 Chapter 1 of The Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Susan Unpleby. The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Chapter 1 Here is a story that has lain dormant for 700 years. At first it was suppressed by one of the Pontaginate kings of England. Later it was forgotten. I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident being the relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain father superior in a very ancient monastery in Europe. He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts, and I came across this. It is very interesting, partially since it is a bit of hitherto unrecorded history. Principally from the fact that it records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous life of its innocent victim, Richard, the lost prince of England. In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. What interested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves, the visored horseman who, but let us wait until we get to him. It all happened in the 13th century, and while it was happening, it shook England from north to south and from east to west, and reached across the channel and shook France. It started directly in the London Palace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the king and his powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Monfort, Earl of Leicester. Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can read all about it at your leisure. But on this June day, in the year of our Lord, 1243, Henry so forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse de Monfort of treason, in the presence of a number of the king's gentlemen. De Monfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himself to his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of his wrath, as he did that day, he was very imposing. A power in England, second only to the king himself, and with the heart of a lion in him. He answered the king as no other man in all England would have dared answer him. My Lord King, he cried, that you be my Lord King alone, prevent Simon de Monfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult. That you take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare say were you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you a coward. Tenth silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers, as these awful words fell from the lips of a subject addressed to his king. They were horrified, for de Monfort's bold challenge was to them but little short of sacrilege. Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon de Monfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he thought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty sneer, turned to his courtiers. Come, my gentlemen, he said. Me thought that we were to have a turn with the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, de Faume, come, layborn. And the king left the apartment followed by his gentlemen, all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it became apparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him. As the arrows fell behind the departing king, de Monfort shrugged his broad shoulders and, turning, left the apartment by another door. When the king, with his gentlemen, entered the armory, he was still smarting from the humiliation of de Monfort's reproaches. And as he laid aside his circote and plumbed hat to take the foils with de Faume, his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules-de-Vac, who was advancing with the king's foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for fencing with de Faume, who, like the other sycophants that surrounded him, always allowed the king easily to best him in every encounter. De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman, to permit himself to be overcome by ought but superior skill. And this day Henry felt that he could best the devil himself. The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the guard room. It was built in a small wing of the building, so that it had light from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-skinned Sir Jules-de-Vac. And it was he whom Henry commanded to face him in mimic combat with the foils. For the king wished to go with hammer and tongs at someone, to vent his suppressed rage. So he let de Vac assume in his mind's eye the person of the hated de Monfort. And it followed that de Vac was nearly surprised into an early and mortifying defeat by the king's sudden and clever attack. Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day he quite outdid himself, and in his imagination was about to run the pseudo de Monfort through the heart to the wild acclaim of his audience. For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded de Vac twice around the hall when, with a clever feint and backward step, the master of fence drew the king into the position he wanted him. And, with the suddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry's weapon clanging across the floor of the armory. For an instant the king stood as tense and white as though the hand of death had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers. The episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the best swordsmen in England. For that surely was no disgrace. To Henry it seemed prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should stand face to face with the real de Monfort. And then, seen in de Vac only the creature of his imagination with which he had vested the likeness of his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like to have done to the real Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced close to de Vac. Dog, he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow across the face and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode from the armory. De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he hated all things English and all Englishmen. The dead king John, though hated by all others, he had loved. But with the dead king's bones, de Vac's loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the cathedral of Worcester. During the years he had served as master of fence at the English court, the sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only de Vac could teach the art. And he had been as conscientious in the discharge of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred and contempt for his pupils. And now the English king had put upon him such an insult as might only be wiped out by blood. As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together and throwing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue before his master. White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he spoke no word. He might have struck the king, but then there would have been left to him no alternative saved death by his own hand. For a king may not fight with a lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live. The king's honor must be satisfied. Had a French king struck him, de Vac would have struck back and gloried in the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France. But an English king, a dog, and who would die for a dog? No, de Vac would find other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would revel in revenge against this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If possible, he would harm the whole of England if he could, but he would bite his time. He could afford to wait for his opportunity if, by waiting, he could encompass a more terrible revenge. De Vac had been born in Paris. The son of a French officer reputed the best swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footsteps of his father until, on the latter's death, he could easily claim the title of his sire. How he had left France and entered the service of John of England is not of this story. All the bearing that the life of Jeu de Vac has upon the history of England hinges upon but two of his many attributes. His wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for his adopted country. End of chapter 1 Chapter 2 of The Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Susan Umpleby The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs, Chapter 2 South of the Armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens. And here, on the third day following the kings affront to De Vac, might have been seen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet sicklass, richly embroidered with gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose pointed sleeves, which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of a garment. A richly wrought leather girdle studded with precious stones and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold clasp the garment about her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdle after the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger of beautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimple of violet silk bordered in gold fringe lay becomingly over her head and shoulders. By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad like his companion in gay colors. His tiny circot of scarlet velvet was rich with embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white silk. His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were cross-guarded with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On the back of his brown curls sat a flat brimmed round-crowned hat in which a single plume of white waved and knotted bravely at each move of the proud little head. The child's features were well molded, and his frank bright eyes gave an expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have been too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with his companion, little flash as a preemptory authority and dignity, which sat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to turn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she could scarce repress. Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little bush near them, said, Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush, I would play it toss. The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place and turned to face him, the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played beneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the ball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he made a particularly good catch. In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim, gray old man leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in a malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line. He looked upon the garden and the plain child, and upon the lovely young woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for Devak was working out a great problem, the greatest of all his life. For three days the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for some means to be revenged upon the king for the insult which Henry had put upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd and cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of the terrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded. His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled political conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he might rest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses and to the harm and possibly the undoing of the king. For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory when the king played its sword with his friends and favorites, Devak had heard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that could well be turned to the king's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy. With all England he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the terms of the Magna Carta, which he so often violated along with his kingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, Devak had gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory, that Henry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries and with Louis IX of France for a sufficient force of knights and minute arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons, that he might effectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the royal prerogative of the Plantagenance to misrule England. If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought Devak, the point of landing of the foreign troops, their numbers, the first point of attack, ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the king in this venture so dear to his heart? A word to declare or demonfort would bring the barons and their retainers 40,000 strong to overwhelm the king's forces, and he would let the king know to whom and for what cause he was beholden for his defeat and discomforture. Possibly the barons would depose Henry and place a new king upon England's throne, and then Devak would mock the Plantagenant to his face. Sweet, kind, delectable vengeance indeed, and the old man licked his thin lips as though to taste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel. And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where the old man stood, and as the child ran, laughing to recover it, Devak's eyes fell upon him and his former plan of revenge melted as the fog before Noonday's son. And in its stead there opened to him the whole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were rid upon the leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him. And, insofar as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the details of that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the twenty years which followed. The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal father was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of England. No published history mentions this little lost prince. Only the secret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strange and adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the records of men, and the revenge of Devak has passed from the eyes of the world, though in his time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of the English. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of The Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Susan Unpleby The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 3 In nearly a month the old man haunted the palace and watched in the gardens for the little prince until he knew the daily routine of his tiny life with his nurses and governesses. He saw that when the lady Maud accompanied him, they were want to repair to the far-thermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a little postern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the guards to whom the queen had forbidden the privilege of the court. There, in the secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and plans, unmindful of the royal charge plain neglected among the flowers and shrubbery of the garden. Toward the middle of July, Devak had his plans well laid. He had managed to coax old Bruce, the gardener, into letting him have the key to the little postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnight escapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner of his adventure. And, what was more to the point with Bruce, at the same time slipping a couple of golden seconds into the gardener's palm. Bruce, like the other palace servants, considered Devak a loyal retainer of the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief Devak might be up to, Bruce was quite sure that insofar as the king was concerned, the key to the postern gate was as safe in Devak's hands as though Henry himself had it. The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence should, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more befitting the younger sprigs of gentility. But then, what concern was it of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the garden so that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shaded walks, the well-kept sword, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants and blooming flowers, which he set with such wondrous precision in the formal garden? Further, two gold seconds were not often come by so easily as this. And if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit in his infinite wisdom to take this means of rewarding his poor servant, it ill-became such a worm as he to ignore the divine favor. So Bruce took the gold seconds and Devak the key, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of his royal father's garden, and all were satisfied. Which was as it should have been. That night Devak took the key to a locksmith on the far side of London, one who could not possibly know him or recognize the key as belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waiting impatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments of his time. From this little shop Devak threaded his way through the dirty lanes and alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional smoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance from the palace. A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of the Thames and a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of the river rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath the dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dock rats and their fiercer human anti-types. Several times Devak paced the length of this black alley in search of the little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it, and after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened by a slateringly old hag. What would she have a decent woman at such an ungodly hour? She grumbled. Ah, to see my lord? She added hastily as the flickering rays of the candle she bore to hide it up Devak's face. Welcome, my lord! Thrice, welcome! The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother. Silence, old hag! cried Devak. Is it not enough that you leech me of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles of Velosa and feast on semnal bread in Malmsey that you must needs burden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue? Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key also to this gate to perdition? And the room did set to rights the furnishings I had delivered here and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and cobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the dead Romans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Many things, too, from the stink they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty with their herds. And I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched room to the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin. Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan! cried the woman. I would rather hear thy money talk than thou for though it come accursed and tainted from thy rogue hand yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice as it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church. The bundle is ready, she continued, closing the door after Devak, who had now entered and hear me the key. But first let us have a payment. I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from the secrecy which you have demanded. And I, dear, say, there will be some who would pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child, thy sister and her son you tell me they be who you are so anxious to hide away in old Till's garret. So it be well for you, my lord, to pay old Till well and add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if you would that your prisoner find peace in old Till's house. Fetch me the bundle hag, replied Devak, and you shall have gold against a final settlement more even than we bargained for if all goes well and thou holdest thy bile tongue. But the old woman's threats had already caused Devak a feeling of uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in the old woman, had she known the determination her words had caused in the mind of the old master of fence. His venture was far too serious and the results of exposure too fraught with danger to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyal fellow conspirator. True he had not even hinted at the enormity of the plot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, his stern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions and with them her curiosity and cupidity. So it was that old Till might well have quelled in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessed the thoughts which passed in Devak's mind. But the extra gold pieces he dropped into her weathered palm as she delivered the bundle to him together with the promise of more he might effectually want her loyalty and her silence for the time being. Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle with his long circote, Devak stepped out into the darkness of the alley and hastened toward the dock. Beneath the planks he found a skip which he had moored there earlier in the evening and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle. Then, casting off, he rode slowly up the Thames until below the palace walls and he moored near to the little postern gate which led into the lower end of the garden. Hiding the skip as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to the water's edge, set there by order of the king to add to the beauty of the aspect from the riverside, Devak crept warily to the postern and, unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace. The next day he returned the original key to Bruce, telling the old man that he had not used it after all since mature reflection had convinced him of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose youth was past and in whose joints the night-damp of the Thames might find lodgement for rheumatism. Ha! sir Jules laughed the old gardener. Virtue and vice between sisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, desire. Were there no desire there would be no virtue and because one man desires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of his desire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand, if my friend desires his own wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not that likewise virtue since we desire the same thing? But if to obtain our desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, then it were virtue to remain at home. Right, you sound old mole, said DeVac, smiling. Would that I might learn to reason by your wondrous logic? May thanks it might stand me in good stead before I be much older. The best sword-arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the sword, I should think, said Bruce, returning to his work. That afternoon, DeVac stood in the window of the armory, looking out upon the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two hundred yards away. In the foreground were box-boarded walks, smooth sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants. While here and there marble statues of Wood Nymph and Seder gleamed, sparkling in the brilliant sunlight or half-shaded by an overhanging bush took on a semblance of light from the riotous play of light and shadow as the leaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in the distance, the river wall was hidden by more closely masked bushes, and the formal geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by a background of vine-colored bowers and a profusion of small trees and flowering shrubs arranged in study disorder. Through the seeming jungle ran tortuous paths and the carved stone benches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats and swing suspended from the branches of fruit trees. Toward this enchanting spot, slowly were walking the Lady Maude and her little charge, Prince Richard, all ignorant of the malicious watcher in the window behind them. A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as Richard ran childlike after it, Lady Maude hastened on to the little postern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had been waiting without. Relocking the gate, the two strolled arm in arm to the little bower, which was their tristing place. As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little prince played happily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern, determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distance from the plain boy. Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly, which fate led nearer and nearer to the cold hard watcher in the bushes. Closer and closer came the little prince, and, in another moment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs and stood facing the implacable master of fence. Your Highness, said Devak, bowing to the little fellow. Let old Devak help you catch the pretty insect. Richard, having often seen Devak, did not fear him, and so together they started in pursuit of the butterfly, which by now had passed out of sight. Devak turned their steps toward the little poster gate, but when he would have passed through with the tiny prince, the latter rebelled. Come, my Lord Prince, urged Devak. Methinks the butterfly did but a light without the wall. We can have it and return within the garden in an instant. Go thyself and fetch it, replied the prince, that King, my father, has forbidden me stepping without the palace grounds. Come, commanded Devak more sternly. No harm can come to you. But the child hung back and would not go with him, so that Devak was forced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and alarm from the royal child. Unhand me, sir, I screamed the boy. How dare you lay hands on a prince of England? Devak clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries, but it was too late. Devak and her lover had heard, and in an instant they were rushing toward the posture gate, the officer drawing his sword as he ran. When they reached the wall, Devak and the prince were upon the outside, and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate. But handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key before the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out before the master of fence, closely followed by the lady mod. Devak dropped the key, and, still grasping the now thoroughly frightened prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted the officer. There were no words. There was no need of words. Devak's intentions were too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each other with grim fury, the brave officer facing the best swordsman that France had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince. At that moment, Devak had disarmed him, but contrary to the laws of chivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged through the heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped between lady mod and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the garden and give alarm. Still grasping the trembling child and his iron grip, he stood facing the lady and waiting, his back against the door. She cried, Has Thou gone mad? No, my lady, he answered, but I had not thought to do the work which now lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head, and let his patron say look after the welfare of this princeling? Your rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you or I, my lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself for death. Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by the great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de Monfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap still further indignities upon him, with the intention of degrading and humiliating him that he might leave England forever. The king feared this mighty kinsman, who so boldly advised him against the weak follies which were bringing his kingdom in a condition of revolution. What the outcome of this audience would have been, none may say. For Leicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came an interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier in a common affliction that touched the hearts of all. There was a commotion at one side of the room. The heiress parted, and Eleanor Queen of England staggered toward the throne, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. Oh, my lord, my lord! she cried. Richard, our son, has been assassinated and thrown into the Thames. In an instant all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the king finally obtained a coherent statement from his queen. It seemed that when the lady Maude had not returned to the palace with Prince Richard at the proper time, the queen had been notified, and an immediate search had been instituted. A search which did not end for over twenty years. But the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the court to stone. For there, beside the open poster gate, lay the dead bodies of Lady Maude and a certain officer of the guards. But nowhere was there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of England, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm. It was two days before the absence of Divac was noted. And then it was that one of the lords in waiting to the king reminded his majesty of the episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the king's little son became apparent. An edict was issued, requiring the examination of every child in England, for on the left breast of the little prince was a birthmark which closely resembled a lily, and when after a year no child was found bearing such a mark and no trace of Divac uncovered the search was carried into France. Nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time for more than twenty years. The first theory of assassination was quickly abandoned when it was subjected to the light of reason. For it was evident that an assassin could have dispatched the little prince at the same time that he killed the Lady Maude and her lover. Had such been his desire. The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had always been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members of the king's household. Thus, for a time, the rupture between de Montfort and his king was healed. And although the great nobleman was divested of his authority in Gascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royal master. End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 of The Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Susan Umpleby The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 4 As de Vex drew his sword of the Lady Maude, he winced. For merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Too far had he gone, however, to back down now, and had he left the Lady Maude alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the city of London would have been on his heels in ten minutes. There would have been no escape. The little prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and whimper in his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible de Vex that a threat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim old man led into the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes. De Vex did not dare remain in this retreat until dark as he had first intended. Instead he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneath the thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a cotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair. Concealing the child beneath the wrinkles of clothing, he pushed off from the bank and, rowing close to the shore, hastened down the Thames toward the old dock where, the previous night, he had concealed his skiff. He reached his destination unnoticed and, running in beneath the dock, worked the boat far into the dark recess of the cave-like retreat. Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen for he knew that the search would be on for the little lost prince at any moment and none might traverse the streets of London without being subject to the closest scrutiny. Taking advantage of the forced weight, De Vex undressed the prince and clothed him in other garments which had been wrapped in the bundle hidden beneath the thwart, a little red cotton tunic with hose to match, a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap. The discarded clothing of the prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn from the disintegrating masonry of the river wall to the voiceless river. The prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and, finding that De Vex seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow commenced questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this strange adventure getting the better of his former apprehension. What do we hear, Sir Jules? he asked. Take me back to the kings, my father's palace. I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments you have placed upon me. Silence, boy! commended the old man. Sir Jules will be dead, nor are you a king's son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me hear you speak the name, Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince. The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor. Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry maybe, helpless and hopeless in the hands of this cruel enemy. All his royalty is nothing, all gone with the silk and finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames. And presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the skiff. When darkness had settled De Vex pushed the skiff outward to the side of the dock, and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood listening, preparatory to mount into the alley the old Till's place. As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive ears. Louder and louder it grew, until there could be no doubt that a number of men were approaching. De Vex resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath the dock. Scarcely had he done so, ere a party of armored knights and minute arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the dark alley. As though for consultation, and plainly could the listener below hear every word of their conversation. Demonfort said one, What thinkest thou of it? Can it be that the Queen is right, and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters? No, declare, replied a deep voice which De Vex recognized as that of the Earl of Leicester. The hand that could steal the Prince from out of the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of the Lady Maude or her companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easily and safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been the object of this strange attack. I think, my lord, that presently we shall hear from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince for ransom. God give that such may be the case, for of all the winsome and affectionate little fellows I have ever seen, not even accepting mine own, dear son, the little Richard was the most to be beloved. Would that I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done this horrid deed. Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the object of his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and the voices above him had awakened the little Prince, and with a startled cry he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De Vex' iron hand clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail had reached the ears of the men above. Hark! What was that, my lord? cried one of the men at arms. In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound, and then De Montfort cried out, What ho! Below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer in the name of the king! Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free himself, but De Vex' ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening for a repetition of the sound. Dock rats said to Claire, and then as though the devil guided them to protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose boards and ran squealing up the dark alley. Right you are, said De Montfort, but I could have sworn it was a child's feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine own eyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no success here, though that old hag who called herself Till seemed over anxious to bargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to give us. As they moved off their voices grew fainter in the ears of the listeners beneath the dock, and soon were lost in the distance. A close shave, thought De Vex, as he again took up the child and prepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him, he soon reached the door to Till's house, and, inserting the key, crept noiselessly to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored hostess. There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above. This ascent being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vex pulled up after him, closing and securing the aperture through which he climbed with his burden by means of a heavy trap door and thick bars. The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east end of the building, and had windows upon three sides. These were heavily curtained. The apartment was slided by a small crescent hanging from a rafter near the center of the room. The walls were unplastered, and the rafters unsealed, the hall bearing a most barn-like and unhospitable appearance. In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room, a smaller cot. A cupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings. These articles De Vex had purchased for the room against the time when he should occupy it with his little prisoner. On the table was a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing honey, a pitcher of milk, and two drinking horns. To these, De Vex immediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of what he wished. Hunger for the moment overcame the little prince's fears, and he set to with avidity upon the strange, rough fare made doubly coarse by the rude utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal magnificence of his palace apartments. While the child ate, De Vex hastened to the lower floor of the building in search of Till, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. The words of de Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge, which must be removed as had the Lady Maude. But in this instance, there was neither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, or to cause the grim executioner a pang of remorse. When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the street. In fact, he intercepted her at the very door of the building. Still clad as he was in the mantel and wimple of an old woman, he asked him. And when he spoke, she burst into a nervous cackling laugh as one caught in the perpetration of some questionable act. Nor did her manner escape the shrewd notice of the wildly master offence. With her old hag, he asked, To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end by the river, my lord, she replied with more respect than she had been want to accord him. Then I will accompany you partway, friend, and perchance, you can give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I had lured there. And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the rickety dismantled dock. The one thinking of the vast reward the king would lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could give, the other feeling beneath his mantel for the hilt of a long dagger which nestled there. As they reached the water's edge, Devak was walking with his right shoulder behind his companion's left. In his hand was gripped the keen blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just below her left shoulder blade plunged soundless into her heart at the same instant that Devak's left hand swung up and grasped her throat in a grip of steel. There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening old muscles, and then with a push from Devak, the body lunged forward into the Thames where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope that Prince Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his nemesis. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of The Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Susan Uncle B. The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 5 For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent old woman lived in the heart of London within a stone's throw of the King's Palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of an old building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad alone nor by day, and upon his left breast was a strange mark that resembled a lily. When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room with bolted door behind her she was want to straighten up and discard her dingy mantle for more comfortable and becoming doublet in hose. For years she worked assiduously with a little boy's education. There were three subjects in her curriculum French, swordsmanship and hatred of all things English, especially the England. The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the little boy the art of fence when he was but three years old. You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty, my son she was want to say and then you shall go out and kill many Englishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth of England and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck then will I speak then shall they know. The little boy did not understand at all. He only knew that he was comfortable and had warm clothing and all he required to eat and that he would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real sword and had grown large enough to wield one. He also knew that he hated Englishmen but why he did not know. Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little childish head he seemed to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very different when instead of this old woman there had been many people around him and a sweet-faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed him before he was taken off to bed at night. But he could not be sure maybe it was only a dream he remembered for he dreamed many strange and wonderful dreams. When the little boy was about to age a strange man came to their attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk of the evening but the old woman did not light the crescent and further she whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far corner of the bare chamber. The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost his entire face except for two piercing eyes a great nose and a bit of wrinkled forehead. When he spoke he accompanied his words with many shrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and other strange and amusing gestulations. The child was fascinated. Here was the first amusement of his little starved life. He listened intently to the conversation which was in French. I have just the thing for madam the stranger was saying it be a noble and stately hall far from the beaten way it was built in the old days by Harold the Saxon but in later times death and poverty and the disfavor of the king have rested it from his descendants. A few years since Henry granted it to that spin through favorite of his Henry de Macy who pledged it to me for a sum he have been unable to repay. Today it be my property and as it be far from Paris you may have it for the mere song I have named. It be a wondrous bargain madam. And when I come upon it I shall find that I have bought a crumbling pile of ruined masonry unfit to house a family of foxes replied the old woman peevishly. One tower have fallen and the roof for half the length of one wing have sagged and tumbled in explained the old Frenchman but the three lower stories be intact and quite habitable it be much grander even now than the castles of many of England's noble barons and the price madam the price be so ridiculously low. Still the old woman hesitated come said the Frenchman I have it deposit the money with Isaac the Jew thou knowest him and he shall hold it together with the deed for forty days