 Chapter 9 of Cedric the Forester, by Bernard Gaye Marshall, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain, Recording by Lynette Calkins, Monument, Colorado. CHURL AND OVERLORD It was a year and more after the overthrow of the monkslayer in Blackpool Forest and the killing or scattering of most of his band, that my father, the Lord of Mountjoy, with my lady mother and myself, and Cedric the Forester, now my accredited squire, sat one day in the Hall of Mountjoy talking of the news that had that day come in. There had been, it seemed, a most desperate and bloody revolt of the churls on the lands of Sir Hugh Delancey, some ten leagues to the south of us. A hundred or more of the peasantry, with some apprentices and hangers on at the village, armed with axes, clubs and sids, had taken the manor by surprise in the night, killed Sir Hugh and half a dozen of his men in the hall, driven out the lady, then sacked the place and burnt it to the ground. We were fair horror struck at such lawless and brutal doings, and for a time we vied with one another in calling vengeance down on the leaders of that guilty crew and in plans for assisting in their punishment. But in the midst of this an archer came from the courtyard with the word that one of Sir Hugh's men at arms, who had been wounded in the onslaught, had managed to get him to horse and away after the death of his master, and was even now at the gate asking the hospitality of Mountjoy. My father at once gave orders for his welcome, and soon the man who, after all, had escaped with wounds of no great moment, was sitting at our board with meat and drink before him. When his hunger and thirst were abated, he told us the tale of the churl's revolt in a somewhat different seeming. Sir Hugh Delancey, though a loyal follower of the king, a resolute punisher of outlawry, and oft a comrade of my fathers at the joust's and in the battle-line, had been a hard master to all his men in kitchen and hall, and a heavy-handed overlord to the peasantry about him. Many a one had muttered curses after him when his back was turned, but he was ever quick with riding-whip, or oak and cudgel at need, so that almost none dared gaince him. Now it seemed that but the day before he had sent his steward to the cottage of Oswald, a farmer of his domain, to say that Oswald was to make ready to receive for the night two of the grooms of Lord Westerby, who were to accompany their master on a two-days deer-hunt in Sir Hugh's forests. By ill hap it chanced that Dame Marjorie, Oswald's wife, was ill a bed at the time, and appeared to be nigh unto her death, and Oswald sent back the word to his master that on this account he could not receive the two men that were to be quartered on him. The steward, however, held an old grudge against Oswald, and so returning to his master spoke but the half of Oswald's answer, saying only that the farmer refused to have the grooms in his cottage. When Sir Hugh heard this, he flew into a rage, called for his horse and rode to Oswald's door, followed at a little distance by this retainer who now told us the tale. Arrived before the cottage door, he drew his sword, and taking it by the blade, pounded with my emain with the butt on the panel. Oswald came forth and, angered by this unseemly noise at the door of what would soon be a house of mourning, spoke roughly to his liege lord, requesting him to withdraw and leave the dying in peace. Sir Hugh's own collar was so high that tis doubtful if he sensed the meaning of Oswald's words, for he answered with a command to throw the door wide, as he would take the cot forthwith to stable his horse within, and it should be seen who was master on the lands of Delancey. Oswald stood immovable, and, as the night advanced on him, laid hold of a firewood stick to dispute his way. At this, Sir Hugh struck right madly with the weapon which he still held by the blade. By a most unhappy chance the broadsword hilt came down, full force, upon the farmer's temple, and in an instant he was stretched dead at the feet of his master. Then Sir Hugh took horse again and rode back to the manor. Poor Dame Marjory set up a piteous outcry, and soon there came two or three of the neighbor folk who heard her broken tale of the encounter. Air night the bitter news was on every tongue within miles of Delancey Manor, and when it dark the word went round that Marjory had died also, a vengeful band soon formed itself, and those bloody 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 courtyard 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 Delances 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 crossbow men, men who could strike a fair target at two hundred paces, and he promised to reward bountifully any man 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 honour. Wilt thou pick five more Mountjoy crossbow 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 not lay your commands upon me to that effect. This expedition likes me not. How now? cried my father. This is a new temper for thee, Cedric, thou art ever ready to be where shafts and quarrels fly. Surely thou art not frightened of peasants' clubs and sids? 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 towards Cedric and seemed about to speak full, loud, and angrily. Then, be thinking 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 crossbow men will set forth from here, and will overtake him on the road long before he reaches Delancey Manor. The messenger bowed and withdrew. Soon we heard his horse's hooves on the drawbridge. Then Lord Mountjoy sent for one of the older of the Mountjoy archers from the courtyard 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'st sirrah, why this sudden showing of the white feather, tis not like thee I'll be bound to shrink from any fray, whether with night 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 soarest 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 wouldst 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, in his leech-lord, till he had been duly dispossessed. Such rubble doctrine had never before been heard in Mountjoy Hall. It was little wonder that my father's face grew purple with wrath as he shouted. And where get is thou such jet-clown law as that? Is it from the books of chronicles thou hast learned to pour 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 Nair hath been abrogated in England, though many a time or a ridden. A free man'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. Nair abrogated forsooth, but it well should be. This is no law or custom for the descendants of the nobles that landed with William the Conqueror. Tis of a peace with the insolence of the churls on Grimsby's lands, who would have a magistrate of their own choosing foresooth to try their causes with all, reaching up to snatch the reins of governing from their lawful masters. What do such clowns know of law or governing? When did ever such make shift to guide or protect a state? Those same chronicles, my lord, of which you spoke but now, tell us of a republic of Rome where commoners ruled the city and that the city grew so great in power as to rule half the world and more. My father gazed grimly at the youth who dared thus to question his wisdom. But for the moment he had not to say, and Lady Mountjoy seized the chance to exclaim, Oh, in these chronicles there is bonny tale of the saving of the city by the voice of geese, I will fetch them and read it you. Lord Mountjoy, not thus to be put aside, made an impatient gesture and was about to take up again the argument when a knock was heard on the door of the hall and the maid announced that old Marvin the archer craved speech with Lord Mountjoy. Glad enough was I to see him admitted, for this quarrel that had flamed up so suddenly between my father and my friend and squire was a bitter thing to me and to my lady mother. More than once had Cedric saved my life in battle and skirmish, and Lord Mountjoy himself had stood forth as his champion when King Henry condemned Cedric to be hanged for the killing in a fair fight of young Lionel of Carlton. Of all the Mountjoy retainers Cedric had the steadiest hand and the clearest head. I had often prophesied that unless I rose in honors and preferment faster than I could rightly expect I should not long be able to retain such a youth as a simple squire. But now I seemed like to lose him before ever my spurs had been won and he to part from us in bitterness. As Cedric was the most valued among the younger retainers of our house so was old Marvin, the crossbow man, among the elders who had followed first my grandfather, then my father to the wars. His wondrous skill with his weapon had done yeoman service on many a field and finally had struck down the old gray wolf Lord Carlton in the midst of the desperate assault he made on the walls of Mountjoy. For two years now Marvin and his good wife had enjoyed the cottage and six acres of the millfield where we hoped he might have many years of peace as some measure of requital for a lifetime of toil and danger. It was not likely that Lord Mountjoy in the angry mood of the moment would have admitted any other of his followers but Marvin was a man of honor and privilege in Mountjoy Hall. As soon as Marvin had entered my mother rose and, calling Cedric to her, found some duty upon which to employ him so that he left the hall and was seen no more till late at night. Meanwhile the old archer had explained to us that a message had just come to him from his brother who was a forester on the lands of Lord Morton, a day's journey to the north. Marvin had not seen his brother for twenty years and when last they parted it was in some coldness but now the other, who was a few years older than Marvin, was lying sick in his cottage at Morton and asked his brother to come to him that they might be reconciled ere he died. He offered if Marvin would come and stay with him to the end to settle upon him as his heir any goods or savings he might have. Marvin now craved Leave to join a merchant's caravan which was just setting forth in that direction that he might comply with his brother's last request. On hearing Marvin through my father instantly gave his Leave and ordered furthermore that a good horse from the Mountjoy stables be placed at his disposal. Thereupon our faithful old retainer bade us a hasty goodbye for the caravan was already on the road and we wished him a safe return. My mother and I did hope and plan that Lord Mountjoy might easily forget the dispute he had with Cedric and to that end found means to keep Cedric busily employed throughout the following morning and at the midday meal did turn the talk toward the great tournament that was soon to be held at Shrewsbury. But some imp of mischief had his way at last for at mid-afternoon my father entered the hall and found Cedric by the fireside deep in the great book of Chronicles. This was enough to bring to mind the heresies that Cedric had found therein and in a moment all the anger of the day before flamed up again. Soon Lord Mountjoy was shouting in his wrath declaring that the nation went to the dogs where curs and clowns were not duly subject to their lawful masters and that if Cedric would mend his fortunes he must first cast out such folly from his mind. Cedric replied in lower tones indeed but by no means meekly, upholding what he called the rights of English freemen to household and to peaceable assembly and to trial when accused by juries of their peers. At last my father checked his speaking and said slowly and in cold anger, I tell thee, sirrah, that men thy clownish ways of thinking if art to remain in Mountjoy Hall will have no rebel firebrands, no alehouse ranters with their crazy mouthings, stirring up our yeomanry through thee. While I hold the fee of Mountjoy every manjack in cot or in castle must be a loyal subject of the king and of his liege, Lord. At this my squire made a low bow and said, I thank you then my lord for all your kindness and will say farewell. I can say not but the truth for either friend or foe. Cedric cried my mother, thou counts not mean it, think what Mountjoy means to thy fortunes and think again of the good will we all bear thee. Say to Lord Mountjoy that these were but thoughtless words and be our man again. Cedric shook his head but trusted not his voice to speak. There at my father drew from his pouch a purse of gold and offered him. Thou hast given the Mountjoy right loyal service, take this in token. But Cedric again shook his head. Nay, my lord, such service as I gave was not for gold and I cannot receive it. With your leave I will take the steed that was the Carlton's and since called mine and ride away from Mountjoy where my words and thoughts are dangerous. More talk there was and further urgings from my mother