The noise of the tumult in the square of the convent aroused the whole

town of Worcester. Alarm bells were rung; and the burgesses, hastily

arming themselves, poured into the streets. Directed by the sound, they

made their way to the square, and were astonished at finding it entirely

deserted, save for some twenty men, lying dead or dying in front of the

gate of the convent, pierced with long arrows. They speedily found that

Sir Rudolph and his troop had departed; and further inquiry revealed the

fact that the burgher guard at one of the gates had been overpowered and

were prisoners in the watchroom. These could only say that they were

suddenly seized, all being asleep save the one absolutely on guard. They

knew nothing more than that a few minutes later there was a great clatter

of horsemen and men on foot leaving the city. Unable to find any solution

to this singular circumstance, but satisfied that Sir Rudolph had

departed, and that no more disturbance was likely to arise that night,

the burgesses again betook themselves to their beds, having closed the

gates and placed a strong guard over them, determining next morning to

sift the affair to the bottom.

In the morning the leading burgesses met in council, and finding none who

could give them any information, the mayor and two of the councillors

repaired to the convent, where they asked for an interview with the lady

abbess. Mightily indignant were they at hearing that Sir Rudolph had

attempted to break into the convent, and to carry off a boarder residing

there. But the abbess herself could give them no further news. She said

that after she retired from the window, she heard great shouts and cries,

and that almost immediately afterwards the whole of the party in front

hastily retired.

That Sir Rudolph had been attacked by a party of archers was evident; but

whence they had shot, or how they had come upon the spot at the time, or

whither they had gone, were mysteries that could not be solved. In the

search which the authorities made, however, it was discovered that the

house of the draper, Master Nicholas, was closed. Finding that summonses

to open were unanswered, the door was broken in, and the premises were

found in confusion. No goods of any kind were discovered there, but many

bales filled with dried leaves, bark of trees, and other worthless

matters. Such goods as had been displayed in the window had clearly been

carried away. Searching the house, they found signs that a considerable

number of men had been concealed there, and although not knowing whence

the body of archers could have come, they concluded that those who

defeated the attempt of Sir Rudolph must have been hidden in the draper's

house. The singularity of this incident gave rise to great excitement;

but the indignation against Sir Rudolph was in no way lessened by the

fact that his attempt had been defeated, not by the townsmen themselves,

but by some unknown force.

After much consultation on the part of the council, it was resolved that

a deputation, consisting of the mayor and the five senior councillors,

should resort to London, and there demand from the prince redress for the

injury put upon their town by Sir Rudolph. These worthy merchants betook

themselves to London by easy stages, and upon their arrival there were

kept for some days before they could obtain an interview with King John.

When they appeared before him and commenced telling their story, the

prince fell into sudden rage.

"I have heard of this matter before," he said, "and am mightily angry

with the people of Worcester, inasmuch as they have dared to interfere to

prevent the carrying out of my commands. The Earl of Evesham has written

to me, that thinking to scare the abbess of St. Anne's into a compliance

with the commands which I had laid upon her, and to secure the delivery

of a contumacious ward of the crown, he had pretended to use force,

having, however, no idea of carrying his threats into effect. When, as he

doubted not, the abbess was on the point of yielding up the ward, the

good knight was suddenly set upon by the rascals of the town, who slew

some of his companions and followers, and did grievously ill-treat the

remainder. This," said the prince, "you now pretend was done by a party

of men of whose presence in the town you had no cognizance. Your good

sense must be small, if you think that I should believe such a tale as

this. It is your rascaldom at Worcester which interfered to prevent my

will being carried out, and I have a goodly mind to order the troop of

Sir Charles Everest, which is now marching towards Evesham, to sack the

town, as a punishment for its rebellion. As, however, I am willing to

believe that you and the better class of burgesses were in ignorance of

the doings of the rougher kind, I will extend mercy towards the city, and

will merely inflict a fine of 3000 golden marks upon it."

The mayor attempted humbly to explain and to entreat; but the prince was

seized with a sudden passion, and threatened if he said more he would at

once cast him and his fellows into durance. Therefore, sadly crestfallen

at the result of their mission, the mayor and councillors returned to

Worcester, where their report caused great consternation. This was

heightened by the fact that upon the following day Sir Charles Everest,

with 500 mercenaries of the prince, together with Sir Rudolph and his

following, and several other barons favourable to the cause of the

prince, were heard to be approaching the town.

Worcester was capable of making a stout defence, but seeing that no help

was likely to be forthcoming, and fearing the utter ruin of the town

should it be taken by storm, the council, after sitting many hours in

deliberation, determined to raise the money required to pay the fine

inflicted by the prince. The bolder sort were greatly averse to this

decision, especially as a letter had been received, signed "Cuthbert,

Earl of Evesham," offering, should the townspeople decide to resist the

unjust demands of Prince John, to enter the town with 150 archers to

take part in its defence. With this force, as the more ardent spirits

urged, the defeat of any attempt to carry it by storm would be assured.

But the graver men argued that even if defeated for the first time,

further attempts would be made, and as it was likely that King Richard

would not return for a long time, and that Prince John might become

Sovereign of England, sooner or later the town must be taken, and, in

any case, its trade would for a long time be destroyed, and great

suffering inflicted upon all; therefore, that it was better to pay the

fine now than to risk all these evils, and perhaps the infliction of a

heavier impost upon them.

The abbess was kept informed by friends in the council of the course of

the proceedings. She had in the meantime had another interview with Sir

Cuthbert, and had determined, seeing that Prince John openly supported

the doings of his minion, it would be better to remove the Lady Margaret

to some other place, as no one could say how the affair might terminate;

and with 500 mercenaries at his back, Sir Rudolph would be so completely

master of the city that he would be able in broad daylight, did he

choose, to force the gates of the convent and carry off the king's ward.

Accordingly, two days before the arrival of the force before the walls of

Worcester, Lady Margaret left the convent by a postern gate in the rear,

late in the evening. She was attended by two of the sisters, both of

whom, as well as herself, were dressed as countrywomen. Mules were in

readiness outside the city gates, and here Sir Cuthbert, with an escort

of archers, was ready to attend them. They travelled all night, and

arrived in the morning at a small convent situated five miles from the

city of Hereford. The abbess here was a cousin of the Superior of St.

Anne's, and had already consented to receive Lady Margaret. Leaving her

at the door, and promising that, as far as possible, he would keep watch

over her, and that even in the worst she need never despair, Sir Cuthbert

left her and returned to the forest.

The band there assembled varied considerably in numbers, for provisions

could not be found continually for a large body of men. The forest was

indeed very extensive, and the number of deer therein large. Still, for

the feeding of 150 men many animals are required and other food. The

franklins in the neighbourhood were all hostile to Sir Rudolph, whom they

regarded as a cruel tyrant, and did their utmost in the way of supplies

for those in the forest. Their resources, however, were limited, and it

was found necessary to scatter the force, and for a number of them to

take up their residence in places a short distance away, forty only

remaining permanently on guard.

Sir Rudolph and his friends entered Worcester, and there received with

great hauteur the apologies of the mayor and council, and the assurance

that the townspeople were in nowise concerned in the attack made upon

him. To this he pretended disbelief. The fine demanded was paid, the

principal portion in gold, the rest in bills signed by the leading

merchants of the place; for after every effort it had been found

impossible to collect such a sum within the city.

The day after he arrived, he again renewed his demand to the abbess for

the surrender of the Lady Margaret; this time, however, coming to her

attended only by two squires, and by a pursuivant bearing the king's

order for the delivery of the damsel. The abbess met him at the gate,

and informed him that the Lady Margaret was no longer in her charge.

"Finding," she said, in a fearless tone, "that the holy walls of this

convent were insufficient to restrain lawless men, and fearing that these

might be tempted to acts of sacrilege, which might bring down upon them

the wrath of the church and the destruction of their souls, I have sent

her away."

"Whither has she gone?" Sir Rudolph demanded, half mad with passion.

"That I decline to say," the lady abbess replied. "She is in good

hands; and when King Richard returns, his ward shall be delivered to

him at once."

"Will you take oath upon the Bible that she is not within these walls?"

Sir Rudolph exclaimed.

"My word is sufficient," the lady abbess replied calmly. "But should it

be necessary, I should be ready to swear upon the relics that she is

not here."

A few hours later Sir Rudolph, attended by his own party and by 100 of

Sir Charles Everest's mercenaries, returned to his castle.

Three days afterwards, as Cuthbert was sitting at a rude but hearty meal

in the forest, surrounded by Cnut and his followers, a hind entered

breathless. Cuthbert at once recognized him as one of the servitors of

his mother.

"What is it?" he exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"Terrible news, Master Cuthbert, terrible news!" exclaimed the man. "The

wicked earl came down this morning, with fifty of his men, set fire to

the house, and all its buildings and stacks, and has carried off the

lady, your mother, a prisoner to the castle, on a charge, as he said, of

harbouring traitors."

A cry of fury broke from Cnut and his men.

"The false traitor shall bitterly regret this outrage," Cuthbert

exclaimed.

He had in the first excitement seized his arms, and his followers

snatched up their bows, as if for instant warfare. A few moments'

reflection, however, showed to Cuthbert the impossibility of his

attacking a fortress like Evesham, garrisoned by a strong body of

well-armed men, with only the archers of the forest, without implements

necessary for such an assault.

"Send at once, Cnut," he said, "and call in all the band. We cannot take

the castle; but we will carry fire and sword round its walls. We will cut

off all communication from within or from without. If attacked by large

forces, we will retire upon the wood, returning to our posts without the

walls as soon as the force is withdrawn. These heavily armed men can move

but slowly; while we can run at full speed. There cannot be more than

some twenty horsemen in the castle; and methinks with our arrows and

pikes we can drive these back if they attempt to fall upon us."

Cnut at once sent off swift-footed messengers to carry out Cuthbert's

orders, and on the following day the whole of the band were again

assembled in the woods. Just as Cuthbert was setting them in motion, a

distant blast of a horn was heard.

"It is," Cuthbert exclaimed, "the note calling for a parley. Do you,

Cnut, go forward, and see what is demanded. It is probably a messenger

from Sir Rudolph."

After half-an-hour's absence, Cnut returned, bringing with him a

pursuivant or herald. The latter advanced at once towards Cuthbert, who,

now in his full knightly armour, was evidently the leader of the party.

"I bear to you, Sir Cuthbert, falsely calling yourself Earl of Evesham, a

message from Sir Rudolph. He bids me tell you that the traitress, Dame

Editha, your mother, is in his hands, and that she has been found guilty

of aiding and abetting you in your war against Prince John, the Regent of

this kingdom. For that offence she has been condemned to die."

Here he was interrupted by a cry of rage which broke from the assembled

foresters. Continuing unmoved, he said,--

"Sir Rudolph, being unwilling to take the life of a woman, however justly

forfeited by the law, commands me to say, that if you will deliver

yourself up to him by to-morrow at twelve, the Dame Editha shall be

allowed to go free. But that if by the time the dial points to noon you

have not delivered yourself up, he will hang her over the battlements of

the castle."