which will give the ample time to travel to Derby and inspect thy purchase if thou be not entirely satisfied Isaac the Jew shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me but if at the end of forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money then shall Isaac send the deed to thee and the money to me be not this an easy and fair way out of the difficulty the little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that it seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter as it was accomplished several days later the little old woman called the child to her we shall start tonight upon a long journey to our new home thy face shall be wrapped in many rags for thou hast a most grievous toothache dost understand but I have no toothache my teeth do not pain me at all I expostulated the child tut tut interrupted the little old woman thou hast a toothache and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags and listen should any ask thee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped thou art to say that thou hast a toothache and thou do not do as I say the king's men will take us and we shall be hanged for the king hateeth us and if thou hateest the English king and loveest thy life do as I command I hate the king replied the little boy for this reason I shall do as thou sayest so it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north toward the hills of Derby for many days they traveled riding upon two small donkeys strange sights filled the days for the little boy who remembered nothing outside the bear attic of his London home and the dirty London alleys they wound across beautiful park like meadows and through dark forbidding forests and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of thatched tuts occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway alone or in small parties but the child's companion always managed to hasten in to cover at the roadside until the grim riders had passed once as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little shade across which the road wound the boy saw two knights enter the glade from either side for a moment they drew rain and eyed each other in silence and then one a great black mailed knight upon a black charger cried out something to the other which the boy could not catch the other knight made no response other than to rest his lance upon his thigh and with lowered point ride toward his ebb and adversary for a dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another but presently the knights urged them into full gallop and when the two iron men on their iron trap chargers came together in the center of the glade it was with all the terrific impact of full charge the lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his fulmin the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon the gray rider into the dust of the highway the momentum of the black carried him fifty faces beyond the fallen horseman before his rider could reign him in then the black knight turned to view the havoc he had wrought the gray horse was just staggering dizzily to his feet but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen with raised visor the black knight rode back to the side of his vanquished foe there was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned toward the prostrate form he spoke tauntingly but there was no response then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear even this elicited no movement with a shrug of his ironclad shoulders the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he had disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encircling forest the little boy was spellbound not like this had he ever seen or dreamed someday thou shalt go and do likewise my son said the little old woman shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed he asked yes and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance and mighty sword and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and death for every man shall be thy enemy but come we must be on our way they rode on leaving the dead night where he had fallen but always in his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen longing for the day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight on another day as they were biting in a deserted hovel to escape the notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up country with their wares they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised and defenseless tradesmen ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were armed mostly with bludgeons and daggers with here and there a crossbow without mercy they attacked the old and the young beating them down in cold blood even when they offered no resistance those of the caravan who could escaped the balance my woman left dead or dying in the road as they hurried away with their loot at first the child was horror struck but when he turned to the little old woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips she noted his expression of dismay it is not my son but English curse setting upon English swine some day thou shall sell upon both they be only fit for killing the boy made no reply but he thought a great deal about that which he had seen knights were cruel to knights the poor were cruel to the rich and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor he had seen them in all their sorrow and misery and poverty stretching in a long scattering line all the way from London town their poor thin bodies and their hopeless sorrowful faces attesting the weary wretchedness of their existence be no unhappy in all the world he once broke out to the old woman only he who wields the mightiest sword responded the old woman you have seen my son that all Englishmen are beasts they set upon and kill one another for a little provocation or for no provocation at all when thou shalt be older thou shalt go forth and kill them all for unless thou kill them they will kill thee at length after tiresome days upon the road they came to a little hamlet in the hills here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse purchased upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting country away from the beaten track that evening they approached a ruined castle the frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond and where a portion of the roof had fallen in the cold moon shining through the narrow unglazed windows gave to the mighty pile the lightness of a huge mini-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a deserted world for nowhere was there other sign of habitation before this somber pile the two dismounted the little boy was filled with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the crumbling Barbican on foot leading the horse after them from the dark shadows of the ballium they passed into the moonlit inner court at the far end the old woman found the ancient stables and here with decaying planks she penned the horse for the night pouring a measure of oats upon the floor a bag which had hung across his rump then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle lighting their advance with a flickering pine knot the old planking of the floors long unused groaned and rattled beneath their approach there was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them and a red fox dashed by in a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night presently they came to the great hall the old woman pushed open the great doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty cavernous interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch as they stepped cautiously within an impalpable dust rose in little spurts from the long rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet a huge bat circled wildly with loud fluttering wings and evident remonstrance at this rude intrusion strange creatures of the night scurried or wriggled across wall and floor but the child was unafraid fear had not been a part of the old woman's curriculum the boy did not know the meaning of the word nor was he ever in his afterlife to experience this sensation with childish eagerness he followed his companion as she inspected the interior of the chamber it was still an imposing room the boy clapped his hands in delight at the beauties of the carved and paneled walls and the oak-beamed ceiling stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oil crescents that had lighted it in bygone days aided no doubt by the wood fires which had burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the merry throng of noble revelers that had so often sat about the great table into the morning hours here they took up their abode but the bent old woman was no longer an old woman she had become a straight, wiry, active old man the little boy's education went on French, swordsmanship and hatred of the English the same thing year after year with the addition of horsemanship after he was ten years old at this time the old man commenced teaching him to speak English but with a studied and very marked French accent during all his life now he could not remember of having spoken to any living being other than his guardian whom he had been taught to address as father nor did the boy have any name he was just my son his life in the Derby Hills was so filled with the hard, exacting duties of his education that he had little time to think of the strange loneliness of his existence nor is it probable that he missed that companionship of others of his own age of which never having had experience in it he could scarce be expected to regret or yearn for at fifteen the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman and with an utter contempt for pain or danger a contempt which was the result of the heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him often the two practice with razor sharp swords and without armor or other protection of any description thus only the old man was want to say mayest thou become the absolute master of thy blade of such a nicety must be thy handling of the weapon that thou mayest touch an antagonist at will and so lightly shouldst thou desire that thy point wholly under the control of a master hand mayest be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch but in practice there were many accidents and then one or both of them would nurse a punctured skin for a few days so while blood was often lead on both sides the trainee produced a fearless swordsman who was so truly the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within a fraction of an inch of the spot he sought at fifteen he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad bronze and hearty from his outdoor life a few words for there was none that he might talk with save the taciturn old man hating the English for that he was taught as thoroughly a swordsmanship speaking French fluently and English poorly and waiting impatiently for the day when the old man should send him out into the world with clanking armor and lance and shield