and from me but Cedric's will remained unmoved. Lord Mountjoy paced back and forth before the hearth with hands clasped behind his back and with a deeply furrowed brow. The forester bowed low again and left the hall and soon thereafter we heard the tramp of his horse on the drawbridge. Then I took me to the battlements and watched my loyal squire and comrade till his figure grew dim and disappeared on the road that lay to the south and east toward Londontown. Three mournful days went by. Word came that the peasantry of Delancey Manor had been herded up by the constable and his lancers and that two of the ring-leaders had been hanged. Although my father gave the messenger who brought this news a broad piece of gold it seemed to bring him but little cheer to know that the slayers of his friend had met their punishment. There was but little talk in Mountjoy Hall. The rain fell dismally without. The days were dark and cold and in our good log fire seemed powerless to brighten them. Then came, hard-writing, a messenger from the Lord of Morton. He bore a letter from his lordship to my father and filled it was with direful news. Old Marvin of Mountjoy had been sorely wounded at Morton in some fray for which Lord Morton blamed no other than his own son who, it seems, had perished in the fighting. Lord Morton wrote in noble fashion of his grief that our retainer should have come to harm through any of his house and said that Marvin had the best of care at Morton and that so soon as he should be sufficiently recovered he should be born to Mountjoy in the litter and that all of the goods of his brother, who had lately died should be honorably bestowed upon him. The letter was brief with all and when my father had finished reading it to us we yet remained sore puzzled at this happening. We turned again to the old serving man who had brought the message and him, Lord Mountjoy, questioned sharply, "'Nost thou ought of this affair, my man? Save what is set forth in this letter?' "'I, my lord,' he answered heavily. "'Much of this sad work I saw. "'Twas an ill time indeed, for my lord of Morton is far gone in years and now this misfortune hath robbed him of his only son in air. "'Tell us of it, I pray thee,' said my father eagerly, "'if so be thou canst do so with full loyalty to thy house.' "'Nay, my lord Morton conceals not. "'It was Sir Boris, his son, that was to blame, and he denies it not. "'Lord Morton is an upright man and a just, "'but for years he hath tried in vain to curb the wildness of young Sir Boris. "'Drink and dice have been the young lord's ruin as of many a better man before. "'Only a fortnight since Lord Morton forbade him on pain of his worst displeasure "'to bring any dice, those tools of the devil, into Morton Hall. "'More than that he drove from the very door two of the young bloods from Shrewsbury "'who had been the young lord's boon companions in drinking and gaming. "'But how did this touch our Marvin? "'He was not lodged in Morton Hall, I tro. "'Nay, my lord, Marvin came three days ago to the cottage in Morton Wood "'other the forester lay in his last illness. "'Twas none too soon in faith, for hardly more than a day later "'old Gilbert breathed his last. "'That was toward Sundown, and Marvin, who had been joined by some stranger lad, "'prepared to spend one more night in the cottage to look after his brother's body, "'which they planned to bury on the morrow. "'This I knew for my lord Morton had sent me there for word of the forester "'and I brought back the news to the hall. "'A little later I had commands from young Cerborus to join him in his hunting lodge "'in the wood, for that he should meet some friends there in the evening "'and I should wait on them with food and drink. "'I well knew that this was but a trick to set up not the orders of my lord Morton, "'and now I have sorrow that I did not instantly acquaint him with it. "'But Cerborus was a willful man and very ill to oppose, "'so I obeyed him, thinking that it was better there should be at the lodge "'one man at least, of sober head than that the party should be served "'by some of our young kitchen-naves who think of not themselves "'but drink and lawless living. "'But alas, that night's revel was far worse than ever I had thought. "'There was young Damien of Lancaster, Sir Henry Walcott, "'and Guy de Montalvin, roistering and dissolute blades all of them, "'and two or three more whose names I knew not. "'I had brought a fair venison pasty to the lodge, "'but for this they cared nothing. "'Twas the love of drink and gaming that brought them there, "'and the fires were scarce lighted, and the table-spread ere they had broached "'a cask of wine, and the dice were rattling on the boards. "'Their gaming soon was fast and furious, and the stakes grew ever higher. "'Young Boris at first won nearly every cast till his pouch was bulging "'with gold pieces, but by ten o'clock his luck had turned "'and he lost and lost. "'All his winnings went. "'Then all the gold he had or could borrow. "'Next he wagered the suit of armour which had been his father's gift "'when he was knighted, then the great white horse "'which bore him in the tourney. "'In another hour all of these were lost, "'and young Guy de Montalvin was richer far than ere he had deserved. "'By now all of them were much the worse for wine, "'and when Sir Boris wished to continue the play when he had not "'more to wager they disputed him with oaths. "'Then my young master bethought him for a space "'wiltst the others played on regardless. "'At last he burst out with a shout. "'I know the whereabouts of gold that is of right the Mortons. "'Gilbert, the old churl, who was our forester, "'hath died this day. "'At his cot he had, I doubt not, store of gold pieces "'by which my father and I have given him from time to time. "'Now I have a need of them, "'and will proceed to take what is mine own. "'Who follows me?' "'There were shouts and laughter at this "'and clapping of hands. "'Sir Boris started up and, sword in hand, ran out the door. "'Then before I could say or do ought to stay them, "'the whole rioting crew had seized cloaks and weapons "'and were streaming forth into the forest "'on the way to Gilbert's cottage. "'I left the lodge and ran with all my might "'along the path to the castle to arouse Lord Morton, "'but was half a mile and more, "'and when I reached there my master was deep in sleep. "'He roused him up at once, "'and soon, with half a dozen stout men at arms at his back, "'was running through the wood "'to put a stop to those mad do-ings. "'But a lack a day. "'He was too late to do ought "'but view the scene of ruin and dishonor to his house, "'to gather up the bodies of the slain "'and those who lay in wounds and blood. "'The rest of the tale I had from Old Marvin himself "'as I tended to him but yesterday, "'and piteous it was, not for him only, "'who will recover of his hurts, "'but for all of us who loved the name and fame of Morton. "'Twas near midnight when he and the stranger youth "'who were lying on the floor, "'covered with their cloaks, "'were roused by blows of sword-hills "'and by shouts and drunken yells. "'The body of Old Gilbert lay upon the bed "'and doubtless this din and cursing at such a time "'struck horribly on Marvin's ears. "'Who art thou, and what wilt thou have?' he shouted. "'Sir Boris of Morton,' came the answer. "'Get up, thou churl, and open the door. "'Not for thee nor any man in such guise as this. "'Nost thou not that Gilbert, the forester, lieth dead here? "'Go thy ways, I pray thee, and leave this house in peace.' "'But at this there were more yells and calls "'and louder smiting on the door. "'Then spake the stranger youth. "'Go thy ways, who are ye be? "'We be two armed men, and will suffer none "'to enter here this night.' "'Well unbravely spoken,' exclaimed my father. "'Twas a well-born youth, I warrant thee.' "'Nay,' answered the old servant. "'He wore the hot and gray. "'But gentle or simple, "'he soon was forced to make good his words "'or swallow them, for my young master and his crew "'withdrew them for a brief space. "'Then came rushing altogether, bearing a huge log "'which they employed for a battering-ram. "'At the very first thrust it broke down the cottage door "'with a horrid crash. "'Then, those that bore it, "'instantly drew swords and pognards "'and essayed to enter in its wake. "'Old Marvin, it seemed, had his crossbow ready drawn, "'and he shot young Montauvan through the face "'at the first onslaught. "'The stranger youth fought with broadsword, "'and well and truly, too. "'He had at first some vantage in the shadow in which he stood, "'but soon the rioters were all round him. "'He felled one of them with his very first stroke, "'but then Cerborus came opposite him, "'striking and cursing like a madman. "'Marvin was overthrown and sorely wounded, "'and still the youth fought on "'be set by four of his enemies at once. "'In a moment he had thrust Cerborus "'cleaned through the body, "'and an instant after fell wounded to the death.' "'Oh! By all the saints!' cried Lord Montjoy. "'In hot and gray, says Thou? "'I warrant was a disguise "'in that he was of noble strain. "'He could not have better died, "'had he been a Huntingdon or a Montmorency. "'During this recital my mother's face "'had grown white as wax. "'Now she asked in halting whispers "'amid gasps for breath that came near to being sobs. "'Has Thou no word of his name and degree?' "'Name, my lady,' replied the old servant, "'save that Marvin seemed to know him "'and called him Cedric. "'Cedric!' cried my mother and I at once "'while my father turned deadly pale "'and sat down heavily on a bench nearby. "'Cedric!' I shouted again. "'Tis Cedric of Montjoy none other. "'Then my father found voice, "'the low, weak voice, one scarce to be heard indeed. "'This is a judgment on me for my harshness. "'Cedric was right indeed. "'I see it clearly now that tis our own old Marvin "'whose rites were trampled on "'by those who called him Churl and Barlet. "'And what a battle the lad did make. "'And how he fell, like a prince of the blood, "'be set by Ruffians. "'Oh, did he live to speak any words of farewell, "'to speak any message with Marvin or any other?' "'I know not, my lord,' replied the old serving man. "'When I left Morton Hall this morning, "'Twas said that he still breathed "'but that he could scarcely last the day. "'My father started up "'and gave a furious pull to the bell-cord. "'The clanger thus provoked "'sent the chief of our serving men hurrying in. "'Tell the grooms to saddle Caesar,' "'shouted Lord Montjoy, "'and call Broderick and say "'that he and six armed mounted men "'and me. I ride at once to Morton. "'And I also,' I cried, "'Galvin, tell the grooms to make ready "'the black mare that I rode yesterday. "'And my horse also,' "'should my mother the instant I was done, "'I, too, will ride to Morton. "'Twas fifteen leagues to Morton Hall "'and much of the road was rough and wild "'with many a stony hill to climb "'and to many a stream to ford. "'The half of the journey "'we made by the light of the great round harvest moon "'that scented silvered rays nearer "'level through the forest. "'Hard we rode indeed, "'and with little mercy on our mounts, "'and was scarce four hours after we left "'Mountjoy when, piloted by the old Morton serving men, "'we dismounted before the door "'of Gilbert's cottage. "'Praise be to the Saints! "'We were not too late for Cedric lay within, "'still breathing, though with closed eyes "'and with face of deathly paleness. "'Old Marvin lay on another couch hard by, "'and a leech and a nursing woman from Morton Hall "'were with him. "'Marvin greeted us gladly "'and seemed not surprised at our coming. "'His voice roused Cedric, "'and he looked upon us with knowing eyes "'and weakly uttered words of welcome. "'Lord Mountjoy knelt on the ground at his side "'and clasped his hand. "'Cedric,' he whispered painfully, "'can't stop or give me my words of harshness "'and my driving the forth from thy home. "'Then a smile of great content "'or spread my comrade's face. "'His eyes grew brighter "'and a faintly ruddy color came to his cheeks. "'Lord Mountjoy,' he said, "'and his voice was far stronger than before. "'I freely forgive you "'for any trifling slights you have offered. "'I pray you make not too much of them.' "'Thou worked right, after all, "'went on, Lord Mountjoy. "'In holding to the rights "'thy father's had of old. "'I should well have known "'a breeder of trouble in the house of thy friends. "'Now would I give half of my lands "'to have thee back, well and sound, "'at Mountjoy Hall. "'Then Cedric smiled again, now broadly, as of old. "'No such price as that shall you pay, my lord, "'for something which shall be granted "'without price whatsoever. "'I have