Cuthbert was very pale, and he waved his hand to restrain the fury which

animated the outlaws.

"This man," he said to them, "is a herald, and, as such, is protected by

all the laws of chivalry. Whatsoever his message, it is none of his. He

is merely the mouthpiece of him who sent him." Then, turning to the

herald, he said, "Tell the false knight, your master, on my part, that he

is a foul ruffian, perjured to all the vows of knighthood; that this act

of visiting upon a woman the enmity he bears her son, will bring upon him

the execration of all men; and that the offer which he makes me is as

foul and villainous as himself. Nevertheless, knowing his character, and

believing that he is capable of keeping his word, tell him that by

to-morrow at noon I will be there; that the lady, my mother, is to leave

the castle gates as I enter them; and that though by his foul device he

may encompass my death, yet that the curse of every good man will light

upon him, that he will be shunned as the dog he is, and that assuredly

heaven will not suffer that deeds so foul should bring with them the

prize he seeks to gain."

The herald bowed, and, escorted by two archers to the edge of the forest,

returned to Evesham Castle.

After his departure, an animated council took place. Cnut and the

outlaws, burning with indignation, were ready to attempt anything. They

would, had Cuthbert given the word, have attacked the castle that very

night. But Cuthbert pointed out the absolute impossibility of their

carrying so strong a place by such an assault, unprovided with engines

for battering down the gates. He said that surprise would be impossible,

as the knight would be sure to take every precaution against it; and that

in the event of such an attack being attempted, he would possibly carry

his threat into execution, and murder Dame Editha before their eyes. Cnut

was like a madman, so transported with fury was he; and the archers were

also beside themselves. Cuthbert alone retained his calmness. Retiring

apart from the others, he paced slowly backwards and forwards among the

trees, deliberating upon the best course to be pursued. The archers

gathered round the fire and passed the night in long and angry talk, each

man agreeing that in the event of their beloved leader being sacrificed

by Sir Rudolph, they would one and all give their lives to avenge him by

slaying the oppressor whensoever he ventured beyond the castle gates.

After a time, Cuthbert called Cnut to him, and the two talked long and

earnestly. Cnut returned to his comrades with a face less despairing than

that he had before worn, and sent off at once a messenger with all speed

to a franklin near the forest to borrow a stout rope some fifty feet in

length, and without telling his comrades what the plans of Sir Cuthbert

were, bade them cheer up, for that desperate as the position was, all

hope was not yet lost.

"Sir Cuthbert," he said, "has been in grievous straits before now, and

has gone through them. Sir Rudolph does not know the nature of the man

with whom he has to deal, and we may trick him yet."

At eleven o'clock the next day, from the walls of Evesham Castle a body

of archers 150 strong were seen advancing in solid array.

"Think you, Sir Rudolph," one of his friends, Sir Hubert of Gloucester,

said to him, "that these varlets think of attacking the castle?"

"They might as well think of scaling heaven," Sir Rudolph said. "Evesham

could resist a month's siege by a force well equipped for the purpose;

and were it not that good men are wanted for the king's service, and

that these villains shoot straight and hard, I would open the gates of

the castle and launch our force against them. We are two to one as

strong as they, and our knights and mounted men-at-arms could alone

scatter that rabble."

Conspicuous upon the battlements a gallows had been erected.

The archers stopped at a distance of a few hundred yards from the castle,

and Sir Cuthbert advanced alone to the edge of the moat.

"Sir Rudolph of Eresby, false knight and perjured gentleman," he shouted

in a loud voice, "I, Sir Cuthbert of Evesham, do denounce you as

foresworn and dishonoured, and do challenge you to meet me here before

the castle in sight of your men and mine, and decide our quarrel as

heaven may judge with sword and battle-axe."

Sir Rudolph leant over the battlements, and said,--

"It is too late, varlet. I condescended to challenge you before, and you

refused. You cannot now claim what you then feared to accept. The sun on

the dial approaches noon, and unless you surrender yourself before it

reaches the mark, I will keep my word, and the traitress, your mother,

shall swing from that beam."

Making a sign to two men-at-arms, these brought forward Dame Editha and

so placed her on the battlements that she could be seen from below. Dame

Editha was still a very fair woman, although nigh forty years had rolled

over her head. No sign of fear appeared upon her face, and in a firm

voice she cried to her son,--

"Cuthbert, I beg--nay, I order you to retire. If this unknightly lord

venture to carry out his foul threats against me, let him do so.

England will ring with the dastardly deed, and he will never dare show

his face again where Englishmen congregate. Let him do his worst. I am

prepared to die."

A murmur rose from the knights and men-at-arms standing round Sir

Rudolph.

Several of his companions had from the first, wild and reckless as they

were, protested against Sir Rudolph's course, and it was only upon his

solemn assurance that he intended but to frighten Sir Cuthbert into

surrender, and had no intention of carrying his threats against the lady

into effect, that they had consented to take part in the transaction.

Even now, at the fearless words of the Saxon lady several of them

hesitated, and Sir Hubert of Gloucester stepped forward to Sir Rudolph.

"Sir knight," he said, "you know that I am your true comrade and the

faithful servant of Prince John. Yet in faith would I not that my name

should be mixed up in so foul a deed. I repent me that I have for a

moment consented to it. But the shame shall not hang upon the escutcheon

of Hubert of Gloucester that he stood still when such foul means were

tried. I pray you, by our long friendship, and for the sake of your own

honour as a knight, to desist from this endeavour. If this lady be

guilty, as she well may be, of aiding her son in his assaults upon the

soldiers of Prince John, then let her be tried, and doubtless the court

will confiscate her estates. But let her son be told that her life is in

no danger, and that he is free to go, being assured that harm will not

come to her."

"And if I refuse to consent to allow my enemy, who is now almost within

my hand, to escape," Sir Rudolph said, "what then?"

"Then," said the knight, "I and my following will at once leave your

walls, and will clear ourselves to the brave young knight yonder of all

hand in this foul business."

A murmur of agreement from several of those standing round showed that

their sentiments were in accordance with those of Sir Hubert.

"I refuse," said Rudolph passionately. "Go, if you will. I am master of

my actions, and of this castle."

Without a word, Sir Hubert and two others of the knights present turned,

and briefly ordering their men-at-arms to follow them, descended the

staircase to the courtyard below. Their horses were brought out, the men

fell into rank, and the gates of the castle were thrown open.

"Stand to arms!" Sir Cuthbert shouted to the archers. "They are going to

attempt a sortie." And hastily he retired to the main body of his men.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FALSE AND PERJURED KNIGHT.

As the band of knights and their retainers issued from the gate, a

trumpeter blew a parley, and the three knights advanced alone towards the

group of archers.

"Sir Cuthbert de Lance," Sir Hubert said, "in the name of myself and my

two friends here we ask your pardon for having so far taken part in this

foul action. We did so believing only that Sir Rudolph intended the

capture of your lady mother as a threat. Now that we see he was in

earnest, we wash our hands of the business; and could we in any way atone

for our conduct in having joined him, we would gladly do so, consistently

only with our allegiance to the Prince Regent."

Cuthbert bowed courteously.

"Thanks for your words, Sir Hubert. I had always heard yourself and the

knights here spoken of as brave and gallant gentlemen, whose sole fault

was that they chose to take part with a rebel prince, rather than with

the King of England. I rejoice that you have cleared your name of so foul

a blot as this would have placed upon it, and I acknowledge that your

conduct now is knightly and courteous. But I can no more parley. The sun

is within a few minutes of twelve, and I must surrender, to meet such

fate as may befall me."

So saying, with a bow he left them, and again advanced to the

castle gate.

"Sir Rudolph," he shouted, "the hour is at hand. I call upon you to

deliver, outside the gate, the lady, my mother. Whether she wills it or

not, I call upon you to place her beyond the gate, and I give you my

knightly word that as she leaves it I enter it."

Dame Editha would then have attempted resistance; but she saw that it

would be useless. With a pale face she descended the steps, accompanied

by the men-at-arms. She knew that any entreaty to Sir Rudolph would be

vain, and with the courage of her race she mentally vowed to devote the

rest of her life to vengeance for her son.

As the gate opened and she was thrust forth, for a moment she found

herself in the arms of her son.

"Courage, mother!" he whispered; "all may yet be well."

Cnut was waiting a few paces behind, and offering his hand to Dame

Editha, he led her to the group of archers, while Cuthbert, alone,

crossed the drawbridge, and entered the portal, the heavy portcullis

falling after him.

Cnut immediately ordering four of his men to escort Dame Editha to the

wood with all speed, advanced with his men towards the walls. All had

strung their bows and placed their arrows on the ground in front of them

in readiness for instant use. Cnut himself, with two others carrying the

rope, advanced to the edge of the moat. None observed their doings, for

all within the castle were intent upon the proceedings there.

In the courtyard Sir Rudolph had taken his post, with the captain of the

mercenaries beside him, and the men-at-arms drawn up in order. He smiled

sardonically as Cuthbert entered.

"So, at last," he said, "this farce is drawing to an end. You are in my

power, and for the means which I have taken to capture you, I will

account to the prince. You are a traitor to him; you have attacked and

slaughtered many of my friends; you are an outlaw defying the law; and

for each of these offences your head is forfeited."

"I deny," Cuthbert said, standing before him, "your right to be my

judge. By my peers only can I be tried. As a knight of England and as

rightful lord of this castle, I demand to be brought before a jury of

my equals."

"I care nothing for rights or for juries," said Sir Rudolph. "I have the

royal order for your execution, and that order I shall put into effect,

although all the knights and barons in England objected."

Cuthbert looked round to observe the exact position in which he was

standing. He knew, of course, every foot of the castle, and saw that but

a short distance behind a single row of armed men was the staircase

leading to the battlements.

"False and perjured knight," he said, taking a step forward, "I may die;

but I would rather a thousand deaths than such a life as yours will be

when this deed is known in England. But I am not yet dead. For myself, I

could pardon you; but for the outrage to my mother--" and with a sudden

movement he struck Sir Rudolph in the face with all his strength, with

his mailed hand.

With the blood gushing from his nostrils, the knight fell backwards, and

Sir Cuthbert, with a bound, before the assembly could recover from their

astonishment at the deed, burst through the line of men-at-arms, and

sprang up the narrow staircase. A score of men-at-arms started in

pursuit; but Sir Cuthbert gained the battlements first, and without a

moment's hesitation sprang upon them and plunged forward, falling into

the moat fifty feet below. Here he would have perished miserably, for in

his heavy armour he was of course unable to swim a stroke, and his weight

took him at once into the mud of the moat. At its margin, however, Cnut

stood awaiting him, with one end of the rope in his hand. In an instant

he plunged in, and diving to the bottom, grasped Cuthbert by the body,

and twisted the rope round him. The two archers on the bank at once

hauled upon it, and in a minute Sir Cuthbert was dragged to the bank.