to do battle with the knights of England it was about this time that there was the first important break in the monotony of his existence far down the rocky trail that led from the valley below through the derby hills to the ruined castle three armored knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill autumn day off the main road and far from any habitation they had aspired the castle's towers through a rift in the hills and now they spurred toward it in search of food and shelter they led them winding higher into the hills they suddenly emerged upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes which caused them to draw rain and watch in admiration there before them upon the downs a boy battled with a lunging rearing horse a perfect demon of a black horse striking and biting in a frenzy of rage it sought ever to escape or injure the life figure which clung leech like to its shoulder the boy was on the ground his left hand grasped the heavy mane his right arm lay across the beast's withers and his right hand drew steadily in upon a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch about the horse's muzzle now the black reared and wheeled striking and biting full upon the youth but the active figure swung with him always just behind the giant shoulder and ever and ever he drew the great arched neck farther to the right as the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps he dragged the boy with him but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the grip upon mane and withers suddenly he reared straight up into the air carrying the youth with him then with a vicious lunge he threw himself backward upon the ground it's death exclaimed one of the knights he will kill the youth yet Boscham cried he addressed look he is up again and the boy still clings as tightly to him as his own black hide it's true exclaimed another but he hath lost what he had gained upon the halter he must needs fight it all out again from the beginning and so the battle went on again as before the boy again drawing the iron neck slowly to the right the beast fighting and squealing as though possessed of a thousand devils a dozen times as the head bent farther and farther toward him the boy loosed his hold upon the mane and reached quickly down to grasp the near forward pastor a dozen times the horse shook off the new hold but at length the boy was successful and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow now the black fought at a disadvantage for he was on but three feet and his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position his efforts became weaker and weaker the boy talked incessantly to him in a quiet voice and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips now he bore heavily upon the black withers pulling the horse toward him slowly the beast sank upon his bent knee pulling backward until his off foreleg was stretched straight before him then with a final surge the youth pulled him over upon his side and as he fell slipped prone beside him when sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the black chin the other grasped a slim pointed ear for a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty but with his head held to the earth he was as powerless in the hands of the boy as a baby would have been then he sank panting and exhausted into mute surrender well done cried one of the knights Simon de Montfort himself never mastered a horse and better order my boy who be thou in an instant the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the speaker the horse released spring up also and the two stood the handsome boy and the beautiful black gazing with startled eyes like two wild things at the strange intruder who confronted them come sir Mortimer cried the boy and turning into the prancing but subdued animal toward the castle and threw the ruined Barbican into the court beyond what hold there lad shouted paul of mealy we would not harm thee come we but ask the way to the castle of Distutaville the three knights listened but there was no answer come sir knights spoke paul of mealy we will ride within and learn what manner of churls inhabit this as they entered the great courtyard magnificent even in its ruined grandeur they were met by a little grim old man who asked them in no gentle tones what they would of them there we have lost our way in these devilish derby hills of thine old man replied paul of mealy we seek the castle of Sir John Distutaville ride down straight to the river road keeping the first trail to the right and when the house come there turn again to thy right and ride north beside the river thou canst not miss the way it be plain as the nose before thy face and with that the old man turned to enter the castle hold old fellow cried the spokesman it be nigh unto sunset now and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last we will tarry with you then till mourn that we may take up our journey refreshed upon rested steeds the old man grumbled and it was with poor grace that he took them in to feed and house them overnight but there was nothing else for it since they would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it voluntarily from their guests the two learned something of the conditions outside their derby hills the old man showed less interest than he felt but to the boy not withstanding that the names he heard to him it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of Earl and Baron Bishop and King if the king does not mend his ways said one of the knights we will drive his whole accursed pack of foreign bloodsuckers into the sea Demontford has told him as much a dozen times and now that all of us both Norman and Saxon Barons have already met together and formed a pack for our mutual protection the king must surely realize that the time for temporizing be passed and that unless he would have a civil war upon his hands he must keep the promises he so glibly makes instead of breaking them the moment Demontford's back be turned he fears his brother-in-law interrupted another of the knights even more than the devil fears holy water I was in attendance on his majesty some weeks since when he was going down the Thames on the royal barge we were overtaken by a severe a thunderstorm as I have ever seen of which the king was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land at the bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then were Demontford who was residing there came to meet Henry with all due respect observing what do you fear now Sire the tempest has passed and what thinkest thou old wax and heart replied why still trembling he said I do indeed fear thunder enlightening much but by the hand of God I tremble before you more than for all the thunder in heaven I surmise interjected the grim old man that Demontford has in some manner gained an incendancy over the king think you he looks so high as the throne itself not so cried the oldest of the nights Simon Demontford works for England's wheel alone and me thinks noist that he would be the first to spring to arms to save the throne for Henry he but fights the king's rank and covetous advisors and though he must need seem to defy the king himself it be but to save his tottering power from utter collapse but God how the king hates him for a time it seemed that there might be a permanent reconciliation when for years after the disappearance of little Prince Richard Demontford devoted much of his time and private fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for the little fellow of whom he was inordinately fond this self-sacrificing interest on his part won over the king and queen for many years but of late his unremitting hostility to their continued extravagant waste of the national resources has again hardened them toward him the old man growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened sent the youth from the room on some pretext and himself left to prepare supper as they were sitting at the evening meal one of the nobles eyed the boy intently for he was indeed good to look upon his bright handsome face clear intelligent grey eyes and square strong jaw framed in a mass of brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears where it was again cut square at the sides and back after the fashion of the times his upper body was clothed in a rough undertunic of wool stained red over which he wore a short leather and jerkin while his doublet was also of leather a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed dough skin his long hose fitting his shapely legs as closely as his hair of skin were of the same red wool as his tunic while his strong leather sandals were cross-guarded halfway to his knees with narrow bands of leather a leather and girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a round skull cap of the same material to which was fastened a falcons wing completed his picturesque and becoming costume your son he asked turning to the old man yes the growling responds he favors you but little old fellow except in his cursed French accent his blood bosom he continued turning to one of his companions and where he sat down in court I wager our gracious queen would be hard put to it to tell him from the young prince Edward did ever see so strange a likeness now that you speak of it my lord I see it plainly indeed a marvel answered bosom had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy they would have seen a blanched face drawn with inward fear and rage presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a grave quiet tone and how old might you be my son he asked the boy I do not know and your name I do not know what you mean I have no name my father calls me son and no other ever before addressed me at this juncture the old man arose and left the room saying he would fetch more food from the kitchen but he turned immediately he had passed the doorway and listened from without the lad appears about fifteen said paul of merely lowering his voice and so would be the little lost prince Richard if he lives this one does not know his name or his age yet he looks enough like Prince Edward to be his twin come my son he continued aloud open your jerken and let us have a look at your left breast we shall read a true answer there are you Englishmen asked the boy without making a move to comply with their demand that we be my son said bosom then it were better that I dive and do your bidding for all Englishmen are pigs and I love them as becomes a gentleman of France I do not uncover my body to the eyes of swine the nights at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak finally burst into uproarious laughter indeed cried paul of merely spoken as one of the king's foreign favorites might speak the good God's truth but come lad we would not harm you do as I bid no man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side answered the boy and as for doing as you bid I take orders from no man other than my father bosom and grazed oak laughed aloud at the discomforture of paul