two deep wounds, foresooth. "'But little thought of dying, "'the good leech here knows not "'of the strength that a plain living forester "'can muster when his friends come "'all these leagues to bid him be of good cheer. "'I will ride again beneath the Mountjoy Manor, my lord, "'and that before the spring. "'At that, all three of us that had "'before knelt dry-eyed before his couch "'began weeping copiously for very joy, "'and old Marvin, from his bed, "'offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. "'The leech now came forward, "'and closely noting the change in Cedric's face, "'added his assurance to the stricken youth's "'own testimony. "'Two hours later we came softly "'from the cottage where both our faithful men "'lay soundly sleeping. "'Into the forest the leech followed us "'to say that now the worst was passed, "'and that he doubted not their full recovery.'" End of CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 OF CEDRIC THE FORESTER BY BERNARD GAY MARSHALL This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Lynette Calkins Monument, Colorado CHAPTER 10 THE PASS OF THE EGALS On a breezy autumn morning, while we made practice of arms in the courtyard, a herald from Delacy, the Lord High Constable, rode over Mount Joy Dropridge. He had an urgent message for my father, and the like for Sir Geoffrey, the young lord of Carlton, Sir James Dunwoody of Grimsby, and all the other loyal knights and barons of our neighborhood. The Welsh had broken over the border once more, and under Rhys, their barbarous chief who styled himself king of Wales, were burning and ravaging through the western marches. Many miles of fair and fruitful land they had overrun, and now they lay before Wallingham, threatening that goodly fortress and all of those who had taken refuge within it with fire and sword. The army of the Welsh was five thousand strong. They had driven the garrison of Wallingham within walls at once, and had they been as skilled in the use of manganelles and other engineering of siege as they were with the swords and javelins of their ancient custom, they would ere this have breached or scaled the walls and given the place over to Massacre and the torch. But Stoutster Philip D'Corsi still stood at bay, and now Delacy was arming for his relief. The Constable had but five hundred horsemen, and of these seven-score male clad knights, the young king, Richard the Lion-hearted, so lately crowned, was gathering for the crusade a vast array of the chivalry of England, and this left our western marches but lightly defended. So the Lord Constable was sending messengers far and wide, calling to his standard the knights and barons of the western counties with all the mounted men that at a day's notice they could muster. Delacy had many times before met and scattered the bands of Welsh marauders. Now he meant to deliver such a blow as should break their power forever. He had sworn to drive them not only from the plain of Wallingham, but across the marches and into their mountain fastnesses and to harry and slay them till not a score of the robbers remained under the skull-bone banner of their chief. To this end he would accept no foot-soldiers even as archers. His whole force must be mounted in order that the Welsh on their tough little mountain horses might not escape as they had done after many another bloody raid. On the following day they're gathered under the Constable's banner at Hereford, such an array of chivalry as I had there before seen. Four hundred male-clad knights were there, and near a thousand men at arms in good steel caps and braced and quilted leather jackets and bearing the stout shields and heavy broadswords of their trade. Then there were twelve hundred and more of archers, mostly armed with crossbows, but some with long bows and cloth-yard shafts, some having quilted caps and jackets, but more being lightly clad in the forester's Lincoln green or peasants' hot and grey. All, as by the Constable's command, were mounted in some sort, though truly some of the sorry old nags and harry-legged plough-horses that they bestrowed might have much to do to overtake one of the wiry and long-shanked Welsh who fled on foot to say not of their ponies that could run all day without tiring on their moorland tracks and winding mountain ways. Geoffrey, the young Lord of Carleton, with two hundred men, was at the meeting-place when we arrived. Soon after came Dunwoody of Grimsby, Lord Pelham, Lionel of Montmorency, and the men of Manorly, Whitbury, and Gresham. By the Commander's order each man had in his pouch store of bread and dried meat for three days campaigning. Beyond that time we must find our eating where we could. Twas mid-afternoon ere our force was assembled, but we took the road straight away, and by nightfall were encamped at Hardiston, half way to Wallingham. For Geoffrey of Carleton, for myself the ere of Mountjoy, and my squire and comrade, Cedric of Pelham Wood, this was the first sight and sound of war on such a scale, and we were fairly lifted up by the thought of what the morrow would bring. Cedric and I had each nineteen years at Candlemas and Sir Geoffrey, but six months less. Many bloody phrase had we seen in the petty warfare of our countryside with Robert Barron and with banded forest outlaws, and each of us already knew the paying of hostile steel. Cedric indeed was but lately recovered from the wounds he had a year before at Morton where he had been accounted as one dead, but the tramp of an army of mounted men and the sweet music of their clinking armor and weapons we heard for the first time that day. We rode near the middle of the line and, glancing forward and back at the Galant train that seemed a whole crusade on the narrow roads, could scarce believe that there existed anywhere an enemy that could stand before its charge. Our mail-clad knights alone, riding under the lead of the stern old constable, seemed invincible. The Welsh we knew, fought without defensive armor, saved their bullseye shields, and almost I pitied them for their nakedness when I thought of the terrible Norman spears and swords in the hands of men long trained in their skillful use and hardened by years of warfare. It seemed scarce fare indeed that knights and gentlemen should fight at such advantage. The arrows and javelins and e'en the sword-strokes of their enemies would touch them not, while their own well-aimed blows would cleave through flimsy defences and scatter wounds and death. Thus mused I in my youthful ignorance, but ere to days had passed I was both sadder and wiser. Never again will I pass such hasty judgment on the power of an enemy I have not surely tried. Though both Sir Geoffrey and I were as yet knights by courtesy only, not having won our spurs, we were armed and equipped for the expedition like the older knights about us. Cedric also, though a yeoman-born, wore a coat of woven mail and had a good broadsword at his side, but slung upon his back the while was his steel crossbow, his first and favourite weapon, and the one with which he had such wondrous skill. He could strike a running hair more surely than I could one that sat stock still beneath a bush, and he had managed to impart to a dozen and more of the Mountjoy archers some measure of his craft, so that was acknowledged we had the best crossbow men in the countryside. Geoffrey of Carlton had gained much in the two years just passed in breadth of shoulder and length of arm, and could now dispute with me on almost even terms with the foils or the wooden targets and broadswords of our martial play. I had already the height and reach of my father, who had a name for bone and brawn, and feats of nightly strength. And Cedric, though a hand's breadth shorter, had the shoulders and thighs of a smith. He could hang by one arm from a bow and draw himself up to the chin, and I have seen him crumple a gold coin in his hand by way of making good his word when he had declared it over thin and light. Though Cedric was born and had lived till his sixteenth year in the woodland cottage of his father, the Forester of Pelham, his speech was not as that of the churls around us, and at Castle Mountjoy he had learned the ways of gentleness as readily as one of noblest blood. My lady mother was never a weary of lessening such a pupil in the manners of a knight and gentleman, and now had reason to look with pride on her work. With all Cedric never forgot the class from which he sprung, nor carried himself as a lord over them when given authority. We made but a short night of it at Hardiston. By three o'clock we were in the saddle again, and pricking forward toward the plain of Wallingham. By sun-up we were within three leagues of the castle, and the constable had sent forward light-armed scouts to bring us word of the siege. Then spake my father with the freedom of an old comrade of the constables and veteran of many a hard campaign. Me thinks, my lord, that Riss and his Welsh rabbit will narrow weight our coming on Wallingham plain where they must needs fight with the castle in their rear and the danger of a sortee of the garrison. Through me if they do not fly again across the marches when they hear of our coming in force and await another time to strike at undefended lands. Bye, our lady. Mountjoy, return the constable. I believe thou art right, and Riss will never risk his thieving crew on a good wide field where sword and lance decide the day. But what would thou suggest? Can we do ought but ride for Wallingham as hard as may be? I, my lord, there is a fork of the road a bow-shot hence where one track leads to Wallingham and the other to Egbert's Ford or a wide stream a league from the castle, to zone the road to the marches, and if we ride and hold it we may there intercept the Welsh and cut them off from their retreat. If they leave not Wallingham we can ride from thence and take them at vantage. Well said, Mountjoy and Faith! cried Delancey. Prithee, Sir Richard of Mountjoy, ride forward and give the word to the vanguard to take the right turning. We'll come between the rogues and their retreat, and fight mayhap with the river at our backs. There'll be full many of them, I trust, that will narrow ride again for robbery and burning. Mine errand with the vanguard was quickly done. Less than an hour thereafter we rode out of the forest inside of Egbert's Ford. Then were Lord Mountjoy's words full justified, for we saw before us and but half a mile away the whole army of the Welsh in full retreat on the road toward the marches and the tangle of mountains and valleys beyond. Fortune smiled on our banners that morning, for indeed had we foreknown our enemy's movements and timed our coming to the minute it could not have better fallen out. As we emerged from the Greenwood half of the Welsh army had already crossed the stream. The water at the Ford was filled with mounted men and bullet carts. Laden was spoiled and making their difficult way through the swift flowing current, and the remainder of their forces still stood on the hither side, awaiting their turn for the crossing. It needed not the eye of a great captain to discern our vantage in such a posture. As our knights and men at arms came forth on the field they set up a shout of joy, full like that of unleashed hounds that see the boar started from his covert. Almost without a word from their chiefs and without a moment's loss they formed in line of battle. Then came the Constable's ringing word. Forward for St. George! And the line rolled forward down the hill with a rush and roar like that of the great downfall of rock and earth and full-grown trees that I had once seen in the western mountains. My father and I rode at the head of the Mountjoy knights and men at arms and not far from the Constable. Sir Geoffrey full gallantly captained the chivalry of Carlton and Terremor, and the Lionel of Montmorency rode just beyond him, leading a hundred lances. Lord Mountjoy had named Cedric to lead the Mountjoy archers five score strong, and I could see, or my shoulder, that they were the first of the bowmen to form their line and follow in the wake of the men at arms. Thus the army of the Constable poured down upon the luckless washmen into thunderous onrushing waves. They made shift to meet our attack as best they might, facing us with stubborn courage indeed, but with little skill of the military art, and with a battle-front that seemed more like a moiling and howling mob of rioters than any army under its lawful captains. If any noise ere heard could have affected it we might have been checked indeed, for as we galloped down upon them they set up a chorus of shrieks and yells that seemed like to split one's ears. Swords and maces seemed their principal weapons, with here and there a lance or a battle-axe, and mingled