By this time a crowd of men-at-arms appeared upon the battlements. But as

they did so the archers opened a storm of arrows upon them, and quickly

compelled them to find shelter. Carried by Cnut and the men with him--for

he was insensible--Sir Cuthbert was quickly conveyed to the centre of the

outlaws, and these at once in a compact body began their retreat to the

wood. Cuthbert quickly recovered consciousness, and was soon able to

walk. As he did so, the gates of the castle were thrown open, and a crowd

of men-at-arms, consisting of the retainers of the castle and the

mercenaries of Prince John, sallied forth. So soon as Cuthbert was able

to move, the archers started at a brisk run, several of them carrying

Cuthbert's casque and sword, and others assisting him to hurry along. The

rear ranks turned as they ran and discharged flights of arrows at the

enemy, who, more heavily armed and weighted, gained but slowly upon them.

Had not Sir Rudolph been stunned by the blow dealt him by Cuthbert, he

would himself have headed the pursuit, and in that case the foresters

would have had to fight hard to make their retreat to their fastness. The

officer in command of the mercenaries, however, had no great stomach for

the matter. Men were hard to get, and Prince John would not have been

pleased to hear that a number of the men whom he had brought with such

expense from foreign parts had been killed in a petty fray. Therefore

after following for a short time he called them off, and the archers fell

back into the forest.

Here they found Dame Editha, and for three days she abode among them,

living in a small hut in the centre of the forest. Then she left, to take

up her abode, until the troubles were past, with some kin who lived in

the south of Gloucestershire.

Although the lady abbess had assured Cuthbert that the retreat of Lady

Margaret was not likely to be found out, he himself, knowing how great a

stake Sir Rudolph had in the matter, was still far from being easy. It

would not be difficult for the latter to learn through his agents that

the lady superior of the little convent near Hereford was of kin to her

of St. Anne's, and, close as a convent is, yet the gossiping of the

servants who go to market was certain to let out an affair so important

as the arrival of a young lady to reside under the charge of the

superior. Cuthbert was not mistaken as to the acuteness of his enemy. The

relationship between the two lady superiors was no secret, and after

having searched all the farmhouses and granges near the forest, and being

convinced that the lady abbess would have sent her charge rather to a

religious house than to that of a franklin, Sir Rudolph sought which of

those within the circuit of a few miles would be likely to be the one

selected. It was not long before he was enabled to fix upon that near

Hereford, and spies going to the spot soon found out from the

countrypeople that it was a matter of talk that a young lady of rank had

been admitted by the superior. Sir Rudolph hesitated whether to go

himself at the head of a strong body of men and openly to take her, or to

employ some sort of device. It was not that he himself feared the

anathema of the church; but he knew Prince John to be weak and

vacillating, at one time ready to defy the thunder of the pope, the next

cringing before the spiritual authority. He therefore determined to

employ some of his men to burst into the convent and carry off the

heiress, arranging that he himself, with some of his men-at-arms, should

come upon them in the road, and make a feigned rescue of her, so that, if

the lady superior laid her complaint before the pope's legate, he could

deny that he had any hand in the matter, and could even take credit for

having rescued her from the men who had profaned the convent. That his

story would be believed mattered but little. It would be impossible to

prove its falsity, and this was all that he cared for.

This course was followed out. Late one evening, the lady superior was

alarmed by a violent knocking at the door. In reply to questions asked

through the grill, the answer was given, "We are men of the forest, and

we are come to carry the Lady Margaret of Evesham off to a secure

hiding-place. The lord of Evesham has discovered her whereabouts, and

will be here shortly, and we would fain remove her before he arrives."

"From whom have you warrant?" the lady superior said. "I surrender her to

no one, save to the lady abbess of St. Anne's. But if you have a written

warrant from Sir Cuthbert, the rightful lord of Evesham, I will lay the

matter before the Lady Margaret, and will act as it may seem fit to her."

"We have no time for parleying," a rough voice said. "Throw open the gate

at once, or we will break it down."

"Ye be no outlaws," the lady superior said, "for the outlaws are men who

fear God and respect the church. Were ye what ye say, ye would be

provided with the warrants that I mention. I warn you, therefore, that if

you use force, you will be excommunicated, and placed under the ban of

the church."

The only answer was a thundering assault upon the gate, which soon

yielded to the blows. The sisters and novices ran shrieking through the

corridors at this rude uproar. The lady superior, however, stood calmly

awaiting the giving way of the gate.

"Where is the Lady Margaret?" the leader of the party, who were dressed

in rough garb, and had the seeming of a band of outlaws, demanded.

"I will say nothing," she said, "nor do I own that she is here."

"We will soon take means to find out," the man exclaimed. "Unless in five

minutes she is delivered to us, we will burn your place to the ground."

The lady abbess was insensible to the threat; but the men rushing in,

seized some sisters, who, terrified out of their wits by this irruption,

at once gave the information demanded, and the men made their way to the

cell where the Lady Margaret slept.

The girl had at once risen when the tumult commenced, doubting not in her

mind that this was another attempt upon the part of her enemy to carry

her off. When, therefore, she heard heavy footsteps approaching along the

gallery--having already hastily attired herself--she opened the door and

presented herself.

"If you seek the Lady Margaret of Evesham," she said calmly, "I am she.

Do not harm any of the sisters here. I am in your power, and will go with

you at once. But I beseech you add not to your other sins that of

violence against holy women."

The men, abashed by the calm dignity of this young girl, abstained from

laying hands upon her, but merely motioned to her to accompany them. Upon

their way they met the man who appeared to be their leader, and he, well

pleased that the affair was over, led the way to the courtyard.

"Farewell, my child," the abbess exclaimed. "God will deliver you from

the power of these wicked men. Trust in Him, and keep up your courage.

Wickedness will not be permitted to triumph upon the earth; and be

assured that the matter shall be brought to the ears of the pope's

legate, and of Prince John himself."

She could say no more, for the men closing round the weeping girl,

hurried her out from the convent. A litter awaited them without, and in

this the young lady was placed, and, borne upon the shoulders of four

stout men, she started at a fast pace, surrounded closely by the rest

of the band.

It was a dark night, and the girl could not see the direction in which

she was being taken; but she judged from the turn taken upon leaving the

convent, that it was towards Evesham. They had proceeded some miles, when

a trampling of horses was heard, and a body of armed men rode up. For a

moment Lady Margaret's heart gave a leap, for she thought that she had

been rescued by her friends. There was a loud and angry altercation, a

clashing of swords, and a sound of shouting and cries outside the litter.

Then it was placed roughly on the ground, and she heard the sound of the

footsteps of her first captors hurrying away. Then the horsemen closed

round the litter, and the leader dismounted.

"I am happy indeed, Lady Margaret," he said approaching the litter, "to

have been able to save you from the power of these villains. Fortunately,

word came to me that the outlaws in the forest were about to carry you

off, and that they would not hesitate even to desecrate the walls of the

convent. Assembling my men-at-arms, I at once rode to your rescue, and am

doubly happy to have saved you, first, as a gentleman, secondly, as being

the man to whom our gracious prince has assigned you as a wife. I am Sir

Rudolph, Earl of Evesham."

As from the first the girl had been convinced that she had fallen into

the power of her lawless suitor, this came upon her as no surprise.

"Whether your story is true, Sir Rudolph," she said, "or not, God knows,

and I, a poor weak girl, will not pretend to venture to say. It is

between you and your conscience. If, as you say, you have saved me from

the power of the outlaws, I demand that, as a knight and a gentleman, you

return with me at once to the convent from which I was taken by force."

"I cannot do that," Sir Rudolph said. "Fortune has placed you in my

hands, and has enabled me to carry out the commands of the prince.

Therefore, though I would fain yield to your wishes and so earn your

goodwill, which above all things I wish to obtain, yet my duty towards

the prince commands me to utilize the advantage which fate has thrown in

my hands."

"You must do as you will, Sir Rudolph," the girl said with dignity. "I

believe not your tale. You sought before, in person, to carry me off, but

failed, and you have now employed other means to do so. The tale of your

conduct to Dame Editha has reached my ears, and I hold you a foresworn

knight and a dishonoured man, and as such I would rather die than become

your wife, although as yet I am but a child, and have no need to talk of

weddings for years to come."

"We need not parley here," the knight said coldly. "We shall have plenty

of time when at my castle."

The litter was now lifted, placed between two horses, and proceeded

rapidly on its journey. Although the hope was but faint, yet until the

gates of the castle closed upon them the Lady Margaret still hoped that

rescue might reach her. But the secret had been too well kept, and it was

not until the following day that the man who had been placed in a cottage

near the convent arrived in all haste in the forest, to say that it was

only in the morning that he had learnt that the convent had been broken

open by men disguised as archers, and the Lady Margaret carried off.

Four days elapsed before Sir Rudolph presented himself before the girl

he had captured. So fearfully was his face bruised and disfigured by the

blow from the mailed hand of Cuthbert three weeks before, that he did not

wish to appear before her under such unfavourable circumstances, and the

captive passed the day gazing from her casement in one of the rooms in

the upper part of the keep, towards the forest whence she hoped rescue

would come.

Within the forest hot discussions were going on as to the best course

to pursue. An open attack was out of the question, especially as upon

the day following the arrival there of Lady Margaret, 300 more

mercenaries had marched in from Worcester, so that the garrison was now

raised to 500 men.

"Is there no way," Cnut exclaimed furiously, "by which we might creep

into this den, since we cannot burst into it openly?"

"There is a way from the castle," Cuthbert said, "for my dear lord told

me of it one day when we were riding together in the Holy Land. He said

then that it might be that he should never return, and that it were well

that I should know of the existence of this passage, which few beside the

earl himself knew of. It is approached by a very heavy slab of stone in

the great hall. This is bolted down, and as it stands under the great

table passes unnoticed, and appears part of the ordinary floor. He told

me the method in which, by touching a spring, the bolts were withdrawn

and the stone could be raised. Thence a passage a quarter of a mile long

leads to the little chapel standing in the hollow, and which, being

hidden among the trees, would be unobserved by any party besieging the

castle. This of course was contrived in order that the garrison, or any

messenger thereof, might make an exit in case of siege."

"But if we could escape," Cnut asked, "why not enter by this way?"

"The stone is of immense weight and strength," Cuthbert replied, "and

could not be loosed from below save with great labour and noise. There

are, moreover, several massive doors in the passage, all of which are

secured by heavy bolts within. It is therefore out of the question that

we could enter the castle by that way. But were we once in, we could

easily carry off the lady through this passage."

The large force which Sir Rudolph had collected was not intended merely

for the defence of the castle, for the knight considered that with his

own garrison he could hold it against a force tenfold that which his

rival could collect. But he was determined if possible to crush out the

outlaws of the forest, for he felt that so long as this formidable body

remained under an enterprising leader like Sir Cuthbert, he would never

be safe for a moment, and would be a prisoner in his own castle.

Cuthbert had foreseen that the attack was likely to be made and had

strengthened his band to the utmost. He felt, however, that against so

large a force of regularly armed men, although he might oppose a stout

resistance and kill many, yet that in the end he must be conquered. Cnut,

however, suggested to him a happy idea, which he eagerly grasped.

"It would be rare sport," Cnut said, "when this armed force comes out

to attack us, if we could turn the tables by slipping in, and taking

their castle."

