or two, but the slimy mud had such a determined hold of him that he overbalanced himself, and fell forward at full length into the ditch.
This time, however, he was closer to the bank, and making another effort, he grasped the pole which was still held out to help him.
Manners leaned forward, and pulled with all his might, but for some time it was an open question whether he would go in or Sir John come out.
At this critical juncture Dorothy arrived upon the scene of the disaster. The sight of the old man's distress at once appealed to her womanly nature, and she had but to murmur a word of pity, when, in a moment, half-a-dozen knights leapt over to fulfil her unspoken wish.
With this accession of strength the captive was easily freed, and a queer figure he was. It would have been difficult for a stranger to have determined exactly what he was; for, covered as he was to the depth of several inches with black mud, he looked more like an animal of prehistoric times--such as we see represented by fossils--than any human being.
De Lacey was promptly rolled upon the turf, and the pages set to work and endeavoured to reach his person by sc.r.a.ping away the adhesive slime with the aid of sticks and stones.
”Get up, man, get up,” exclaimed Sir George. ”Here is Doll waiting to honour thee with a dance.”
Dorothy shrank back, while Sir John, utterly exhausted, sank back again helplessly upon the ground. Seeing that he was totally unable to walk of his own accord, and in too dirty a condition to lean upon anyone's arm, a rough extempore litter was made, upon which the unfortunate knight was set and carried away, loudly lamenting the unkindness of the fate which had brought him to such a sorry plight.
”And now let us see what we can do for De la Zouch,” said Sir George Vernon, and they proceeded to the spot where the injured knight was lying.
”How now, Sir Henry? What's this, any bones broken, eh? How did you do it, man; was it here?” and having delivered himself of this string of questions, the King of the Peak leaned against the wall and awaited the reply.
”More hurt than injured, I believe,” replied the other, ”but Eustace here will tell thee all about it;” and Eustace, who had carefully got the story by heart, recounted how, when they were after a fine bevy of quail, his master's pole had snapped as he was springing up, and instead of clearing the wall he had fallen heavily against it.
The pole, broken in twain, which lay upon the gra.s.s close by, attested the truth of the statement.
”Sir Benedict,” exclaimed the baron, ”thou art somewhat learned in leechcraft; see if thou canst do aught. Tell us what is amiss.”
a Woode stooped down, and after a prolonged examination he gave it as his opinion that some of his friend's ribs were broken.
Another litter was quickly made up and De la Zouch, who was now feeling the full effects of the injuries he had received, and who in reality stood in need of a.s.sistance, was placed upon it and carried off in the wake of Sir John de Lacey.