helter-skelter with their heavier arms, the bows and shafts of their archers. Their bows had not the length nor the power of those of our English foresters, and the cloud of arrows they sent toward our male-clad line had no more effect than as if a flock of sparrows had sought to check and thwart us. Into that howling mob we rushed with loveled lances. Our horses were stayed by the very mass of the bodies of our enemies, and in a moment we were assailed, as it seemed, from all sides by the survivors, some of them dreadfully wounded, but wielding swords and battle-clubs and javelins with a demon-like fury. Their skill with these weapons was not to be despised, and if they had no coats of mail to shield them, neither were their movements impeded by weight of armour. Hundreds of our men at arms fell in that struggle on the river brink. Victory was no such easy goal as I had thought. Meanwhile the half of the Welsh army, which was on the other side of the river, commanded by Ryss himself, essayed to recross and come to the aid of their comrades. They might well have succeeded, and may have found some means of outflanking us, had it not been for the watchfulness of Cedric of Mountjoy. He and our whole array of archers had been close behind us, striving to do their share by way of shooting between our bodies at the mass of Welshmen, but soon the tangle was such that their bolts seemed as like to slay friend as foe, and they had gradually desisted. Then Cedric caught sight of the Welsh entering the water on the farther side, and drawing the Mountjoy archers to the left of the main battle, began sending a stream of quarrels in their direction. The Lord Constable, having just then a moment's respite, saw what was toward, and sent word to the other leaders of our bowmen to follow the tactics of the Mountjoy men. In a moment the air above the stream was filled with a cloud of bolts and shafts, and the waters became clogged with dead and dying men and horses. Such a rain of death and wounds was not to be endured by unprotected men. Soon the Welsh warriors were turning their horses' heads again toward the bank, and those that regained it, with their fellows who had not yet re-entered the ford, fell back to a safer distance. Now the battle on the riverbank went swiftly to its close. The struggling and yelling Welsh grew ever fewer, and our knights gained room for yet more deadly work with sword and lance. Soon the half of the Welsh forces that had occupied the hither bank had been destroyed or scattered, and our army was crossing the river in pursuit of Ryss and his remaining warriors, who were riding for life toward the mountains in the west. True to his sworn purpose, the constable lost not a moment in the chase. The Welsh horses were fresher than ours that had already travelled far that day, and they were more lightly burdened, else we might have ridden them down and finished the work so well begun at Igbert's ford. As it was our enemies by abandoning their spoils and lashing their ponies forward without mercy, managed to keep well beyond bow-shot for the half a dozen leagues that lay between the ford and the entrance of a narrow valley that led up into the mountains where they had so often before found safe retreat. Into this defile we rode at three of the clock, cutting down or making prisoners of a dozen stragglers whose horses had failed them at the beginning of the upward road. Without pause we spurred on up the stony pathway for a mile and more, then found the valley narrowing to a pass between high walls of rock. Through this the army of the Welsh had gone, leaving a guard of a hundred or more to stay our progress. Our leader well knew the tactics fit for such a juncture. He halted his main force and sent forward the archers, the longbowmen under Simon of Montmorency and those with crossbows under Cedric of Mountjoy. Soon the defenders of the pass were whelmed with a cloud of arrows and quarrels. They sheltered themselves as best they might amongst rocks and trees, but the arrows came like rain, searching every cranny of the pass. In scarce half an hour the last of the Welsh rearguard was slain or had fled, and the way was open before us. The constable left two hundred men at arms and archers under an old and trusted knight to behind us, and we rode forward into the wide valley. The day was now far spent, and the sun had passed from sight behind the mountains that rose ever higher toward the west. The scattered oaks and furs and the great rocks that strewed the valley on either hand might well have sheltered in ambush, and we rode forward more slowly with lines of skirmishers well to the fore and to the right and left. And now it seemed fortune, who with the sun had smiled upon us all day long, withdrew her favour also, for we had traversed scarce a league of the rocky track along which Ryss and his army had fled, when thick clouds obscured the narrow sky above us, thunder roared and rumbled in the mountain passes and torrents of rain began to fall. The darkness swiftly enclosed us, and we had perforced to halt lest we should lose our way amongst the woods there drenched and chilled and worn with a day of riding and battle we made bivouac and ate of the food in our pouches. Mindful of the skill and daring of the Welsh in night attacks the Lord Constable posted double lines of sentinels, and we seized such sleep as we might, wrapping in our dripping cloaks and lying upon the grass and leaves. At last I, for one, slumbered heavily, and it seemed but an hour ere our leaders roused us and we saw the black shadows of the mists around us turning grey with morning light. While we ate again of the bread and meat we carried, the Constable dispatched two riders with the message to surguy Baldiston at the pass, with commands to send back word to Wallingham of our whereabouts and our intent to pursue the ravagers still farther. In half an hour we were again in directions for our better ordering to guard against surprise upon the march, when one described our messengers returning at full gallop and lying low upon their horses' necks as if in fear of arrows that might come from wayside rocks and trees. They rode indeed not like the soldiers of a victor's army but like men who are hunted and flee for their lives. In a moment more they had attained our lines, their horses loudly panting with the labour of such men over rough and stony paths and the foremost rider cried out to the commander, Oh my lord, surguy and all his men are slain and the Welsh have the pass again. We but narrowly escaped being taken ourselves. The Constable sat on his great war-horse, gazing and frowning at the messenger for a length of time that an arrow shot strongly upward might have needed to come again to earth. Then he said sternly, and how closely did thou see all this? Oh my lord, we rode within the bow-shot towards something dark and misty and we knew not what was toward. The pass is filled with Welshmen and they raised the skull-bone banner to his an army such as we encountered yesterday. Delacy glanced about him at his leaders. My lords and gentlemen, you hear what has chanced. Shall we attack again from this side or far onward? We must ride onward my lord and that quickly, answered Lord Mountjoy. We cannot force that narrow pass against such an army as our messenger describes. Doubtless they hold also the crags above and from thence they can roll down rocks that would fell and crush any force that attempted it. We saw many hundreds of them on the crags above, putting the messenger. And what if we ride forward, demanded the Constable. Have we a clearer road on that side? I'm a lord, returned my father. Once years gone I rode through this valley a hawking. There is another gateway called the Pass of the Eagles, three leagues farther west. It is much broader than the other, and if we hasten, risk can scarcely gather a force that can hold it against us. Then beyond is the good wide valley of Owain, a down which, in ten hours hard riding, we may gain the marches once more. The lord Constable gazed at the ground before him for a moment. Then he lifted his head and spake so that all around might hear. My lords, this Welsh free-booter hath shown himself a better general than I. He hath enticed us into this valley, and then hath closed the gate behind us, as one entraps a bear or wolf. The storm, it seems, hath given him respite. He fights in his own land, and doubtless the knight hath brought many recruits to his banner. Now ride we on to force this other gateway, ere he gather an army that can close that also. Forward St. George. At the full trot we rode away, and for an hour and more we slackened not our speed. By the sides of the pathway, or crouching under crags in the hillside, we saw at intervals the huts of stones and turf of the Welsh mountain folk, but all stood silent and deserted, with never a wisp of smoke from chimney or sight of a woman or child. When the sun was in our high, the valley narrowed again round us, and we came in sight of the pass of the eagles. Then indeed we knew that if any of us returned alive from this adventure, to it be by the favour of all the saints, and by the utmost might of our arms. For the army of wrists stood before us, drawn up in twenty ranks across the defile which was there of a furlong's width. In the front ranks stood the spearmen with the butts of their weapons firmly planted in the ground, and the knights held at the height of a horse's breast. In the next the king and his sons, the leaders of tribes and of all those who bore the heaviest arms and iron shields. Behind them rank after rank of swordsmen and javelin throwers, and rearmost their archers with bows in hand and arrows ready notched. The flanks of the Welsh array were protected by high and rocky slopes where scrubby oaks and thorns found scamp amidst the crags, and where no horse could tread. On both sides of the valley, where it narrowed to the pass, were broken cliffs that not a mountain goat could scale. Beyond these lay the heather-covered mountain sides, and far away rocky peaks where already snow had come. At the word our men wheeled into line of battle, the armoured knights in the van, in two open ranks. Then the men at arms in three more of closer array. The archers were not to charge with us, but, with a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms under Lord Mountjoy, were to form a rearguard lest other bodies of the Welsh close in upon us. Both Sir Geoffrey and I had one favour in the Lord Constable's eyes by somewhat we had accomplished in the fighting at the Ford, and now I led the forces of Mountjoy at his right, and Geoffrey, those of Carlton and Terremor, on his left hand. In a moment came the furious shock of battle, and all the frightful scenes of the struggle by the river's edge, with the vantage now on the side of our enemies. Many of the steeds of our gallant knights transfixed themselves upon the Welsh lances, and their riders brought to the ground, fell victims to swords or javelins, or were crushed beneath the hooves of our own oncoming ranks. But the line of spears was utterly broken, and the other knights and men at arms drove furiously into the mass before them. Swords and lances did their terrible work, and in the briefest time hundreds of our enemies had fallen. The Constable fought that day with a huge mace, and swinging it about his head as if it were a willow wand, he seemed like the great God Thor of the heathen worship of old. But now, for every two or three of the Welsh, one of our knights or men at arms perished also. Some of the tribesmen, struck down by the swords of the riders, thrust upwards at our horses with swords and knives as we passed over them, and so cast down many a rider into the melee of dashing hooves and glancing blades, and many times furious warriors laying hold upon the riders brought them to the earth and to speedy death. Their archers and javelin-throwers aimed at our necks and faces, and though many of their shafts flew wide or even struck down their own, others found their marks indeed and added their fatal losses. From one desperate moment to another, for a length of time ever unknown to me, the struggle and the slaying went on unchecked. Our numbers grew ever fewer, and we were gaining scarce a yard of ground. For all the heaps of fallen the Welsh fought on with undiminished fury, and was evident that they would slay the last of us ere we could force the pass. Lionel Mornsey had fallen with half his men, as also Dunwoody and Sir William, his brother and heir. The Lord Constable himself was wounded, and panting with fatigue and loss of blood had dropped his mace to fight again with broadsword. Sir Geoffrey of Carleton had once saved him from the hands of a huge Welsh warrior who sought to drag him from his saddle, and