"The very thing," Cuthbert exclaimed. "It is likely that he will use the

greater portion of his forces, and that he will not keep above fifty or

sixty men, at the outside, in the castle. When they sally out we will at

first oppose a stout resistance to them in the wood, gradually falling

back. Then, at a given signal, all save twenty men shall retire hastily,

and sweeping round, make for the castle. Their absence will not be

noticed, for in this thick wood it is difficult to tell whether twenty

men or two hundred are opposing you among the bushes; and the twenty who

remain must shoot thick and fast to make believe that their numbers are

great, retiring sometimes, and leading the enemy on into the heart of

the wood."

"But supposing, Sir Cuthbert, that they should have closed the gates and

lifted the drawbridge? We could not gain entrance by storming, even if

only twenty men held the walls, until long after the main body would have

returned."

Cuthbert thought for some time, and then said, "Cnut, you shall

undertake this enterprise. You shall fill a cart high with faggots, and

in it shall conceal a dozen of your best men. You, dressed as a serf,

shall drive the oxen, and when you reach the castle shall say, in answer

to the hail of the sentry, that you are bringing in the tribute of wood

of your master the franklin of Hopeburn. They will then lower the

drawbridge and open the gates; and when you have crossed the bridge and

are under the portcullis, spring out suddenly, cut loose the oxen so

that they will not draw the cart further in, cut the chains of the

drawbridge so that it cannot be drawn off, and hold the gate for a

minute or two until we arrive."

"The plan is capital," Cnut exclaimed. "We will do the proud Norman yet.

How he will storm when he finds us masters of his castle. What then will

you do, Sir Cuthbert?"

"We can hold the castle for weeks," Cuthbert said, "and every day is in

our favour. If we find ourselves forced to yield to superior numbers, we

can at last retire through the passage I have spoken of, and must then

scatter and each shift for himself until these bad days be past."

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SIEGE OF EVESHAM CASTLE.

Upon the day before starting out to head the expedition against the

outlaws, Sir Rudolph sent word to the Lady Margaret that she must prepare

to become his wife at the end of the week. He had provided two tiring

maids for her by ordering two of the franklins to send in their daughters

for that purpose, and these mingled their tears with Margaret's at the

situation in which they were placed. She replied firmly to the messenger

of the knight that no power on earth could oblige her to marry him. He

might drive her to the altar; but though he killed her there, her lips

should refuse to say the words which would unite them.

The following morning, early, the castle rang with the din of

preparation. The great portion of the mercenaries were encamped in tents

outside the walls, for, spacious as it was, Evesham could hardly contain

400 men in addition to its usual garrison. The men-at-arms were provided

with heavy axes to cut their way through the bushes. Some carried bundles

of straw, to fire the wood should it be found practicable to do so; and

as it was now summer and the wind was blowing high, Sir Rudolph hoped

that the dry grass and bushes would catch, and would do more even than

his men-at-arms in clearing the forest of those whom he designated the

villains infesting it. They had, too, with them several fierce dogs

trained to hunting the deer, and these, the knight hoped, would do good

service in tracking the outlaws. He and the knights and the men-at-arms

with him were all dismounted, for he felt that horses would in the

forest be an encumbrance, and he was determined himself to lead the way

to the men-at-arms.

When they reached the forest, they were saluted by a shower of arrows;

but as all were clad in mail, these at a distance effected but little

harm. As they came closer, however, the clothyard arrows began to pierce

the coarse and ill-made armour of the foot soldiers, although the finer

armour of the knight kept out the shafts which struck against it. Sir

Rudolph and his knights leading the way, they entered the forest, and

gradually pressed their invisible foe backwards through the trees. The

dogs did good service, going on ahead and attacking the archers; but, one

by one, they were soon shot, and the assailants left to their own

devices. Several attempts were made to fire the wood. But these failed,

the fire burning but a short time and then dying out of itself. In

addition to the fighting men, Sir Rudolph had impressed into the service

all the serfs of his domain, and these, armed with axes, were directed to

cut down the trees as the force proceeded, Sir Rudolph declaring that he

would not cease until he had levelled the whole forest, though it might

take him months to do so.

The assailants gained ground steadily, the resistance being less severe

than Sir Rudolph had anticipated. Several small huts and clearings in the

forest which had been used by the outlaws, and round which small crops

had been planted, were destroyed, and all seemed to promise well for the

success of the enterprise.

It was about two hours after they had left the castle, when a heavy cart

filled with faggots was seen approaching its gates. The garrison, who had

not the least fear of any attack, paid no attention to it until it

reached the edge of the moat. Then the warder, seeing that it contained

faggots, lowered the drawbridge without question, raised the portcullis,

and opened the gates.

"From whom do you bring this wood?" he asked, as the man driving the oxen

began to cross the bridge.

"From the franklin of Hopeburn."

"It is well," said the warder, "for he is in arrear now, and should have

sent in the firewood two months since. Take it to the wood-house at the

other end of the court."

The heavy-waggon crossed the drawbridge, but as it was entering the gate

it came suddenly to a stop. With a blow of his ox goad Cnut levelled the

warder to the ground, and cutting the cords of the bullocks, drove them

into the yard ahead. As he did so the pile of faggots fell asunder, and

twelve men armed with bow and pike leaped out. The men-at-arms standing

near, lounging in the courtyard, gave a shout of alarm, and the garrison,

surprised at this sudden cry, ran to their arms. At first they were

completely panic-stricken. But seeing after a time how small was the

number of their assailants, they took heart and advanced against them.

The passage was narrow, and the twelve men formed a wall across it. Six

of them with their pikes advanced, the other six with bent bows standing

behind them and delivering their arrows between their heads. The garrison

fought stoutly, and although losing many, were pressing the little band

backwards. In vain the assistant-warder tried to lower the portcullis, or

to close the gates. The former fell on to the top of the waggon, and was

there retained. The gates also were barred by the obstacle. The chains of

the drawbridge had at once been cut. Cnut encouraged his followers by his

shouts, and armed with a heavy axe, did good service upon the assailants.

But four of his party had fallen, and the rest were giving way, when a

shout was heard, and over the drawbridge poured Cuthbert and 150 of the

outlaws of the forest. Struck with terror at this attack, the garrison

drew back, and the foresters poured into the yard. For a few minutes

there was a fierce fight; but the defenders of the castle, disheartened

and taken by surprise, were either cut down or, throwing down their arms,

cried for quarter.

Ten minutes after the waggon had crossed the drawbridge, the castle was

safely in possession of Sir Cuthbert. The bridge was raised, the waggon

removed, the portcullis lowered, and to the external eye all remained

as before.

Cuthbert at once made his way to the chamber where the Lady Margaret was

confined, and her joy at her deliverance was great indeed. So unlimited

was her faith in Sir Cuthbert that she had never lost confidence; and

although it did not seem possible that in the face of such disparity of

numbers he could rescue her from the power of Sir Rudolph, yet she had

not given up hope. The joy of the farmers' daughters who had been

carried off to act as her attendants was little inferior to her own; for

once in the power of this reckless baron, the girls had small hopes of

ever being allowed to return again to their parents.

The flag of Sir Rudolph was thrown down from the keep, and that of the

late earl hoisted in its stead; for Cuthbert himself, although he had

assumed the cognizance which King Richard had granted him, had not yet

any flag or pennon emblazoned with it.

No words can portray the stupefaction and rage of Sir Rudolph when a man

who had managed to slip unobserved from the castle at the time of its

capture, bore the news to him in the forest. All opposition there had

ceased, and the whole of the troops were engaged in aiding the peasants

in cutting wide roads through the trees across the forest, so as to make

it penetrable by horsemen in every direction. It was supposed that the

outlaws had gradually stolen away through the thickets and taken to the

open country, intending to scatter to their homes, or other distant

hiding-places; and the news that they had by a ruse captured the castle,

came as a thunderclap.

Sir Rudolph's first impulse was to call his men together and to march

towards the castle. The drawbridge was up, and the walls bristled with

armed men. It was useless to attempt a parley; still more useless to

think of attacking the stronghold without the proper machines and

appliances. Foaming with rage, Sir Rudolph took possession of a cottage

near, camped his men around and prepared for a siege.

There were among the mercenaries many men accustomed to the use of

engines of war. Many, too, had aided in making them; and these were at

once set to work to construct the various machines in use at that time.

Before the invention of gunpowder, castles such as those of the English

barons were able to defy any attack by an armed force for a long period.

Their walls were so thick that even the balistas, casting huge stones,

were unable to breach them except after a very long time. The moats

which surrounded them were wide and deep, and any attempt at storming by

ladders was therefore extremely difficult; and these buildings were

consequently more often captured by famine than by other means. Of

provisions, as Sir Rudolph knew, there was a considerable supply at

present in the castle, for he had collected a large number of bullocks in

order to feed the strong body who had been added to the garrison. The

granaries, too, were well stored; and with a groan Sir Rudolph thought of

the rich stores of French wines which he had collected in his cellars.

After much deliberation with the knights with him and the captain of the

mercenaries, it was agreed in the first instance to attempt to attack the

place by filling up a portion of the moat and ascending by scaling

ladders. Huge screens of wood were made, and these were placed on

waggons; the waggons themselves were filled with bags of earth, and a

large number of men getting beneath them shoved the ponderous machines

forward to the edge of the moat. The bags of stones and earth were then

thrown in, and the waggons pushed backwards to obtain a fresh supply.

This operation was of course an exceedingly slow one, a whole day being

occupied with each trip of the waggons. They were not unmolested in their

advance, for, from the walls, mangonels and other machines hurled great

stones down upon the wooden screens, succeeding sometimes, in spite of

their thickness, in crashing through them, killing many of the men

beneath. The experiment was also tried of throwing balls of Greek fire

down upon the wood; but as this was green and freshly felled it would not

take fire, but the flames dropping through, with much boiling pitch and

other materials, did grievously burn and scald the soldiers working below

it. Upon both sides every device was tried. The cross-bow men among the

mercenaries kept up a fire upon the walls to hinder the defenders from

interfering with the operations, while the archers above shot steadily,

and killed many of those who ventured within range of their bows.

After ten days' labour, a portion of the moat some twenty yards in

length was filled with bags of earth, and all was ready for the assault.

The besiegers had prepared great numbers of strong ladders, and these

were brought up under shelter of the screens. Then, all being ready, the

trumpets sounded for the assault, and the troops moved forward in a close

body, covering themselves with their shields so that no man's head or

body was visible, each protecting the one before him with his shield held

over him. Thus the body presented the appearance of a great scale-covered

animal. In many respects, indeed, the warfare of those days was changed

in no way from that of the time of the Romans. In the 1200 years which

had elapsed between the siege of Jerusalem and the days of the crusades

there had been but little change in arms or armour, and the operations

which Titus undertook for the reduction of the Jewish stronghold differed

but little from those which a Norman baron employed in besieging his

neighbour's castle.

Within Evesham Castle all was contentment and merriment during these

days. The garrison had no fear whatever of being unable to repel the

assault when it should be delivered. Huge stones had been collected in

numbers on the walls, cauldrons of pitch, beneath which fires kept

simmering, stood there in readiness. Long poles with hooks with which to

seize the ladders and cut them down were laid there; and all that

precaution and science could do was prepared.