of merely but the latter's face hardened in anger and without further words he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy's leather and jerkin but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick sharp on guard from the boy there was not for paul of merely to do but draw his own weapon in self defense for the sharp point of the boy's sword was flashing in and out against his unprotected body inflicting painful little jabs and the boy's tongue was murmuring low tone taunts and insults as it invited him to draw and defend himself or be stuck like the English pig you are paul of merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing against the stripling but he argued that he could quickly disarm him without harming the lad and he certainly did not care to be further humiliated before his comrades but when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist he discovered that far from disarming him he would have the devil's own job of it to keep from being killed never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and dexterous enemy and as they backed this way and that about the room great beads of sweat stood upon the brow of paul of merely for he realized that he was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman the loud laughter of boshamp and gray stoke soon subsided to grim smiles and presently they looked drawn with startled faces in which fear and apprehension were dominant the boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse no sign of exertion was apparent and his haughty confident smile told louder than words that he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity around and around the room they circled the boy always advancing paul of merely always retreating the din of their clashing swords and the heavy breathing of the older man were the only sounds except as they brushed against a bench or a table paul of merely was a brave man but he shattered at the thought of dying uselessly at the hands of a mere boy he would not call upon his friends for aid but presently to his relief boshamp sprang between them with drawn sword crying enough gentlemen enough you have no quarrel sheath your swords but the boys only response was on guard kosho and boshamp found himself taking the center of the stage in place of his friend nor did the boy neglect paul of merely but engage them both in swordplay that caused the eyes of grey stoke to bulge from their sockets so swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of gleaming light and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile had frozen upon his lips grim and stern paul of merely and boshamp were wounded in a dozen places when grey stoke rushed to their aid and then it was that a little wiry grey man leaped agilely from the kitchen doorway and with drawn sword took his place beside the boy it was now two against three and the three may have guessed though they never knew that they were pitted against the two greatest swordsmen in the world to the death of the little grey man amour mon faece scarcely had the words left his lips ere as though it had but waited permission the boy's sword flashed into the heart of paul of merely and a Saxon gentleman was gathered to his fathers the old man engaged grey stoke now and the boy turned his undivided attention to boshamp both these men were considered excellent swordsmen but when boshamp heard again a man's amour mon faece he shuttered and the little hairs at the nape of his neck rose up and his spine froze for he knew that he had heard the sentence of death passed upon him for no mortal had yet lived to convinquish such a swordsman as he who now faced him as boshamp pitched forward across a bench dead the little old man led grey stoke to where the boy awaited him they are thy enemies my son and to thee belongs the pleasure of revenge amour mon faece grey stoke was determined to sell his life dearly and he rushed the lad as a great bull might rush a teasing dog but the boy gave back not an inch and when grey stoke stopped there was a foot of cold steel protruding from his back together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the back of the ruined castle first they had stripped them and when they took account of the spoils of the combat they found themselves richer by three horses with full trappings many pieces of gold and silver money ornaments and jewels as well as the lances, swords and chain mail armor of the erstwhile guests but the greatest gain the old man thought to himself was that the knowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and prince Edward of England had come to him in time to present the undoing of his life's work the boy, while young was tall and broad-shouldered and so the old man had little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to him obliterating the devices so that none might guess to whom it had belonged this he did and from then on the boy never rode abroad except in armor and when he met others upon the high road his visor was always lowered that none might see his face the day following the episode of the three nights the old man called the boy to him saying it is time, my son that thou learned an answer to such questions as were put to thee, Esther Eve by the pigs of Henry thou art fifteen years of age and thy name be Norman and so as this be the ancient castle of Torn thou mayest answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou art Norman of Torn that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchased Torn and brought the hither from France on the death of thy mother when thou art six years old but remember, Norman of Torn that the best answer for an Englishman is the sword not else may penetrate his thick wit and so was born that Norman of Torn whose name in a few short years was to strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen whose power in the vicinity of Torn was greater than that of the king or the barons End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of the Outlaw of Torn This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Richard Kilmer The Outlaw of Torn by Edgar Rice Burroughs Chapter 6 From now on the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in the handling of his lance and battle-axe but each day also a period was allotted to the sword until by the time the youth had turned sixteen even the old man himself was but a novice by comparison with the marvelous skills of his pupil During these days the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions until he knew every by-path within a radius of fifty miles of Torn Sometimes the old man accompanied him but more often he rode alone On one occasion he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small hamlet not far from Torn and with the curiosity of boyhood he determined to enter and have speech with the inmates for by this time the natural desire for companionship was commencing to assert itself In all his life he remembered only the company of the old man who never spoke except when necessity required The hut was occupied by an old priest and as the boy in armor pushed in without the usual formality of knocking the old man looked up at the conclusion of annoyance and disapproval What now, he said have the king's men respect neither for piety nor age that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so much as a by-year leave I am no king's man replied the boy quietly I am Norman of Torn who is neither a king nor a god and who says by-year leave to no man but I have come in peace to talk to another than my father therefore you may talk to me priest he concluded with haughty preemptorialness By the nose of John it must be a king has deigned to honor me with his commands laughed the priest Raise your visor my lord I would feign look upon the countenance from which issues the commands of royalty The priest was a large man with beaming kindly eyes and a round jovial face there was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort and so smiling the boy raised his visor By the ear of Gabriel cried the good father a child in armor A child in years may have replied the boy but a good child to own as a friend if one has enemies who wear swords Then we shall be friends Norman of Torn for albeit I have few enemies no man has too many friends and I like your face and your manner though there be much to wish for in your manners sit down and eat with me and I will talk to your heart's content for be there one thing I more love than eating it is talking With the priest's aid the boy laid aside his armor for it was heavy and uncomfortable and together the two sat down to the meal that was already partially on the board thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good priest whenever he could do so Norman of Torn visited his friend Father Claude it was he who taught the boy to read and write in French, English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could sign their own names French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher classes of society and all public documents were inscribed either in French or Latin although about this time the first proclamation written in the English tongue was issued by an English king to his subjects Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others to espouse the cause of the poor and weak to revere God and to believe for man's existence was to protect women all of virtue and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected to inculcate in the boy's mind the good priest planted there but he could not eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that the real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with a sword an occurrence which befell his earlier visits to his new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring the bear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the boys and his ability to back it up with acts the good father owed a great deal possibly his life as they receded in the priest's hut one afternoon a rough knock fell upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as disreputable a band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man six of them were clothed in dirty leather and wearing swords and daggers at their sides the leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair and a red bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard behind him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache while the third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and forehead and from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye for that socket was empty and the sunken eyelid but partially covered the inflamed red of the hallow where his eye had been ah ha, Mahardi's roared the leader turning to his motley crew fine pickings here indeed the swine of God fattened upon the sweat of such poor honest devils as we and a young chote who, by his looks must have pieces of gold in his belt say your prayers, my pigeons he continued with a vile oath for the black wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a halter later and dead men talk the least it be the black wolf whispered father clawed to the boy no worse fate could be fallous for he prays ever upon the clergy and when drunk, as he is now he murders his victims I will throw myself before them while you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse and make good your escape he spoke in French and held his hands in the attitude of prayer so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians who had no idea that he was communicating with the boy Norman of Torn could scarce repress his smile at this clever ruse of the old priest and assuming a similar attitude he replied in French the good father clawed does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he runs out the back door like an old woman because his sword looks in at the front door then rising he addressed the ruffians I do not know what matter of grievance you hold against my good friend here nor neither do I care it is sufficient that he is the friend of Norman of Torn and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledge the debt of friendship have at you sir knights of the great filth and the mighty stink and withdrawn sword he vaulted over the table and fell upon the surprised leader in the little room but two could engage him at once but so fiercely did his blade swing and so surely he did thrust that in a bare moment the black wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy was badly though not fatally wounded the four remaining ruffians backed quickly from the hut and a more cautious fighter would have let them go their way in peace for in the open four against one are odds no man may pit himself against with impunity but Norman of Torn saw red when he fought and the red lured him ever into the thickest of the fray only once before had he fought to the death but that once had taught him the love of it and even after until his death it marked his manner of fighting so that men who loathed and hated and feared him were as one with those who loved him in acknowledging that never before had God joined in the human frame absolute supremacy with a sword and such utter fearlessness so it was now that instead of being satisfied with his victory he rushed out after the four naves once in the open they turned upon him but he sprang into their midst with his seething blade and it was though they faced four men rather than one so quickly did he parry a thrust here and return a cut there in a moment one was disarmed and the other down and the remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the high road with Norman of Torn close at their heels young, agile and perfect in health he outclassed them in running as well as in swordmanship and ere they had made fifty paces both had thrown away their swords and were on their knees pleading for their lives come back to the good priest's hut and we shall see what he may say to Norman of Torn on the way back they found the man who had been disarmed bending over his wounded comrade they were brothers named Flory and one would not desert the other it was evident that the wounded man was in no danger so Norman of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut where they found Red Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the good father poured the contents of the wagon down his eager throat the villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four comrades coming unarmed in prisoners back to the little room the black wolf dead Red Shandy and John Flory wounded James Flory one eyed Canty and Peter the hermit prisoners he ejaculated man or devil by the pope's hind leg who and what be ya he said turning to Norman of Torn I be your master and ye be my men said Norman of Torn me ye shall serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves but with fighting a plenty and good reward the sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to pray upon the clergy had given rise to an idea in the boy's mind which had been revolving in a nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his subconsciousness since his vanquishing of the three knights had brought him so easily such riches in the form of horse's arms, armor and gold as was always his want in his afterlife to think was to act with the black wolf dead and may the devil pull out his eyes with red hot tongs we might look farther and fair worst mates in search of a chief spoke red shandy eye in his fellows for verily any man be he but a stripling who can vanquish six such as we be fit to command us but what be the duties said he whom they called Peter the hermit to follow Norman of Torn where he may lead to protect the poor and the weak to lay down your lives in defense of women and to pray upon rich Englishmen to harass the king of England the last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the Ruffians so strongly that they would have subscribed to anything even daily mass and a bath had that been necessary to admit them to the service of Norman of Torn I I they cried we be your men indeed wait said Norman of Torn there is more you are to obey my every command on pain of instant death in one half of all your gains are to be mine on my side I will clothe and feed you furnish you with mounts and armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under and fight for and with you with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector are you satisfied that we are and long live Norman of Torn and here's to the chief of the Torns signified the ready ascent early cutthroats and swear as he kissed the hilt of my sword and this token pursued Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest's table with these formalities was born the clan Torn which grew in a few years to number a thousand men and which defied a king's army and helped to make Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England almost immediately commenced that a series of outlaw acts upon neighboring barons and chanced members of the gentry who happened to be caught in the open by the outlaws that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn with many pieces of gold and silver and placed a price upon his head ere he had scarce turned 18 that he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts he grimly evidenced a point upon the foreheads of those who fell before his own sword the initials NT as his following and wealth increased he rebuilt and enlarged the grim castle of Torn and again damned the little stream which had furnished the moat with water in bygone days through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed his activities his very name was worshipped and oppressed the money he took from the king's tax gatherers he returned to the miserable peasants of the district and once when Henry III sent a little expedition against him he surrounded and captured the entire force and stripping them gave their clothing to the poor and escorted them naked back to the very gates of London by the time he was twenty Norman the devil as the king himself was known by reputation throughout all England though no man had seen his face and lived other than his friends and followers he had become a power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel between King Henry and his foreign favorites on one side and the Saxon and Norman Barons on the other neither side knew which way his power might be turned for Norman of Torn had prayed upon royalists and insurgent personally he had decided to join at neither party but to take advantage of the turmoil of the times to pray without partiality upon both as Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy ragged cutthroats on the day of his first meeting with them the old man of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small towers of the Barbican halting beneath this outer gate the youth winded the horn which hung at his side in mimicry of the custom of the times what whole without there challenged the old man entering grimly into the spirit of the play Tiz Sir Norman of Torn spoke up red shandy with his great host of noble knights and men at arms and squires and lackeys and sumptor beasts open in the name of the good great arm of Sir Norman of Torn what means this my son said the old man has Norman of Torn dismounted within the ballium the youth narrated the events of the morning concluding with these then be my men father and together we shall fare forth upon the highways and into the byways of England to collect from the rich English pigs that living which you have ever taught me was owing this Tiz well my son and even as I myself would have it together we shall ride out and where we ride a trail of blood shall mark our way from now henceforth the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow in the land until even the king shall tremble when he hears it and shall hate and loathe as I have ever taught ye to hate and loathe him the blood of Saxon and Norman shall never dry upon your blade as the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after this outbreak Shandy turning to Norman of Torn with a wide grin said by the Pope's hind leg but thy amiable father loveth the English there should be great riding after such as he you ride after me Varlet cried Norman of Torn at least ye should forget again so soon who be thy master take that as a reminder and he struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist so that the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth he was on his feet in an instant spitting blood and in a towering rage as he rushed bull-like toward Norman of Torn the latter made no move to draw he but stood with folded arms eyeing Shandy with cold level gaze his head held high haughty face marked by an arrogant sneer of contempt the great Ruffian paused then stopped slowly a sheepish smile overspread his countenance and going upon one knee he took the hand of Norman of Torn and kissed it as some great and loyal noble knight might have kissed his king's hand in proof of his love and fealty there was a certain rude though chivalrous grandeur in the act and it marked not only the beginning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of Shandy toward his young master but was prophetic of the attitude which Norman of Torn was to inspire in all the men who served him during the long years that saw thousands pass the barbecans of Torn to carve a position beneath his grim banner as Shandy rose one by one John Flory James his brother One-eyed Canty and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed his hand from the great court beyond a little grim gray old man had watched this scene a slight smile upon his old malicious face tis to transcend even my dearest dreams he murmured would he be more a king than Henry himself God speed the day of his coronation when before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound a black cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown beneath his feet the platform of a wooden giblet for a throne