now the two fought almost back-to-back in an ever-narrowing circle of enemies. Suddenly I saw and felt the tribesmen wavering and giving ground before us, and became aware of a shower of crossbow bolts that was falling among them, and striking them down by hundreds. Looking up to see whence they came, I beheld Cedric of Mountjoy, and half a thousand of his crossbowmen among the rocks in the promontory to the right, discharging their bolts as fast as they could lay them in groove, and pouring a most deadly hail into the thick ranks of our enemies. It was evident that Cedric had dismounted all his men and found some means to scale the cliffs and strike the Welsh in flank. Then I saw that a body of the enemy, hastily called from the rearmost ranks by the huge and red-haired Griffith, son of Rys, assaulted this position and sought to pull our archers from their posts of vantage. Climbing upward amongst the crags they faced at closest range the deadly aim of the crossbowmen. Backward they fell by scores, their bodies crushing down those below them. Not a dozen came to grips with the archers. Of these the leader had his great sword thrust aside by Cedric's bow, then was seized about the waist, lifted from the earth, and thrown to the rocks below, where he lay still with broken back. With the fall of Griffith our men set up a mighty shout, and pressed the Welsh ever the harder. The deadly bolts still poured down from Cedric's vantage ground, but shifted ever their direction as we drove the enemy before us. The yells of the Welshmen, which had been those of victory and triumph, now changed to cries of despair. Hundreds turned and fled, and of these many cast down their weapons that they might run the faster. Soon the downward pathway ahead of us was filled with fugitives and only a few bands of desperate warriors fought on, preferring death to such a defeat after victory had been almost within their grasp. With the pass open before us we paused not to pursue their Welsh into the rocky and wooded fastnesses where they had fled. Taking up our sorely wounded in such litters as we could hastily form and those with less grave hurts behind the other horsemen, we reformed our column and rode away down the broad valley toward the marches and the goodly fortress of Wendery that Sir John Clarendon held for the King. When the moon rose at the ninth hour of the evening of that day, the Lord High Constable stood in the courtyard at Wendery, surrounded by the lords and barons of his expedition and of the Castle Garrison. His wounds had been bathed and bandaged, but his face was white with the bloodletting and the fatigues of the day so that his friends were urging him to seek his rest. Yet for the time he put away their council declaring that one duty yet remained. Young Sir Jeffrey of Carleton and I with Cedric my squire had been summoned before him. Nealed down, he commanded sternly. We obeyed in silence and he drew his sword from its sheath and twice struck the young Lord of Carleton lightly on the shoulder. Rise, Sir Jeffrey of Carleton, he said. I dubbed the night. Be thou ever faithful, true and valorous as thou hast been this day. Then I also received the strokes and words were pronounced that made me a knight and chevalier in verity. Lastly and to my great amaze I heard the words. Rise, Sir Cedric de La Roche, I dubbed the night of the crag. The device on thy shield shall be an eagle in token of the spot where thy resource changed defeat to victory. Be thou ever faithful, true and valorous as thou hast been this day, and England gained a stout defender and King Richard of the Lionheart a worthy support to his throne. End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Cedric the Forester by Bernard Gaye Marshall. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Lynette Calkins. Monument Colorado Chapter 11 by Kimberly Mote After the battle of the pass we had a season of quiet at Mountjoy. King Richard had sailed on the great crusade leaving his brother John as regent and the people of England, nobles and commons alike, learned that there was a far worse rule than that of stern old Henry of Anjou for John Lackland, his younger son, had at once the greed of a tiger and the meanness of a rat. Many of the high places of church and state were filled with his favorites, miserable creatures for the most part whose only merits were a ready complacence to the wishes of their master and a measure of craft and subtlety in furtherance of his schemes. Sheriffs and bailiffs of a yet more contemptible strain hurried to do the bidding of these velvet-clad beggars and thieves and honest and forthright men led a hard life indeed unless they were themselves high in power and of numerous following. Among these last men was a man named the Mount Joys and their friends and allies, the Carltons of Terremor. We were too strong and too valuable in the defense of the Western marches to be meddled with, saved for the greatest cause, so the land, for some leagues about us, was in a measure free from the ills which now and again brought other portions of the kingdom to the verge of rebellion. Sir Cedric, as now we gladly consulted him as often as myself on the gravest questions, and Lady Mount Joy willingly spent uncounted hours in bettering his knowledge of polite and courtly ways, and of those diverse little matters of nightly bearing to which in our rough Western land we give may have too little heed. At the books to her amaze he soon had far outstripped her. An uncle of his was one of the monks at Kirkwald Abbey and Scholar. For a year past Cedric had been making frequent journeys to the Abbey, and once we had old Father Benedict at Mount Joy for a month or more. For hours together they would pour over dusty and ancient tomes that made me ache with weariness but to look upon them. The first we knew, our Cedric was better at the Latin reading than any layman we had seen or heard of. History and chronicles were common, and often, with his head between the covers of a book, his dinner would be quite forgot but for my lusty calling. With all he was no pale bookworm, but a lusty and rollicking lad who in rough and tumble play could lay me on the broad of my back with scarce a minutes striving. At the sword play I was ever his best, but his mastery of the crossbow grew yet more wonderful as the seasons passed. Even the oldsters admitted he equalled Marvin at Marvin's best. Already he had the name of the best crossbowman in England, and I found that strangers to our county who had heard nothing of the deeds of my father and all our noble forebears had knowledge, nevertheless, of Mount Joy as the house to which Sir Cedric gave allegiance. But I think the thing that warmed me most toward my former squire and constant comrade was the loyalty he ever had to the house on which he sprung. Lord Mount Joy often gave to him authority over working crews at some necessary task on farm or highway or scouting parties of swordsmen and archers that rode the marches to guard against the Welsh marauders. It would have been no wonder had such a sudden rise to title and preferment bred in a youth who had been born in a forester's cot, a certain arrogance of manner and an overweening confidence in his own worth and desserts. But by his own desire the archers and men at arms of Mount Joy still addressed him as they had when his station was no higher than theirs. And though he could be quick and firm on occasion he was never above listening to and profiting by the councils of the elder men in Buckram or in Hodden Gray. Nor did he forget the cottage in Pelham Wood which housed his old father and his small toe-headed brethren. Since he had dwelt at Mount Hall, scarce a month had passed without his writing thence and leaving with them some share in any garden he had won. It was after such a journey that Cedric returned to the hall one autumn evening in such a mood of silence and depression as I had never seen since those sad days when he quarreled with my father over the punishment due the churls of Delancey Manor. At his supper he spoke no word and ate and drank but little. My lady would anxiously inquire if he were ill for we knew him well as a valiant trencherman and he had ridden far in a frosty air. He put away her questionings with his usual courtesy denying that ought ailed him, but me he could not so easily check for I followed him to his room and finding him sitting with his face in his hands demanded to know as friend and comrade what had turned his world awry. Sir Richard, he replied sadly, hast ever had friend of thine flung into dungeon cell there to die at the pleasure of some low living scoundrel? Nay, I answered quickly. This evil I have thus far escaped though I well note is common enough in these days and many there be that suffer it. Of those I am won replied Cedric and now I rack my head to know whether or not there be any possible help for it. Wilfred, son of the farmer of Birkenhead, a comrade and playmate since ever I can remember. We hunted and fished and swam together and willingly fought each other's battles when we were but little lads. Once he plunged in and pulled me from the Tarleton water when far gone with cramp I had twice sunken. His handling of the longbow is well nigh equal to my father's and better than that of any youth I know. I had lately planned to bring him to Mountjoy and who is it that now hath seized him? Tis that rhyme mouth than wrath-eyed scoundrel Bartolf that lately hath been made king's bailiff and hath in charge the rebuilding of Kimberley Castle. 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 Bartolf 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 Wilfred who stood by the way watching them pass. In an instant Wilfred had snatched him from the saddle and rolled him well in a puddle of mud that chanced to be at hand so that Bartolf rode home at last a sorry spectacle that day he never 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 in oxen from the farmers round and derives the work as though the Scotch and Welsh were o'er the borders both at once. With this excuse he sees the yoke cattle at Birkenhead. But Birkenhead is full five leagues from Kimberley. I, 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 it the thick of harvest too, thou it back till it seems that the snows may cover the uncut grain if the farmers make not haste. But Wilfred made shift 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 Bardolf do but come again with two soldiers at his back and make demand of Wilfred for these cattle also. The hound! had been there to tell him straight what manner of cur he is. There was no need for that. Wilfred forthwith flew into such a rage as drove from him all fear of what might be tied. 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 Bardolf's nose with his chest. Oh, saints above! Did he so indeed? There is a yeoman for thee of the sort that win England's battles. I would we had him under Mount Joybanner, but what next occurred? The soldiers had leaped from their horses as soon as the bailiff went down and both together they seized Wilfred and overthrew and bound him fast. Then lashing him on the back of a horse they set out for Kimberley with he of the broken nose and shedding a stream of blood in furious oaths. The neighbor folk say that over and over again he swore that young Birkenhead should never leave Kimberley alive. By our lady! I cried. There's not to prevent him making good his threats. He is in command at Kimberley now that the sheriff have left for the north. Cedric nodded sadly. To his 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 Wilfred'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. To the hard world 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 help me, we may better this hard world for one luckless man. It has come to me how we may take Wilfred 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, wilts tears of joy sprang to his eyes at my hearty seconding. One that came from Kimberley, even as we talked at my father's today, hath told us that Wilfred 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. To it be sure death to fling one's self down since the rock at the base is after all too wide to be passed 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 passed overhead and therefore would not soon return. It is 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 Wilfred 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. Tomorrow night will be moonless. What sayest thou? The next day at noon, soon after barred off of the broken nose, had ridden away from Kimberley on some necessary errand, a stout old monk in the flowing rope 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 Wilfred and to bear to him the consolations of religion and also some articles