Cuthbert passed much of the day, when not required upon the walls,

chatting with the Lady Margaret, who, attended by her maidens, sat

working in her bower. She had learnt to read from the good nuns of the

convent--an accomplishment which was by no means general, even among the

daughters of nobles; but books were rare, and Evesham boasted but few

manuscripts. Here Margaret learnt in full all the details of Cuthbert's

adventures since leaving England, and the fondness with which as a child

she had regarded the lad grew gradually into the affection of a woman.

The courage of the garrison was high, for although they believed that

sooner or later the castle might be carried by the besiegers, they had

already been told by Cnut that there was a means of egress unknown to the

besiegers, and that when the time came they would be able to escape

unharmed. This, while it in no way detracted from their determination to

defend the castle to the last, yet rendered their task a far lighter and

more agreeable one than it would have been had they seen the gallows

standing before them as the end of the siege. As the testudo, as it was

called in those days, advanced towards the castle, the machines upon the

walls--catapults, mangonels, and arbalasts--poured forth showers of

stones and darts upon it, breaking up the array of shields and killing

many; and as these openings were made, the archers, seizing their time,

poured in volleys of arrows. The mercenaries, however, accustomed to war,

advanced steadily, and made good their footing beneath the castle wall,

and proceeded to rear their ladders. Here, although free from the action

of the machines, they were exposed to the hand missiles, which were

scarcely less destructive. In good order, and with firmness, however,

they reared the ladders, and mounted to the assault, covering themselves

as well as they could with their shields. In vain, however, did they

mount. The defenders poured down showers of boiling pitch and oil, which

penetrated the crevices of their armour, and caused intolerable torment.

Great stones were toppled over from the battlements upon them; and

sometimes the ladders, seized by the poles with hooks, were cast

backwards, with all upon them, on the throng below. For half-an-hour,

encouraged by the shouts of Sir Rudolph and their leaders, the soldiers

strove gallantly; but were at last compelled to draw off, having lost

nigh 100 men, without one gaining a footing upon the walls.

That evening another council of war was held without. Already some large

machines for which Sir Rudolph had sent had arrived. In anticipation of

the possibility of failure, two castles upon wheels had been prepared,

and between these a huge beam with an iron head was hung. This was upon

the following day pushed forward on the newly-formed ground across the

moat. Upon the upper part of each tower were armed men who worked

machines casting sheaves of arrows and other missiles. Below were those

who worked the ram. To each side of the beam were attached numerous

cords, and with these it was swung backwards and forwards, giving heavy

blows each stroke upon the wall. The machines for casting stones, which

had arrived, were also brought in play, and day and night these

thundered against the walls; while the ram repeated its ceaseless blows

upon the same spot, until the stone crumbled before it.

Very valiantly did the garrison oppose themselves to these efforts. But

each day showed the progress made by the besiegers. Their forces had been

increased, Prince John having ordered his captain at Gloucester to send

another 100 men to the assistance of Sir Rudolph. Other towers had now

been prepared. These were larger than the first, and overtopped the

castle walls. From the upper story were drawbridges, so formed as to drop

from the structures upon the walls, and thus enable the besiegers to rush

upon them. The process was facilitated by the fact that the battlements

had been shot away by the great stones, and there was a clear space on

which the drawbridges could fall. The attack was made with great vigour;

but for a long time the besieged maintained their post, and drove back

the assailants as they poured out across the drawbridges on to the wall.

At last Cuthbert saw that the forces opposed to him were too numerous to

be resisted, and gave orders to his men to fall back upon the inner keep.

Making one rush, and clearing the wall of those who had gained a footing,

the garrison fell back hastily, and were safely within the massive keep

before the enemy had mustered in sufficient numbers upon the wall to

interfere with them. The drawbridge was now lowered, and the whole of the

assailants gained footing within the castle. They were still far from

having achieved a victory. The walls of the keep were massive and strong,

and its top far higher than the walls, so that from above a storm of

arrows poured down upon all who ventured to show themselves. The keep had

no windows low enough down for access to be gained; and those on the

floors above were so narrow, and protected by bars, that it seemed by

scaling the walls alone could an entry be effected. This was far too

desperate an enterprise to be attempted, for the keep rose eighty feet

above the courtyard. It was upon the door, solid and studded with iron,

that the attempt had to be made.

Several efforts were made by Sir Rudolph, who fought with a bravery

worthy of a better cause, to assault and batter down the door. Protected

by wooden shields from the rain of missiles from above, he and his

knights hacked at the door with their battle-axes. But in vain. It had

been strengthened by beams behind, and by stones piled up against it.

Then fire was tried. Faggots were collected in the forest, and brought;

and a huge pile having been heaped against the door, it was lighted. "We

could doubtless prolong the siege for some days, Lady Margaret," said

Cuthbert, "but the castle is ours; and we wish not, when the time comes

that we shall again be masters of it, that it should be a mere heap of

ruins. Methinks we have done enough. With but small losses on our side,

we have killed great numbers of the enemy, and have held them at bay for

a month. Therefore, I think that tonight it will be well for us to leave

the place."

Lady Margaret was rejoiced at the news that the time for escape had come,

for the perpetual clash of war, the rattling of arrows, the ponderous

thud of heavy stones, caused a din very alarming to a young girl; and

although the room in which she sat, looking into the inner court of the

castle, was not exposed to missiles, she trembled at the thought that

brave men were being killed, and that at any moment a shot might strike

Cuthbert, and so leave her without a friend or protector.

Content with having destroyed the door, the assailants made no further

effort that evening, but prepared in the morning to attack it, pull

down the stones filled behind it, and force their way into the keep.

There was, with the exception of the main entrance, but one means of

exit, a small postern door behind the castle, and throughout the siege

a strong body of troops had been posted here, to prevent the garrison

making a sortie.

Feeling secure therefore that upon the following day his enemies would

fall into his power, Sir Rudolph retired to rest.

An hour before midnight the garrison assembled in the hall. The table was

removed, and Cuthbert having pressed the spring, which was at a distance

from the stone and could not be discovered without a knowledge of its

existence, the stone turned aside by means of a counterpoise, and a

flight of steps was seen. Torches had been prepared. Cnut and a chosen

band went first; Cuthbert followed, with Lady Margaret and her

attendants; and the rest of the archers brought up the rear, a trusty man

being left in charge at last with orders to swing back the stone into its

place, having first hauled the table over the spot, so that their means

of escape should be unknown.

The passage was long and dreary, the walls were damp with wet, and the

massive doors so swollen by moisture that it was with the greatest

difficulty they could be opened. At last, however, they emerged into the

little friary in the wood. It was deserted, the priest who usually dwelt

there having fled when the siege began. The stone which there, as in the

castle, concealed the exit, was carefully closed, and the party then

emerged into the open air. Here Cuthbert bade adieu to his comrades. Cnut

had very anxiously begged to be allowed to accompany him and share his

fortunes, and Cuthbert had promised him that if at any time he should

again take up arms in England, he would summon him to his side, but that

at present as he knew not whither his steps would be turned, it would be

better that he should be unattended. The archers had all agreed to

scatter far and wide through the country, many of them proceeding to

Nottingham and joining the bands in the forest of Sherwood.

Cuthbert himself had determined to make his way to the castle of his

friend, Sir Baldwin, and to leave the Lady Margaret in his charge. Cnut

hurried on at full speed to the house of a franklin, some three miles

distant. Here horses were obtained and saddled, and dresses prepared; and

when Cuthbert with Lady Margaret arrived there, no time was lost. Dressed

as a yeoman, with the Lady Margaret as his sister, he mounted a horse,

with her behind him on a pillion. The other damsels also mounted, as it

would not have been safe for them to remain near Evesham. They therefore

purposed taking refuge in a convent near Gloucester for the present.

Bidding a hearty adieu to Cnut, and with thanks to the franklin who had

aided them, they set forward on their journey. By morning they had

reached the convent, and here the two girls were left, and Cuthbert

continued his journey. He left his charge at a convent a day's ride

distant from the castle of Sir Baldwin, as he wished to consult the

knight first as to the best way of her entering the castle without

exciting talk or suspicion.

Sir Baldwin received him with joy. He had heard something of his doings,

and the news of the siege of Evesham had been noised abroad. He told him

that he was in communication with many other barons, and that ere long

they hoped to rise against the tyranny of Prince John, but that at

present they were powerless, as many, hoping that King Richard would

return ere long, shrank from involving the country in a civil war. When

Cuthbert told him that the daughter of his old friend was at a convent

but a day's ride distant, and that he sought protection for her, Sir

Baldwin instantly offered her hospitality.

"I will," he said, "send my good wife to fetch her. Some here know your

presence, and it would be better therefore that she did not arrive for

some days, as her coming will then seem to be unconnected with yourself.

My wife and I will, a week hence, give out that we are going to fetch a

cousin of my wife's to stay here with her; and when we return no

suspicion will be excited that she is other than she seems. Should it be

otherwise, I need not say that Sir Baldwin of B‚thune will defend his

castle against any of the minions of Prince John. But I have no fear that

her presence here will be discovered. What think you of doing in the

meantime?"

"I am thinking," Cuthbert said, "of going east. No news has been obtained

of our lord the king save that he is a prisoner in the hands of the

emperor; but where confined, or how, we know not. It is my intent to

travel to the Tyrol, and to trace his steps from the time that he was

captured. Then, when I obtain knowledge of the place where he is kept, I

will return, and consult upon the best steps to be taken. My presence in

England is now useless. Did the barons raise the standard of King Richard

against the prince, I should at once return and join them. But without

land or vassals, I can do nothing here, and shall be indeed like a hunted

hare, for I know that the false earl will move heaven and earth to

capture me."

Sir Baldwin approved of the resolution; but recommended Cuthbert to take

every precaution not to fall himself into the hands of the emperor;

"for," he said, "if we cannot discover the prison of King Richard, I fear

that it would be hopeless indeed ever to attempt to find that in which a

simple knight is confined."

CHAPTER XXV.

IN SEARCH OF THE KING.

The following day, with many thanks Cuthbert started from the castle, and

in the first place visited the convent, and told Lady Margaret that she

would be fetched in a few days by Sir Baldwin and his wife. He took a

tender adieu of her, not without many forebodings and tears upon her

part; but promising blithely that he would return and lead her back in

triumph to her castle, he bade adieu and rode for London.

He had attired himself as a merchant, and took up his abode at a hostelry

near Cheapside. Here he remained quietly for some days, and, mixing among

the people, learnt that in London as elsewhere the rapacity of Prince

John had rendered him hateful to the people, and that they would gladly

embrace any opportunity of freeing themselves from his yoke. He was

preparing to leave for France, when the news came to him that Prince John

had summoned all the barons faithful to him to meet him near London, and

had recalled all his mercenaries from different parts of the country, and

was gathering a large army; also, that the barons faithful to King

Richard, alarmed by the prospect, had raised the royal standard, and that

true men were hurrying to their support. This entirely destroyed the

plans that he had formed. Taking horse again, and avoiding the main road,

by which he might meet the hostile barons on their way to London, he

journeyed down to Nottingham. Thence riding boldly into the forest, he

sought the outlaws, and was not long ere he found them. At his request he

was at once taken before their leader, a man of great renown both for

courage and bowmanship, one Robin Hood. This bold outlaw had long held at

defiance the Sheriff of Nottingham, and had routed him and all bodies of

troops who had been sent against him. With him Cuthbert found many of his

own men; and upon hearing that the royal standard had been raised, Robin

Hood at once agreed to march with all his men to join the royal force.

Messengers were despatched to summon the rest of the forest band from

their hiding places, and a week later Cuthbert, accompanied by Robin Hood

and 300 archers, set out for the rendezvous. When they arrived there they

found that Sir Baldwin had already joined with his retainers, and was by

him most warmly received, and introduced to the other barons in the camp,

by whom Cuthbert was welcomed as a brother. The news that Prince John's

army was approaching was brought in, a fortnight after Cuthbert had

joined the camp, and the army in good order moved out to meet the enemy.

The forces were about equal. The battle began by a discharge of arrows;

but Robin Hood and his men shot so true and fast that they greatly

discomfited the enemy; and King John's mercenaries having but little

stomach for the fight, and knowing how unpopular they were in England,

and that if defeated small mercy was likely to be shown to them, refused

to advance against the ranks of the loyal barons, and falling back

declined to join in the fray. Seeing their numbers so weakened by this

defection, the barons on the prince's side hesitated, and surrounding the

prince advised him to make terms with the barons while there was yet

time. Prince John saw that the present was not a favourable time for him,

and concealing his fury under a mask of courtesy, he at once acceded to

the advice of his followers, and despatched a messenger to the barons

with an inquiry as to what they wanted of him. A council was held, and it

was determined to demand the dismissal of the mercenaries and their

despatch back to their own country; also that John would govern only as

his brother's representative; that the laws of the country should be

respected; that no taxes should be raised without the assent of the

barons; that all men who had taken up arms against his authority should

be held free; and that the barons on Prince John's side should return

peaceably home and disband their forces. Seeing, under the circumstances,

that there was no way before him but to yield to these demands, Prince

John accepted the terms. The mercenaries were ordered to march direct to

London, and orders were given that ships should be at once prepared to

take them across to Normandy, and the barons marched for their homes.

Satisfied, now that the mercenaries were gone, that they could

henceforth hold their ground against Prince John, the royal barons also

broke up their forces. Robin Hood with his foresters returned to

Sherwood; and Cuthbert, bidding adieu to Sir Baldwin, rode back to

London, determined to carry out the plan which he had formed. He was the

more strengthened in this resolution, inasmuch as in the royal camp he

had met a friend from whom he parted last in the Holy Land. This was

Blondel, the minstrel of King Richard, whose songs and joyous music had

often lightened the evening after days of fighting and toil in

Palestine. To him Cuthbert confided his intention, and the minstrel

instantly offered to accompany him.

"I shall," he said, "be of assistance to you. Minstrels are like heralds.

They are of no nationality, and can pass free where a man at arms would

be closely watched and hindered. Moreover, it may be that I might aid you

greatly in discovering the prison of the king. So great is the secrecy

with which this has been surrounded, that I question if any inquiries you

could make would enable you to trace him. My voice, however, can

penetrate into places where we cannot enter. I will take with me my lute,

and as we journey I will sing outside the walls of each prison we come to

one of the songs which I sang in Palestine. King Richard is himself a

singer and knows my songs as well as myself. If I sing a verse of some

song which I wrote there and which, therefore, would be known only to

him, if he hears it he may follow with the next verse, and so enable us

to know of his hiding place."

Cuthbert at once saw the advantages which such companionship would bring

him, and joyfully accepted the minstrel's offer, agreeing himself to go

as serving man to Blondel. The latter accompanied him to London. Here

their preparations were soon made, and taking ship in a merchantman bound

for the Netherlands, they started without delay upon their adventure.

The minstrels and troubadours were at that time a privileged race in

Europe, belonging generally to the south of France, although produced in

all lands. They travelled over Europe singing the lays which they

themselves had composed, and were treated with all honour at the

castles where they chose to alight. It would have been considered as

foul a deed to use discourtesy to a minstrel as to insult a herald. Their

persons were, indeed, regarded as sacred, and the knights and barons

strove to gain their good will by hospitality and presents, as a large

proportion of their ballads related to deeds of war; and while they

would write lays in honour of those who courteously entertained them,

they did not hesitate to heap obloquy upon those who received them

discourteously, holding them up to the gibes and scoffs of their

fellows. In no way, therefore, would success be so likely to attend the

mission of those who set out to discover the hiding place of King

Richard as under the guise of a minstrel and his attendant. No questions

would be asked them; they could halt where they would, in castle or

town, secure of hospitality and welcome. Blondel was himself a native of

the south of France, singing his songs in the soft language of

Languedoc. Cuthbert's Norman French would pass muster anywhere as being

that of a native of France; and although when dressed as a servitor

attention might be attracted by his bearing, his youth might render it

probable that he was of noble family, but that he had entered the

service of the minstrel in order to qualify himself some day for

following that career. He carried a long staff, a short sword, and at

his back the lute or small harp played upon by the troubadour. Blondel's

attire was rich, and suitable to a person of high rank.

They crossed to the Scheldt, and thence travelled by the right bank of

the Rhine as far as Mannheim, sometimes journeying by boat, sometimes on

foot. They were also hospitably entertained, and were considered to more

than repay their hosts by the songs which Blondel sang. At Mannheim they

purchased two horses, and then struck east for Vienna. The journey was

not without danger, for a large portion of this part of Europe was under

no settled government, each petty baron living in his own castle, and

holding but slight allegiance to any feudal lord, making war upon his

neighbour on his own account, levying blackmail from travellers, and

perpetually at variance with the burghers of the towns. The hills were

covered with immense forests, which stretched for many leagues in all

directions, and these were infested by wolves, bears, and robbers. The

latter, however, although men without pity or religion, yet held the

troubadours in high esteem, and the travellers without fear entered the

gloomy shades of the forest.

They had not gone far when their way was barred by a number of armed men.

"I am a minstrel," Blondel said, "and as such doubt not that your

courtesy will be extended to me."

"Of a surety," the leader said, "the gay science is as much loved and

respected in the greenwood as in the castle; and moreover, the purses of

those who follow it are too light to offer any temptation to us. We would

pray you, however, to accompany us to our leader, who will mightily

rejoice to see you, for he loves music, and will gladly be your host so

long as you will stay with him."

Blondel, without objection, turned his horse's head and accompanied the

men, followed by Cuthbert. After half an hour's travelling, they came to

a building which had formerly been a shrine, but which was now converted

to the robbers' headquarters. The robber chief on hearing from his

followers the news that a minstrel had arrived, came forward to meet him,

and courteously bade him welcome.

"I am Sir Adelbert, of Rotherheim," he said, "although you see me in so

poor a plight. My castle and lands have been taken by my neighbour, with

whom for generations my family have been at feud. I was in the Holy Land

with the emperor, and on my return found that the baron had taken the

opportunity of my absence, storming my castle and seizing my lands. In

vain I petitioned the emperor to dispossess this traitorous baron of my

lands, which by all the laws of Christendom should have been respected

during my absence. The emperor did indeed send a letter to the baron to

deliver them up to me; but his power here is but nominal, and the baron

contemptuously threw the royal proclamation into the fire, and told the

messenger that what he had taken by the sword he would hold the sword;

and the emperor, having weightier matters on hand than to set troops in

motion to redress the grievances of a simple knight, gave the matter no

further thought. I have therefore been driven to the forest, where I live

as best I may with my followers, most of whom were retainers upon my

estate, and some my comrades in the Holy Land. I make war upon the rich

and powerful, and beyond that do harm to no man. But, methinks," he

continued, "I know your face, gentle sir."

"It may well be so, Sir Adelbert," the minstrel said, "for I too was

in the Holy Land. I followed the train of King Richard, and mayhap at

some of the entertainments given by him you have seen my face. My name

is Blondel."

"I remember now," the knight said. "It was at Acre that I first saw you,

and if I remember rightly you can wield the sword as well as the lute."

"One cannot always be playing and singing," Blondel said, "and in lack of

amusement I was forced to do my best against the infidel, who indeed

would have but little respected my art had I fallen into his hands. The

followers of the prophet hold minstrels but in slight reverence."

"What is the news of King Richard?" the knight said. "I have heard that

he was lost on the voyage homewards."

"It is not so," Blondel said. "He landed safely on the coast, and was

journeying north with a view of joining his sister at the Court of

Saxony, when he was foully seized and imprisoned by the Archduke John."

"That were gross shame indeed," the knight said, "and black treachery on

the part of Duke John. And where is the noble king imprisoned?"

"That," said Blondel, "no man knows. On my journey hither I have gathered

that the emperor claimed him from the hand of the Archduke, and that he

is imprisoned in one of the royal fortresses; but which, I know not. And

indeed, sir knight, since you are well disposed towards him, I may tell

you that the purport of my journey is to discover if I can the place of

his confinement. He was a kind and noble master, and however long my

search may be, I will yet obtain news of him."

The knight warmly applauded the troubadour's resolution, and was turning

to lead him into his abode, when his eye fell upon Cuthbert.

"Methinks I know the face of your attendant as well as your own; though

where I can have seen him I know not. Was he with you in the Holy Land?"

"Yes," Blondel said, "the youth was also there; and doubtless you may

have noticed him, for he is indeed of distinguished and of good family."

"Then let him share our repast," the knight said, "if it seems good to

you. In these woods there is no rank, and I myself have long dropped my

knightly title, and shall not reassume it until I can pay off my score to

the Baron of Rotherheim, and take my place again in my castle."

The minstrel and Cuthbert were soon seated at the table with the knight

and one or two of his principal companions. A huge venison pasty formed

the staple of the repast, but hares and other small game were also upon

the table. Nor was the generous wine of the country wanting.

The knight had several times glanced at Cuthbert, and at last exclaimed,

"I have it now. This is no attendant, sir minstrel, but that valiant

young knight who so often rode near King Richard in battle. He is, as I

guess, your companion in this quest; is it not so?"

"It is," Cuthbert replied frankly. "I am like yourself, a disinherited

knight, and my history resembles yours. Upon my return to England I found

another in possession of the land and titles that belonged to the noble I

followed, and which King Richard bestowed upon me. The Earl of Evesham

was doubtless known to you, and before his death King Richard, at his

request, bestowed upon me as his adopted son--although but a distant

connexion--his title and lands and the hand of his daughter. Prince John,

who now rules in England, had however granted these things to one of his

favourites, and he having taken possession of the land and title, though

not, happily, of the lady, closed his door somewhat roughly in my face. I

found means, however, to make my mark upon him; but as our quarrel could

not be fought out to the end, and as the false knight had the aid of

Prince John, I am forced for a while to postpone our settlement, and

meeting my good friend the minstrel, agreed to join him in his enterprise

to discover our lord the king."

The knight warmly grasped Cuthbert's hand.