of food which friends of his had prepared. The clerically 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 shadow lane his hardiest 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 or 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 passed out of the village looking neither to the right nor the left. Soon after I followed and overtook him after he had entered the sick copes of Ewe 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 Wilfred of Birkenhead have been for three days close shut in that tower room and no least morsel of food have been given him. Bartolf verily means to compass his death by starving. The miserable hound answered between set teeth. To the pity Wilfred did not strike a thought harder and break his worthless skull. Cedric's face was writhed with pain and wrath. He stamped upon the ground in bitter impatience. Then, pulling from the basket the huge meat pie which had formed the greater part of the provision he had sought to carry to the prisoner he dropped it before him and struck it with most vicious kick before it reached the ground. The crust flew off in a dozen pieces and revealed the inner part as no juicy slices of flesh or fowl or pig but a close wound coil of hempen rope such as no mortal man could feed upon. Had I placed this beneath my armpits as was my first thought, growled Cedric, it would now have been safe hidden in the bundle of straw they have given Wilfred for a bed. Fortune favored us not, it seems, but may have that fickle jade will smile on our further contrivings. I made a new plan even as I climbed the tower stairs and Wilfred is well apprised of it. It is not so simple as the first nor seemingly so sure but it may serve our turn. Must we wait till the morrow and risk another entry of the castle? I questioned. May have the bailiff will not ride abroad so opportunity. Nay, we shall make the essay tonight, he answered slowly. Time presses if Wilfred is not to be so weakened by fasting as to be incapable of any effort on his own behalf. Marcel hath already been told to have the horses here at nine and wait our coming till dawn if need be. If we can come by a ball of fine stout cord, like fishing lines, we will have that rope in the tower room by midnight. Then all the rest will be quickly done and Wilfred a dozen leagues from Kimberley air sunrise. An hour before midnight Cedric and I lay under the group of saplings ten yards from the castle moat and opposite the window of the room which held young Wilfred a Birkenhead. Beside us on the ground lay the ball of cord with one projecting end fastened to the coil of rope. Now Cedric took a crossbow bolt from the sack at his girdle and tied the other end of the cord firmly about it. Then, drawing the bow, he placed the bolt in groove. The sky was covered with thin clouds that half obscured the stars and the moon had not yet risen. The castle wall on the other side of the moat was a grey blur in the murk but we could clearly see the sentinel as he slowly paced his rounds of the battlements. The steel cap that he wore and the point of his spear caught now and again a gleam of the starlight. Twenty feet below the tower summit a blacker square in the wall was the window of Wilfred's cell and the right of this could barely be discerned the lattice which had swung wide as though to admit the fresher air. Cedric crouched on his knees gazing at the window till the sentry passed from sight. Then softly he uttered the cry of an owl. At once some white object fluttered in the blackness of the cell window. Cedric rose to his feet, took careful aim at the window and let fly the bolt. But alas! the pull of the cord as it unwound the ball checked the coral sadly and it rang on the stones of the wall no higher than our heads. We crouched at once in the shadows certain that the sentry had hurt its steely stroke. But he came not back to the tower and soon we breathed again. Cedric drew in the line and recharged his weapon whispering to me the while that he should have better known than to have it so tightly coiled and that another try with the cord lying loose would surely place the bolt within the window. Now the sentry came again on his rounds and we waited perforce for his passing. When he had gone once more Cedric threw his weapon to his shoulder and sent the bolt on its way. How my ears strained and listening and an instant later how my heart sank when I heard once more the clang of iron against the tower stones and realized that Cedric had failed a second time to strike a mark at fifty paces. This time the sentry heard the stroke or so it seemed for he came hurrying back to the tower battlements and peered downward past the open window for minutes together. But all had become as still as death and there was not that he could see so at length he turned away and resumed his pacing. As Cedric again drew in the quarrel he whispered to me I have it now the line drew down my bolt by a yard or more I must allow for that by a higher aim. The third cast never fails and for that we yet have time ere yonder sentry is sure there's mischief afoot. He took a fresh bolt and tied the cord with care about it. Then for the third time he aimed at the tower above us. Twas the lucky third indeed for close following the whir of the quarrel came a muffled thud as it struck the oaken door within the cell. This seemed not to reach the ears beyond the other side of the battlements for though we listened with baited breath there was no sound of his returning footsteps. The next instant we could see the unspent portion of the line was tightening with a pole from the tower. Then straight away the coil of rope left its place at our feet swam through the moat and climbed the tower's side. Cedric and I clasped hands in joy for now we could see our project succeeding. In no more time than he needed to swim the moat and reach the horses in the hazel copes Wilfred would be safely away from Kimberly. Once more the sentry made his rounds and once more passed regardless of what was going forward six yards below him. Wilfred appeared at the window and lowering himself hand over hand came swiftly down the rope to the cliff below. There misfortune awaited us. As he dangled from the rope with his feet seeking a hold hoping cliff he loosened a bit of rock the size of a man's head that lay near the tower base and this accursed stone slid and rolled noisily down the crack and struck the waters of the moat with a hideous splashing. At once the sentry, whose ears may have had been sharpened by the other noise for which he had found no reason came running again to the tower. Peering into the darkness below he spied the prisoner just as he leaped down the rock and plunged into the moat. The sentinel was a ready man and determined, such in one as might well have served a better master. Setting up a lusty shadow of alarm he turned at once to a pile of the stones that were kept on the battlements for the repelling of besiegers and began hurling these into the moat. The water surface was in shadow and we could not see the head of the swimmer nor could we tell whether any of the soldier's wild flung missiles had found their mark. A minute passed wherein my blood seemed to freeze and my limbs to lock themselves fast like those of one who perishes from a mad dog's bite. The stones still followed one another in vicious plunges into the black waters and the soldier continued to hallow for the guardsmen at the gate to lower the bridge and search the farther bank. Then Cedric broke away from me and plunged into the moat. Forgetting all else I followed him to the water's edge, stood peering vainly into the blackness and dived in also had he not speedily returned. He was swimming lustily with one hand and with the other bearing up his comrade. I seized them both as they came within reach and hauled them ashore. Cedric joined with me and we drew Wilfred up the bank and halfway to the group of saplings. There Cedric stopped with a groan of misery and fell on his knees by the body of his friend. The wind had brushed the clouds from the sky and by the starlight I saw that lead had been crushed by one of the stones from the battlements. Cedric rose to his feet and shook his fist in frenzy toward the king's stronghold. But already the bridge was down and the guard was pouring across. I plucked my comrade by the sleeve. Come, Cedric, come! Our friend has passed all help. Let us away, ere they slay us also. He turned to me with a face of deathly whiteness and for a moment I thought he would refuse. But I seized his hand and let me hurry him to the shelter of the trees. Through these we quickly passed and then raced down the dim lit field to a hedgerow of furlong away. Running behind this we soon distanced our pursuers. In half an hour we had come by round about ways to the hazel copes where Marcel and the horses awaited us. In silence we mounted and in silence rode through all the hours of darkness. Cedric sitting with head bowed forward and wrapped in gloomy cloth as in a sable garment. The way was rough and weary and we found no solace in the fragrance of the harvest fields and leaf-strewn woods or in the song of the night wind. As the sun rose behind a veil of grey and chilling mists we climbed the slopes of Rowan Hill and sighted the towers of Mountjoy. CHAPTER XII. THE IRON COLOR A year had passed since our ill-fated venture beneath the walls of Kimberley and was an autumn morning as makes one forget his cares and sorrows and those of a strife-torn world and believe in the coming of a better day. Cedric and I had promised ourselves rare sport in the woods of Grimsby. The sky overhead was a brightest blue and the sunlight filtered sweetly through the boughs of oak and beach that now had dropped the half of their leaves to make a rustling carpet underfoot. In the treetops the birds sang lustily making the best of the smiling time that comes before the winter's winds and snows. Again a wood-mouse scampered on fallen log, a hare sprang away from her form, or a moor fowl scuttled to cover in the bracken. To me there were never sweeter sights and sounds and fragrances than those of autumn woodlands, and to Cedric the son of a Pelham Forester they were as native and joyous as the brown brook waters to the speckled trout or the green hill-pesters to the Mountjoy kind. Since my former squire had been knighted at Wenderley, after the victory over the Welsh at the pass of the Eagles, we at Mountjoy had grown well used to think of him as Cedric de la Roche, the name conferred by the Lord High Constable when he made him knight and chivalier. But a newer honour had come to him but four months past, and though it was well deserved, and most gracious act of our liege Lord the Lion-hearted Richard, we yet could scarce see. Delacy, the High Constable, who with the backing of all the Mountjoys and Carltons had well served the king in the western counties in the struggle against his usurping brother, John, after the king's return from the German captivity, had told to him the tale of the Welsh battle and something of Cedric's more recent services. Then he had hinted that the fee of Grimsby had been vacant, safe for the royal stewards ever since Sir James Dunwoody and his brother had perished in the battle at the pass. Fourth with, the king summoned secretaries to write at his bidding, and shortly a herald arrived at Castle Mountjoy with letters patent, making our Cedric the knight of Grimsby, and conferring on him in fee the land and manor house and all the rites Dunwoody had before. At the royal assembly at Shrewsbury, Cedric had appeared with his due quota of six and fifty archers, and no knight or baron in the whole array looked at better captain of his forces or held himself in more manly fashion as the king rode down the line to view us. Truly my heart swelled that day with gladness at the recognition that had come to so brave and so true a man without awaiting the silvering of his hair and the bowing of his shoulders with years. Lord Mountjoy was mightily proud of as I well knew, and had stinted not to boast of him on occasion as a Mountjoy lad with a head as well as hands, and however he might wish to check or weaning youth and confidence my father might not gain say that he that had long been famous for his sword's play throughout all our countryside had much ado to hold his own with foil or quarter-staff against me, now that my strength and reach did equal his or that Cedric of the broad back and oaken thighs could lift breast high a weight that neither of us could stir. Now, Sir Cedric Delaroche and I adventured through the Grimsby woods, a foot clad as huntsmen and carrying only our crossbows and poniers. For the most part those that hunt in greenwood choose the longbow with its clothyard shafts, but from a child Cedric had displayed a wondrous skill with the other his favorite, and I followed his humor. Already he had struck a fine morphel that ran amongst the gorse and I a hair that sat upright beneath a leafy beach, thinking himself well hidden. We talked full loud and gaily as we made our way through bush and brake or along the woodland paths for truly it was the sunlight and the comradeship and the smell of the fallen leaves that had brought us to the forest rather than any wish for heavy game sacks. Already we had meet enough for the roasting at our noontide campfire and we little cared for more. To fair abroad on such a mourn among the grey tree trunks and by the brown woodland streams was enough for our content. As we walked on, Cedric told tale after tale that he had from old books of ballads and chronicles wherein brave knights rode gaily through just such a land as this and had full gallant adventures and sweet passages at arms. Almost I could see the phase and elves that he declared were dancing on the forest floor and the old black-robed magician that held them at his thralls. Suddenly we heard sounds of hooves and saw approaching us along the bridal path two armed and mounted horsemen, Twaslord Gilroy, who held the great domain of that name two leagues and more away, and his nephew a hulking youth of two and twenty or their abouts, by name Sir Philip Carrington. Both were red of face with hurry and their horses were well lathered and breathing hard. At first sight of us Lord Gilroy called out loudly ah, good morrow gentlemen, well met, Mountjoy, and Grimsby both. Grimsby, we have to crave thy leave to ride through thy lands in search of a murdering villain that hath escaped us at Gilroy. A murderer sayest thou answered Cedric, whom hath he slain? To Simon, my dogmaster, he lies at the point of death, or is dead for I know by this time, his skull near crushed with a cudgel. Twas my thrall, Egbert, a surly fellow well deserving of the hangmen's noose that thus assaulted him. It seems the dogmaster had found him sore abusing one of the best of our hounds and had raided him soundly, threatening a report to me of his actions. I saw but the end of the matter and that from a distance and with Philip here have ridden hard after him. The varlet made it once for the woods and has thus far escaped us, but we will run him to earth if it take the whole of Gilroy. A surly fellow indeed exclaimed Sir Cedric, to as well that he be apprehended quickly else he'll join some outlaw band and bid us all defiance. Thou mayst ride through my lands for his capture, where we may chance upon him in the wood. How may we know him? Lord Gilroy smiled, but in a hard grim way he hath that is more menacing than any frown. To his easy knowing him he wears an iron collar like all my thralls, bearing his own name and mine in graven letters. It makes the hunting of them far easier when they have done some violence or if they attempt to fly from my lands. But give you good day, messieurs. We must fare on. If so be you get side of him, a crossbow quarrel would not be amiss if he stopped not on order. And if you take and send him to me, I will be much beholden. Our thralls must be kept well in leash, even if that leash be on occasion a hangman's knot. Come, Philip, ride to the left, I pray thee, while I follow this path through yonder thicket. Cedric and I walked on, talking of this bloody mischief and of the chances of the thralls' recapture. Somehow the brightness had gone from the sun-glint, and the woodland seemed no longer a forest enchanted where nymphs and elves might dance away from hollowed tree or the grey-haired wizard, Mervyn, be seen upon a mossy rock summoning by magic spells a troupe of Arthur's chivalry. "'Tis true, this fellow must be taken,' said Cedric sadly, for such as he make up the outlaw bands that now and again give trouble soar to honest men. But I know not for the life of me why men that are born and die upon this green earth, like any others, and that have as good a wish to live unhampered as you would die, should wear upon their necks collars of iron that mark them for ever as slaves and bondmen. I have little wonder that such at times break forth with violence. I have the more that ever they remain quiet like oxen in a paddock awaiting the plowman's yoke. Cedric had stopped short in the path and was facing me. Upon his broad and comely face was the same stern look he had worn that day he withstood my father in the matter of the churls at Delancey Manor. "'Why?' "'God have mercy, Cedric,' I protested. "'I see no need for all this heat. These thralls have never known other men, and to his like they lived the more in comfort for a master's guidance.' Cedric's eyes blazed at this, and he spoke full loudly. "'Look thee now, Sir Richard. Has ever asked of Thrall whether or not he would have his freedom if he might? If ever thou dost, thou find that there's never a villain or Thrall in England but would prefer himself as master to the kindest and best of lords that ever lived. "'How knowest thou that?' I questioned sharply, being myself somewhat kindled by the heat with which he spoke. "'Hark, thee, Sir Richard, thou hast on Mount Joyland's no thralls, for that thy grandfather made free men of them all. But when I came to Grimsby there were here a dozen or more that wore the iron collar and might not leave the land. I had not been here a fortnight ere I loosed the collars from their necks and bade them go or stay as pleased them for that now free men. Some were youths like ourselves. Some strong men of middle age and others old and white-haired. But every one of them fell down before me and wept for very joy that they and their children after them should be free. For sooth I liked it not that men with sons older than me should pay me homage as I were a heathen caliph on his throne. Tis nearly four months since and not one of them has left the lands of Grimsby and every one would fight for me against any man on earth. Hadst thou seen thy faces on that day I threw their collars to the smith to beat into bush-cutting hooks, thou never questioned more whether men would choose to be men rather than cattle. Ah well, I answered. May happen is, as thou sayest, some of the best men under the Mount Joy Banner are sons of those my grandfather loosed from bondage. But this is a question too great for argument and this too fair a day for argument. What if we make our fire and dress this meat for dinner verily I am already sharp set with this autumn air. Just then we spied before us on a little rise in the woodland a hunting lodge that had been built by the Dunwoody's for their pleasuring when they and their friends hunted in the forest. Cedric remembered that he had the key to the great lock in the door among those that hung at his girdle and we advanced to enter and examine the place, I for one being glad enough of any happening that should cause us to forget the matters of which we had been talking. Soon we were inside the lodge and found it clean and comfortable enough, it being furnished forth with a table and benches of logs split in hewn and a good broad fireplace with spits whereon to hang the roasting. Ah! cried Cedric in a voice far other than his last speaking. What sayest thou? Shall we not roast our meat here rather than among the leaves in the wood where a fire in this dry time may go beyond our holding? Surely, I answered, it will be better far to-day. Come, I'll flay and dress the hair while thou makest ready the fire thou art ever skillful at the kindling. So we set Gaely to work and in half an hour had our meat before us on the table. Some bread and cheese from our pouches that we toasted or the embers did it a feast fit for any king on a woodland holiday. Our content with the world returned and we sang a lusty ballad over the well-picked bones. Then, being somewhat thirsty, Cedric started up to see if the lodge contained a pitcher with which he might fetch clear water from the stream nearby. Meanwhile, my eye had been caught by an old and somewhat rusted broadsword that hung on pegs over the fireplace. I reached it down at once testing it with a few passes and upward strokes, found it a good blade and true, and wondered much that it should have been left in this place as something without worth. Then I saw on a bench in a darkened corner a small anvil and some armorer's tools and bethought me that the lodge might have been used at need for repairing arms when the Grimsby men were called to war. For a moment I had not noted Cedric's movements but now at a sudden word from him I wheeled about and saw him crouching at the door of an inner room of the lodge and gazing into the darkness beyond as a hound that hath run the fox to earth. I crouched beside him and looked also. The room beyond it seems had been used in the Dunwoody's time for the receiving and dressing of meat and drink and such-like offices. There was a small square window now nearly closed by its plank-shutter but admitting at the side a narrow beam of light. For a time my eyes could make out not but after a little I saw beneath a bench or table in the farthest corner first two glistening eyes then dimly the form of a man. Cedric took down his crossbow and laid a bolt in groove. Come forth from there my man he shouted. We have thee fairly caught. No answer came and for a moment I doubted if we had seen a rite. Then Cedric called out again. Come forth I tell thee else I'll fairly send a quarrel through thee. There came a low groan from the darkness and words that seemed made with labour. Strike then, I care not. What sayest thou? called Cedric. Ceased thou not I can strike thee with bolt fairly in face? Strike then to his better so. Cedric turned to me with blank amaze upon his face. Heard thou ever the like? The man defies us to the death. Then quickly thrusting his bow into my hands. Hold this against mischance. There's more to this than we know. I will fetch this fellow forth. Hold Cedric, I cried. Beware lest he stab thee. But my comrade had already advanced into the darkened room. He sprang beneath the table like a borehound in his prey and in an instant emerged at deathly grips with a man as broad and heavy as himself who fought with tooth and nail and heel and with the fierceness of a cornered wolf. In that moment I noted the iron collar on his neck and knew we had to do with Egbert the Gilroy thrall. Round and round they whirled in desperate wrestling the while I tried in vain to be of help. In a moment they were out of the room where the villain had lain hidden and fighting full madly in the lodge the thrall striving to throw his captor down and make his way out the door and into the woods beyond. Finding this impossible he made a mighty effort and lifted Cedric fairly from his feet and flung him on his side upon the floor. For an instant it seemed he would win away unless I drove a coral through him, but Cedric twisted instantly and rolled the other on his back. Then in a flash he had pinned him down and had his knee on his breast. Now yield thee, Cedric panted, thou cease I can slay thee if I will. Slay me, then, gasped the other, it is better than Lord Gilroy's branding iron or hanging noose. Ah, then, thou art Egbert that murdered the dogmaster. No murderer am I, but that would serve me not. Lord Gilroy will have me flayed alive with narrow chance to tell my tale. For a moment Cedric gazed into the bloodshot eyes beneath him. And he questioned slowly. Hark thee, my man, if I let thee up wilt thou sit quiet and tell to us thy tale of this day's doings. I replied the thrall, though to me it is all one, thou art a knight in land, Lord, and wilt have no ear for the words of a thrall that wears the iron collar and is hunted by his master like a sheep-killing hound. Of that we shall see, he replied Cedric, and springing up he released his prisoner and pointed to one of the benches that he might sit before us. Now tell us, he commanded, why thou dost beat the dogmaster till he lies near to death. Egbert the thrall took seat as he was bitten, loosed the garment that had tightened about his throat in the struggle and began. Simon, the dogmaster, ever had a grudge toward me for what I know not, and when I went to him three days ago to say that one huge hound of his pack had come a-roaring at me as I worked in the field and forced me to climb on a hay-rick to escape his jaws, he only laughed and said that thrall meat would be cheaper far for such a valued beast than beef or mutton. This morn at nine o'clock I crossed the hay-field at the back of the kennels and outleaped this same hound with frightful growls and roars and widely opened paws as if he would devour me forthwith. No tree or hay-rick was at hand that I could climb and I seized me a stone the size of my right fist and with it felt the beast so that