"I am glad," he said, "to meet so true and valiant a knight. I have often

wondered at the valour with which you, although so young, bore yourself;

and there were tales afloat of strange adventures which you had undergone

in captivity for a time among the infidels."

At Sir Adelbert's request, Cuthbert related the story of his adventures

among the Saracens; and then Blondel, tuning his lute, sang several

canzonets which he had composed in the Holy Land, of feats of arms and

adventure.

"How far are you," Cuthbert asked presently, when Blondel laid his lute

aside, "from the estates which were wrongfully wrested from you?"

"But twenty leagues," the knight said. "My castle was on the Rhine,

between Coblentz and Mannheim."

"Does the baron know that you are so near?" Cuthbert asked.

"Methinks that he does not," the knight replied, "but that he deems me to

have gone to the court of the emperor to seek for redress--which, he

guesses, I shall certainly fail to obtain."

"How many men have you with you?" Cuthbert asked.

"Fifty men, all good and true," the knight said.

"Has it never entered your thoughts to attempt a surprise upon his

castle?" Cuthbert said.

The knight was silent for a minute.

"At times," he said at length, "thoughts of so doing have occurred to

me; but the castle is strong, and a surprise would be difficult indeed."

"If the baron is lulled in security at present," Cuthbert said, "and

deems you afar off, the watch is likely to be relaxed, and with a sudden

onslaught you might surely obtain possession. Blondel and myself are not

pressed for time, and the delay of a few days can make but little

difference. If, therefore, you think we could be of assistance to you in

such an attempt, my sword, and I am sure that of my friend, would be at

your disposal."

The knight sat for some time in silence.

"Thanks, generous knight," he said at last, "I am sorely tempted to avail

myself of your offer; but I fear that the enterprise is hopeless. The

aid, however, of your arm and knowledge of war would greatly add to my

chances, and if it pleases you we will ride to-morrow to a point where we

can obtain a sight of the baron's castle. When you see it, you shall

judge yourself how far such an enterprise as you propose is possible."

"Is your own castle intact?" Cuthbert asked.

"The walls are standing," he said; "but a breach has been made in them,

and at present it is wholly deserted."

"Do you think," Cuthbert asked, "that if you succeeded in surprising and

defeating the garrison of the castle that you could then regain your own,

and hold it against your enemy?"

"I think that I could," Sir Adelbert said. "The baron's domains are but

little larger than my own. Many of my retainers still live upon the

estate, and would; I am sure, gladly join me, if I were to raise my flag.

The baron, too, is hated by his neighbours, and could I inflict a

crushing blow upon him, methinks it would be so long a time before he

could assemble a force, that I might regain my castle and put it in an

attitude of defence before he could take the field against me."

"If," Cuthbert said, "we could surprise the castle, it might well be that

the baron would fall into your hands, and in that case you might be able

to make your own terms with him. How strong a force is he likely to have

in his castle?"

"Some fifty or sixty men," the knight replied; "for with such a force he

could hold the castle against an attack of ten times their number, and he

could in twelve hours call in his retainers, and raise the garrison to

300 or 400 men."

Blondel warmly assented to Cuthbert's scheme, and it was settled that at

daybreak they should start to view the Castle of Rotherheim. At early

dawn they were in the saddle, and the three rode all day, until towards

sunset they stood on the crest of a hill looking down into the valley of

the Rhine.

The present aspect of that valley affords but a slight idea of its beauty

in those days. The slopes are now clad with vineyards, which, although

picturesque in idea, are really, to look at from a distance, no better

than so many turnip fields. The vines are planted in rows and trained to

short sticks, and as these rows follow the declivities of the hillside,

they are run in all directions, and the whole mountain side, from the

river far up, is cut up into little patches of green lines. In those days

the mountains were clad with forests, which descended nearly to the river

side. Here and there, upon craggy points, were situate the fortalices of

the barons. Little villages nestled in the woods, or stood by the river

bank, and a fairer scene could not be witnessed in Europe.

"That is Rotherheim," the knight said, pointing to a fortress standing on

a crag, which rose high above the woods around it; "and that," he said,

pointing to another some four miles away, similarly placed, "is my own."

Cuthbert examined closely the fortress of Rotherheim. It was a large

building, with towers at the angles, and seemed to rise almost abruptly

from the edge of the rock. Inside rose the gables and round turrets of

the dwelling-place of the baron; and the only access was by a steep

winding path on the river side.

"It is indeed a strong place," Cuthbert said, "and difficult to take by

surprise. A watch no doubt is always kept over the entrance, and there we

can hope for no success. The only plan will be to scale the wall by means

of a ladder; but how the ladder is to be got to so great a height, I own

at present passes my comprehension." After much thought, Cuthbert went

on, "It might, methinks, be practicable for an archer to approach the

walls, and to shoot an arrow over the angle of the castle so that it

would pass inside the turret there, and fall in the forest beyond. If to

this arrow were attached a light cord, it could be gained by one on the

other side, and a stronger cord hauled over. To this could be attached a

rope ladder, and so this could be raised to the top of the wall. If a

sentinel were anywhere near he might hear the rope pulled across the

battlements; but if as we may hope, a watch is kept only over the

entrance, the operation might be performed without attracting notice."

The knight was delighted with the project, which seemed perfectly

feasible, and it was agreed that the attempt should be made.

"It will need," Sir Adelbert said, "an archer with a strong arm indeed to

shoot an arrow with a cord attached to it, however light, over the corner

of the castle."

"Methinks," Cuthbert said, "that I can do that, for as a lad I was used

to the strong bows of my country. The first thing, however, will be to

obtain such a bow; but doubtless one can be purchased in one of the

towns, which, if not so strong as those to which I was accustomed, will

at any rate suffice for us."

The party bivouacked in the woods for the night, for the horses had

already done a very long journey, and needed rest before starting back

for the Black Forest. At daybreak, however, they started, and at

nightfall rejoined their band. These were delighted when they heard the

scheme that had been set on foot, and all avowed their eagerness to join

in the attempt to restore their lord to his rights.

Two days later they set out, having already procured from the nearest

town a strong bow, some arrows, a very light rope, and a stronger one

from a portion of which they manufactured a rope ladder capable of

reaching from the top of the wall to the rock below. The journey this

time occupied two days, as the men on foot were unable to march at the

pace at which the mounted party had traversed the ground. The evening

of the second day, however, saw them in sight of the castle. By

Cuthbert's advice, Sir Adelbert determined to give them twenty-four

hours of rest, in order that they might have their full strength for

undertaking the task before them. During the day, Cuthbert, guided by

the knight, made his way through the woods to the foot of the rocks on

which the castle stood. They were extremely steep, but could be mounted

by active men if unopposed from above. Cuthbert measured the height

with his eye from the top of the castle wall to the place which he

selected as most fitting from which to shoot the arrow, and announced

to the knight that he thought there would be no difficulty in

discharging an arrow over the angle.

At nightfall the whole party made their way silently through the woods.

Three men were sent round to the side of the castle opposite that from

which Cuthbert was to shoot. The length of light string was carefully

coiled on the ground, so as to unwind with the greatest facility, and so

offer as little resistance to the flight of the arrow as might be. Then,

all being in readiness, Cuthbert attached the end to an arrow, and

drawing the bow to its full compass, let fly the arrow. All held their

breath; but no sound followed the discharge. They were sure, therefore,

that the arrow had not struck the wall, but that it must have passed

clear over it. Half-an-hour elapsed before they felt that the cord was

pulled, and knew that the men upon the other side had succeeded in

finding the arrow and string attached. The stronger cord was now fastened

to that which the arrow had carried, and this gradually disappeared in

the darkness. A party now stole up the rock, and posted themselves at the

foot of the castle wall. They took with them the coil of rope-ladder and

the end of the rope. At length the rope tightened, and to the end they

attached the ladder. This again ascended until the end only remained upon

the ground, and they knew that it must have reached the top of the wall.

They now held fast, and knew that those on the other side, following the

instructions given them, would have fastened the rope to a tree upon the

opposite side. They were now joined by the rest of the party, and Sir

Adelbert leading the way, and followed by Cuthbert and Blondel, began

cautiously to ascend the rope ladder.

All this time no sound from the castle proclaimed that their intention

was suspected, or that any alarm had been given, and in silence they

gained the top of the wall. Here they remained quiet until the whole band

were gathered there, and then made their way along until they reached the

stairs leading to the courtyard. These they descended, and then, raising

his war cry, Sir Adelbert sprang upon the men who, round a fire, were

sitting by the gate. These were cut down before they could leap to their

feet, and the party then rushed at the entrance to the dwelling-house.

The retainers of the castle, aroused by the sudden din, rushed from their

sleeping places, but taken completely by surprise, were unable to offer

any resistance whatever to the strong force which had, as if by magic,

taken possession of the castle. The surprise was complete, and with

scarce a blow struck they found themselves in possession. The baron

himself was seized as he rose from his bed, and his rage at finding

himself in the power of his enemy was so great as for some time to render

him speechless. Sir Adelbert briefly dictated to him the conditions upon

which only he should desist from using his power to hang him over his own

gate. The baron was instantly to issue orders to all his own retainers

and tenantry to lend their aid to those of Sir Adelbert in putting the

castle of the latter into a state of defence and mending the breach which

existed. A sum of money, equal to the revenues of which he had possessed

himself, was to be paid at once, and the knight was to retain possession

of Rotherheim and of the baron's person until these conditions were all

faithfully carried out. The baron had no resource but to assent to these

terms, and upon the following day Cuthbert and Blondel departed upon

their way, overwhelmed with thanks by Sir Adelbert, and confident that he

would now be able to regain and hold the possession of his estate.

CHAPTER XXVI.

KING RICHARD'S RETURN TO ENGLAND.

Journeying onward, Blondel and his companion stopped at many castles, and

were everywhere hospitably entertained. Arriving at Vienna they lingered

for some time, hoping there to be able to obtain some information of the

whereabouts of King Richard. Blondel in his songs artfully introduced

allusions to the captive monarch and to the mourning of all Christendom

at the imprisonment of its champion. These allusions were always well

received, and he found that the great bulk of the nobles of the empire

were indignant and ashamed at the conduct of the emperor in imprisoning

his illustrious rival. The secret of his prison place, however, appeared

to have been so well kept that no information whatever was obtainable.

"We must carry out our original plan," he said at length, "and journey

into the Tyrol. In one of the fortresses there he is most likely to be

confined."

Leaving the capital they wandered up into the mountains for weeks,

visiting one castle after another. It was no easy matter in all cases to

get so near to these prisons as to give a hope that their voice might be

heard within, or an answer received without. More than once cross-bow

bolts were shot at them from the walls when they did not obey the

sentinel's challenge and move further away. Generally, however, it was in

the day time that they sang. Wandering carelessly up, they would sit down

within earshot of the castle, open their wallets, and take out

provisions from their store, and then, having eaten and drunk, Blondel

would produce his lute and sing, as if for his own pleasure. It needed,

however, four visits to each castle before they could be sure that the

captive was not there; for the song had to be sung on each side.