he lay still enough upon the grass. This was no sooner done than I heard behind me the running feet of Simon the dogmaster. He had his dog-whip in his hand and when he came in reach he struck at me with all his might. The lash curled about my face and made the wheels may plainly see. Such despite was more than I could bear. I seized the whip from his hand and although I knew full well it meant the branding iron or the gallows I struck him thrice or the head with the loaded butt he keeps for the savage and unruly ones among his pack. Simon fell down in a heap and then I saw Lord Gilroy riding toward me from a hill-top a furlong off and made for the woods where his horse could not follow. They hunted me all morning but I would have won away hast thou not found me. When the thrall had seized speaking it was very still in the lodge. Cedric looked at me with a painful expression in his eyes. What my own looks answered I know not save from his words that quickly followed. Egbert! he cried. Thy act may have been lawless but we will not judge thee and thou shalt not be sent back to the lash or the branding iron neither shalt thou long wear that badge of slavery about thy neck. Here's that which will sever it. Striding to the darkened corner he took from among the armourer's tools a stout long-bladed file. Then springing back to Egbert's side seized the iron ring with one hand and set to work upon it with lusty strokes. Soon the band was half cut through. Then Cedric dropped the file and taking the collar in both his sinewy hands gave a mighty twist, broke it apart utterly and flung it as an accursed thing into the blackness beneath the armourer bench. Now he took his crossbow from the table and thrust it into Egbert's hands. Take this for thy safer journeying he cried. Thou need to travel fast and far for some few days then thou mayest take service under some true lord as a plowman or a soldier as thou wilt from this day forth thou art a free man. Egbert gazed at Cedric with tears streaming down his face. Then he fell on his knees before him, but my comrade raised him almost roughly. Up with the Egbert thou art a free man now and should do utter homage to none but God and there's work to do if thou wilt keep thy freedom thou must be far away from Gilroy before another mourn. Egbert among his sobs of joy could say no word I found in my pouch a little gold and gave it to him. Thou need to buy thy food and lodging as a traveller, I said, and not be taken as a prowling barlet. Look to it now. Then he that had been our prisoner found voice at last and began to murmur broken words of thanks and to encumber his newfound liberty with oaths of lifelong fealty to ourselves, but Cedric again checked him with uplifted hand. Hark! he whispered. What was that sound? For a moment all three of us stood silent and breathless listening to the wind in the branches without and the faint snapping of coals on the hearth. Then came the noise again, a long-drawn baying howl of a hound on a scent. Some of our neighbours hunt the deer, I said. Nay! answered Cedric quickly, tis no deer hound, tis a far deeper note. Meanwhile the face of Egbert had turned away and now his limbs shook with very terror. Tis the blood hounds of Gilroy, he gasped. My lord ever keeps two or three for just such as this they follow on my track. Then from a window we saw, a furlong off in the open wood, two huge brown hounds that ran with noses close to earth and upon a path that led straight toward the lodge. Cedric seized his crossbow again from Egbert's hands. And they back within, he commanded. I will soon stop the coursing of these blood beasts. Egbert leaped through the door again to the inner room and Cedric, throwing wide the shutter, was taking aim at the foremost of the hounds when I cried out from behind him, hold, hold, it is too late, there come the horsemen. From another point in the wood, not far from where the dogs had emerged, there were now riding toward us half a dozen mounted and we gazed upon them in utter dismay. Lord Gilroy and Sir Philip Carrington were in the lead and after them came three or four stout foresters and last of all upon an ambling palfrey, none other than Simon the dogmaster with his head bound round and round with a great white cloth. Cedric put away his bow and unbarring the door of the lodge stood on the step without, spurning away the hounds that sought to enter. Good morrow, gentlemen, he called full jovially. Good morrow, gentlemen, both, answered Lord Gilroy with a most wicked laugh. Your hunting does not prosper, said Cedric, paying no heed to the affront conveyed in Gilroy's sneering words. How not? Why, it would seem that your hounds have picked up our trail to the lodge here in place of that of their proper quarry as the best of dogs will do at times. I answered Lord Gilroy still with the evil smile on his face. The best of dogs and men do err at times, and yet to his passing strange they are so set upon it. See! they course about and about thy little lodge and will not leave it. Cedric cast a careless glance at the hounds. Then he said, Come, messieurs, can you not light for a moment and rest within? I cannot offer me and drink, for here we have none, but you may sit upon a bench by a fire while your men aid the hounds at finding the track again. Lord Gilroy, through his bridal reign to one of the foresters, leaped down from his horse and strode toward the door, and his nephew did likewise. Simon and the others withdrew to a little distance and dismounted by the brook where they called the hounds to them. When our most unwelcome guests were within the lodge, Cedric made haste for them the benches before the fireplace and again lamented that the place afforded nothing of refreshment. I made such talk as I might with Lord Gilroy and Sir Philip, asking them of the tourney at Winchester where they had lately ridden, the deer on Gilroy lands, and other like matters of no import. Gilroy's keen gray eyes roved over about the lodge and after one or two courteous replies to my questions, he asked of Cedric. Art sure, Grimsby, that that inner room contains no cask or wine-skin would seem else that by lodges but meagerly furnished. I, to so, answered Cedric at once. Again our guest glanced keenly at Sir Cedric while I breathed shortly indeed. But he said no more and now I made diversion by asking Sir Philip if it was true that the carringtons are whilst descended. A new full welt was not much and was hugely pleased when he denied it hotly and went on at greatest length to prove his family of pure Norman blood by reciting all the quarterings on the carrington shield and their origins in the days before the conquest. At last Lord Gilroy stood erect and said to my great and joyful relief Well-a-day, we must fare on if ever we are to take that renegade. The sunbeams already slope far to westward and till soon be. But there his words were of a sudden checked and he stood staring at a point on the floor beneath the bench three yards away. There, where half an hour before all had been deepest shadow the sloping beam of the afternoon sun now rested and brought to clear and certain view the iron collar. With an oath he sprang forward and seized it, holding it up before us he read in a loud voice the graven words. Thrawl of William, Lord of Gilroy. Cedric stood facing him and none of us spoke any word. Then Gilroy flung the collar on the floor and burst forth Ah, then, tis even as I thought one churl will help another in any straight. At this insult to my comrade my hand flew to where my good sword should have been and I ground my teeth to find it not. But Gilroy paid no heed to me. Instantly he sprang forward toward the inner door. We'll see what lies within, he shouted. But Cedric de la Roche was quicker yet. He leaped before the door and with a mighty push sent Lord Gilroy half across the room. Then both Gilroy and Carrington drew swords and rushed upon us. By this time I had gathered my wits and recalling the goodly weapon at my very back had turned and seized the rusted broadsword from above the fireplace. I was but just in time to receive the attack of both of them at once for Cedric stooped to reach his crossbow which rested against the wall ready drawn and with the bolt he had meant for the hound still in groove. For a moment I withstood the double attack. Then Sir Philip only was before me. He fought fiercely enough for Soothe but in a most rubberly fashion. Half a dozen strokes and I caught his weapon with a twist I had long practiced and sent it clattering across the floor. Then with loud menaces of running him through the body I drove him before me to the wall where I made him stand with hands above his head. Glancing sideways I now beheld the Lord of Gilroy in the same pitiful plight. His weapon also lay on the floor and Cedric stood before him with crossbow leveled at his heart. "'Wilt thou slayest then?' growled Gilroy in unseemly brawl over this runigate. "'Nay!' answered Cedric sweetly. But ye are our prisoners duly taken. If we grant your lives and arms you shall give us nightly word to retire from the lands of Grimsby and give or this bloody hunting you were bent upon.' "'That word we give,' said Gilroy shortly. We instantly lowered our weapons and stooping lifted the swords from the floor and returned them to their owners. Simon the dogmaster opened the door and thrust in his bandaged head wherein one eye was purple and swollen with a blow it had received from the whip-butt. Behind him stood two of the foresters. "'Return thou till I call thee!' shouted Gilroy furiously. When they had retired once more to the brookside our late antagonists turned again to leave the lodge. At the door Lord Gilroy paused and spake again slowly and as one that fully weighs his words. Our word is given to leave the lands of Grimsby and thus to allow this thrall to escape. But no promise have we given as to ought else. Mayhap the king will listen when I send him word at Winchester how his vassal so newly of the fee of Grimsby is bearing himself. Mayhap it will not seem to him quite fitting that one who holds his lands in fee should with deceit and with violence shelter misdoing churls from their lawful masters. I caught my breath in dismay. Such a threat I knew the crafty Gilroy quite capable of carrying out. For myself I had little concern. The Mount Joys were too strong in the western country and too valuable to the king's cause for any such matter to bring down upon us any serious menace. But Cedric was a Yeoman born and many there were to think with spite and envy of his rise to nightly dignity. Then Cedric spoke again, his words being pronounced with the same slow heedfulness with which the lord of Gilroy had uttered his threat a moment since. "'Tis true, my lord, that not prevents thee from sending or carrying out the vassal so newly of the vassal so newly of the fee of Grimsby is bearing himself. Mayhap it will soon be vacant once more.' Then Cedric spoke again, his words not prevents thee from sending or carrying this tale to the king "'Tis also true, and this mayhap thou hast forgotten that not prevents me in the event of thy wishing to carry this quarrel further from taking to the king the full account, well known to me though thou hast thought it hidden of thy doings and those of the Carringtons during the weeks that followed the king's return to England, and while his traitorous son, with the aid of certain gentlemen who might have been more loyally employed, strove to keep him from his throne and even, so to say, to deprive him of life. Before the half of this had been spoken, the face of Lord Gilroy had grown pale as death, and he seemed to shrink a full hands-breath in stature. His nephew gazed from one to the other of us with whitened cheeks and as soon as Cedric had finished Lord Gilroy began in a tone far different from any he had used that day. Nay, nay, Grimsby and Mountjoy both, why should we make of this trifling despite or a renegade thrall such a matter of bitter menacing? In truth twer well should we all forget this day of petty quarreling and live in neighborly peace henceforth. Nothing would better please me," quoth Mountjoy pursued Lord Gilroy. What say as thou? With all my heart," I replied. Lord Gilroy seemed about to offer his hand in token of our reconciliation, but may have something in our faces stayed him. With a hurried bow he turned once more to the door of the lodge. After him went Sir Philip, reminding me in his shrunken confidence of a rain drenched shanticleer. At the Brookside they climbed and without a word to their followers spurred away through the forest. An hour later Egbert, the freeman, astride a good horse from the Grimsby stables with crossbow in hand and gold in pouch was riding through the twilight on the road to Shrewsbury.