Sometimes they would cheat themselves with the thought that they heard an

answering voice; but it was not until the end of the fourth week, when

singing outside the castle of Diernstein, that a full rich voice, when

Blondel ceased, sang out the second stanza of the poem. With difficulty

Blondel and Cuthbert restrained themselves from an extravagant exhibition

of joy. They knew, however, that men on the prison wall were watching

them as they sat singing, and Blondel, with a final strain taken from a

ballad of a knight who, having discovered the hiding place of his

ladylove, prepared to free her from her oppressors, shouldered his lute,

and they started on their homeward journey.

There was no delay now. At times they sang indeed at castles; but only

when their store was exhausted, for upon these occasions Blondel would

be presented with a handsome goblet or other solid token of the owner's

approval, and the sale of this at the next city would take them far on

their way. They thought it better not to pass through France, as

Philip, they knew, was on the watch to prevent any news of King Richard

reaching England. They therefore again passed through Brabant, and so

by ship to England.

Hearing that Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, one of Richard's vicegerents, was

over in Normandy, and rightly deeming him the most earnest of his

adherents, they at once recrossed the sea, and found the warlike prelate

at Rouen. Greatly delighted was he at hearing that Richard's hiding-place

had been discovered. He at once sent across the news to England, and

ordered it to be published far and wide, and himself announced it to the

barons of Normandy. Then with a gorgeous retinue, including Cuthbert and

Blondel, he started for Vienna, and arriving there demanded an interview

with the emperor.

The news that it was now certain that Richard was imprisoned in a castle

of the emperor, had already spread through Europe, and the bishop had

been received everywhere with tokens of sympathy; and so great was the

feeling shown by the counts and barons of the empire, that the Emperor

Henry felt that he could no longer refuse to treat for the surrender of

his captive. Therefore he granted the interview which Longchamp

demanded. The English envoy was received by the emperor surrounded by his

nobles. The prelate advanced with great dignity.

"I come," he said, "in the name of the people of England to demand the

restoration of King Richard, most unjustly and unknightly detained a

prisoner in his passage through your dominions."

"King Richard was my foe," the emperor said, "open and secret, and I was

justified in detaining one who is alike my enemy and a scourge to Europe

as a prisoner, when fortune threw him in my hands. I am, however, willing

to put him to a ransom, and will upon the payment of 150,000 marks allow

him to go free."

"I deny your right to detain him or to put him to ransom," the bishop

said. "But as you have the power, so my denial is useless. England is

poor, impoverished with war and by the efforts which she made in the

service of our holy religion. Nevertheless, poor as she is, she will

raise the sum you demand. There is not an Englishman who will not furnish

all he can afford for the rescue of our king. But once again, in the

presence of your nobles, I denounce your conduct as base and unkingly."

The emperor could with difficulty restrain his passion; but the sight of

the sombre visages of his nobles showed that they shared in no slight

degree the feelings which the English envoy had so boldly announced.

"Before, however," the emperor said, "I surrender King Richard, he

must be tried by my peers of many and various crimes of which he is

accused. Should he be found guilty of these, no gold can purchase his

release. Should he, however, be acquitted, then as my word is given so

shall it be."

"Although," the prelate said, "I deny your right to try our king, and

believe that he himself will refuse to accept your jurisdiction, yet I

fear not the result if our lord be left in the hands of the nobles of

the empire and not in yours. I can trust their honour and courtesy."

And turning upon his heel, without another word he quitted the apartment.

An hour later the bishop and his following took horse and rode with all

speed to the north coast, and thence sailed for England. The news of the

amount of ransom filled the people with consternation; but preparations

were at once made for collecting the sum demanded. Queen Eleanor was

unceasing in her efforts to raise the money for the release of her

favourite son. The nobles contributed their jewels and silver; the people

gave contributions of goods, for money was so scarce in England that few

had the wherewithal to pay in coin. Prince John placed every obstacle in

the way of the collection; but the barons had since their successful

stand obtained the upper hand, and it was by intrigue only that he could

hinder the collection.

In the meantime, popular opinion throughout Europe was strong upon the

side of King Richard. The pope himself wrote to the emperor on his

behalf. The barons of the empire were indignant at the shame placed upon

their country; and the emperor, although he would fain have thrown

further delays in the way, was obliged at last to order the first step

to be taken.

A solemn diet was ordered to assemble at Worms. Here were collected all

the nobles of the empire, and before them King Richard was brought. It

was a grand assembly. Upon a raised throne on the dais sat the emperor

himself, and beside him and near him were the great feudatories of the

empire, and along the sides of the walls were ranged in long rows the

lesser barons. When the doors were opened and King Richard entered, the

whole assembly, save the emperor, rose in respect to the captive monarch.

Although pale from his long confinement, the proud air of Richard was in

no way abated, and the eyes that had flashed so fearlessly upon the

Saracens looked as sternly down the long lines of the barons of Germany.

Of splendid stature and physique, King Richard was unquestionably the

finest man of his time. He was handsome, with a frank face, but with a

fierce and passionate eye. He wore his moustache with a short beard and

closely-cut whisker. His short curly hair was cropped closely to his

head, upon which he wore a velvet cap with gold coronet, while a scarlet

robe lined with fur fell over his coat of mail, for the emperor had

deemed it imprudent to excite the feeling of the assembly in favour of

the prisoner by depriving him of the symbols of his rank.

King Richard strode to the place prepared for him, and then turning to

the assembly he said, in a voice which rang through the hall,--

"Counts and lords of the Empire of Germany, I, Richard, King of England,

do deny your right to try me. I am a king, and can only be tried by my

peers and by the pope, who is the head of Christendom. I might refuse to

plead, refuse to take any part in this assembly, and appeal to the pope,

who alone has power to punish kings. But I will waive my rights. I rely

upon the honour and probity of the barons of Germany. I have done no man

wrong, and would appear as fearlessly before an assembly of peasants as

before a gathering of barons. Such faults as I may have, and none are

without them, are not such as those with which I am charged. I have slain

many men in anger, but none by treachery. When Richard of England

strikes, he strikes in the light of day. He leaves poison and treachery

to his enemies, and I hurl back with indignation and scorn in the teeth

of him who makes them the charges brought against me."

So saying King Richard took his seat amidst a murmur of applause from the

crowded hall.

The trial then commenced. The accusations against Richard were of many

kinds. Chief among them was the murder of Conrad of Montferat; but there

were charges of having brought the crusade to naught by thwarting the

general plans, by his arrogance in refusing to be bound by the decision

of the other leaders, and by having made a peace contrary to the

interests of the crusaders. The list was a long one; but the evidence

adduced was pitiably weak. Beyond the breath of suspicion, no word of

real evidence connecting him with the murder of Conrad of Montferat was

adduced, and the other charges were supported by no better evidence. Many

of the German barons who had been at the crusades themselves came

forward to testify to the falsity of these charges, and the fact that

Richard had himself placed Conrad of Montferat upon the throne, and had

no possible interest in his death, was alone more than sufficient to

nullify the vague rumours brought against him. Richard himself in a few

scornful words disposed of this accusation. The accusation that he,

Richard of England, would stoop to poison a man whom he could have

crushed in an instant, was too absurd to be seriously treated.

"I am sure," the king said, "that not one person here believes this idle

tale. That I did not always agree with the other leaders is true; but I

call upon every one here to say whether, had they listened to me and

followed my advice, the crusade would not have had another ending. Even

after Phillip of France had withdrawn; even after I had been deserted by

John of Austria, I led the troops of the crusaders from every danger and

every difficulty to within sight of the walls of Jerusalem. Had I been

supported with zeal, the holy city would have been ours; but the apathy,

the folly, and the weakness of the leaders brought ruin upon the army.

They thought not of conquering Jerusalem, but of thwarting me; and I

retort upon them the charge of having sacrificed the success of the

crusade. As to the terms of peace, how were they made? I, with some fifty

knights and 1000 followers alone remained in the Holy Land. Who else, I

ask, so circumstanced, could have obtained any terms whatever from

Saladin? It was the weight of my arm alone which saved Jaffa and Acre,

and the line of seacoast, to the Cross. And had I followed the example

set me by him of Austria and the Frenchman, not one foot of the Holy Land

would now remain in Christian hands."

The trial was soon over, and without a single dissentient the King of

England was acquitted of all the charges brought against him. But the

money was not yet raised, and King Richard was taken back into the heart

of Germany. At length, by prodigious exertions, half the amount claimed

was collected, and upon the solicitations of the pope and of the counts

of his own empire, the emperor consented to release Richard upon, receipt

of this sum and his royal promise that the remainder should be made up.

Not as yet, however, were the intrigues at an end. Prince John and King

Phillip alike implored the emperor to retain his captive, and offered to

him a larger sum than the ransom if he would still hold him in his hands.

Popular opinion was, however, too strong. When the news of these

negotiations became bruited abroad, the counts of the empire, filled with

indignation, protested against this shame and dishonour being brought

upon the country. The pope threatened him with excommunication; and at

last the emperor, feeling that he would risk his throne did he further

insist, was forced to open the prison gates and let the king free.

Cuthbert, Blondel, and a few other trusty friends were at hand, and their

joy at receiving their long-lost sovereign was indeed intense. Horses had

been provided in readiness, and without a moment's delay the king

started, for even at the last moment it was feared that the emperor might

change his mind. This indeed was the case. The king had not started many

hours, when the arrival of fresh messengers from Phillip and John induced

the emperor once more to change his intentions, and a body of men were

sent in pursuit of the king. The latter fortunately made no stay on the

way, but changing horses frequently--for everywhere he was received with

honour and attention--he pushed forward for the coast of the North Sea,

and arrived there two or three hours only before his oppressors.

Fortunately it was night, and taking a boat he embarked without a

moment's delay; and when the emissaries of the emperor arrived the boat

was already out of sight, and in the darkness pursuit was hopeless.

On landing at Dover, the first to present himself before him was Prince

John, who, in the most abject terms besought pardon for the injuries he

had inflicted. King Richard waved him contemptuously aside.

"Go," he said, "and may I forget your injuries as speedily as you will

forget my pardon."

Then taking horse, he rode on to London, where he was received with the

most lively acclamation by his subjects.

The first step of King Richard was to dispossess all the minions of John

from the castles and lands which had been taken from his faithful

adherents. Some of these resisted; but their fortresses were speedily

stormed. Sir Rudolph was not one of these. Immediately the news of King

Richard's arrival in England reached him, feeling that all was now lost,

he rode to the seacoast, took ship, and passed into France, and Cuthbert,

on his arrival at Evesham, found himself undisputed lord of the place. He

found that the hiding-place of his mother had not been discovered, and,

after a short delay to put matters in train, he, attended by a gallant

retinue, rode into Wiltshire to the castle of Sir Baldwin of B‚thune.

Here he found the Lady Margaret safe and sound, and mightily pleased to

see him. She was now seventeen, and offered no objections whatever to the

commands of King Richard that she should at once bestow her hand upon the

Earl of Evesham. By the king's order, the wedding took place at London,

the king himself bestowing the bride upon his faithful follower, whom we

may now leave to the enjoyment of the fortune and wife he had so

valiantly won.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Winning His Spurs, by George Alfred Henty