OUR KNIGHT'S STORY
"ONCE upon a time there lived a knight called 'Sir Roger Dereker.' He
had fought his king's battles from the time he had been a little boy of
fourteen, when he had gone out with the king himself, as his page. He
was the bravest knight about the king's court; he did not seem to know
what fear was, and everybody who knew him loved him. For though he was
bold and brave he was gentleness itself with women and children, and
with any one who needed his pity and help. He lived in a strong castle
not very far from his king, and he had a young wife to whom he was
devoted—"
"Oh!" I cried. "You must tell us how he got her, Aunt Mildred; and
please make it very exciting."
"Well, one bitterly cold winter night he was riding home with his
page behind him. The rain and sleet were driving furiously into his
face. His hands were so cold he could hardly hold his rein, and his
good horse, called Goldenhawk, could only move at a foot's pace, for
they were passing through a black forest, with gloomy pines, and a
mass of undergrowth obstructed their progress. Suddenly he heard a
crashing through the bushes behind him, and a snow-white horse dashed
frantically past him with the form of a woman upon his back. She was
covered from head to foot in a dark blue cloak, and seemed to be trying
in vain to pull her horse up.
"'After!' Roger cried to his page. 'She is being carried away against
her will!'
"He put spurs into his own steed, and he and his page pursued the
runaway till they had left the forest behind them. Now a great plain
stretched before them, and in the distance were the twinkling lights of
the good knight's castle.
"So fast had the lady's horse fled across the plain, that they did not
reach her till she had drawn up before the portcullis of the castle.
The white horse was covered with foam, and the lady was breathless and
exhausted.
"Sir Roger rode forward and saluted her.
"'Madame, it is a terrible night, and you are close to my door, which
is always open to shelter strangers in need. Will you do me the
pleasure of partaking of my hospitality?'
"The lady drew her cloak closer round her, and said in the softest tone
possible:
"'I thank you, sir. I am far from home—in truth, I am homeless, and I
know not where my servants are. Some one is pursuing me; he has killed
my father and burnt my home. I need protection.'
"Sir Roger blew his horn, the portcullis was raised, and the knight and
lady had barely passed inside before, with a thundering roar, a body of
mounted men swept up to the gate.
"The leader called out in tones of fury:
"'That lady belongs to me. She is my promised wife!'
"Sir Roger vouchsafed no answer. He took his fair visitor to his
mother's apartments, and did not see her again till supper-time. Her
pursuers were not strong enough to storm his castle, so with many
threats and curses they retreated.
"When Sir Roger met his guest at supper, he was startled at her
wonderful beauty. She was quite a young girl, in a white robe
embroidered with gold. Her hair was a rich brown, falling in rippling
waves round her sweet pale face; she had deep blue eyes with long
curved lashes, and her face was a picture of innocent beauty. As their
eyes met, the faintest pink blush rose in her cheeks. She took her seat
at his table in silence.
"But after the meal was over, he led the way into his favourite
sitting-room, and beside a blazing fire she told him her history.
Her sweet eyes were full of tears as she repeated how her father had
fallen in a furious fight with his greatest enemy, Baron Dacre, who
had demanded her hand and had been refused. She told him how, through
the treachery of a servant, the Baron gained an entrance into their
courtyard, and a terrible fight ensued. When at last her home was in
flames, she fled alone, mounted on her white steed, and the Baron and
his men instantly gave chase to her.
"'How can I thank you, sir,' she said, as she raised her eyes to his,
'for befriending and sheltering a maid who is now an orphan and an
outcast?'
"'By giving me the right to protect and shelter you evermore,' was Sir
Roger's earnest reply.
"And that was how he wooed and won his bride."
We all clapped our hands as a kind of applause.
Then Aunt Mildred went on:
"Troublous times came for our good knight. His king was surrounded by
treacherous courtiers, and this very Baron Dacre rose up against him
with a large faction of discontented subjects, and a civil war began to
rage.
"On the very eve of Sir Roger's marriage with the Lady Gwendoline, a
messenger arrived at his gates, calling him to arms. Sir Roger tore
himself away from his beautiful bride, and when for one moment she
protested, he said, 'My sweetheart, I am bound to my king with the
cords of honour and of love. I love you not the less because I love him
first. I would not sully the shield of my knighthood by failing him
when he desires my services.'
"And so he rode away and was absent for four long months, when he
returned to her covered with wounds and with glory.
"For a time, he rested peacefully at home, but one day his castle was
assaulted by this Baron Dacre with a large number of followers, and
he was hard put to it to defend his wife and belongings. In the very
midst of the fray, a messenger entered the castle by the secret passage
that led underground for a mile, and had its exit in the middle of the
forest. It was a call to attend upon the king that very hour.
"For one moment he hesitated; he knew if he went, his home would be
taken and destroyed.
"He looked at his wife.
"'Sweetheart, I must away to my king; it is a summons for me.'
"She rose to the occasion.
"'And I, with your faithful servants, will hold the castle until your
return.'
"'Bravo!' exclaimed Denys.
"Sir Roger girded on his sword and departed by the secret passage with
the messenger who came. He told his wife if hard-pressed, she must also
take refuge in it. And if she reached the forest, there was at that end
a cave where she could remain in safety till he rejoined her.
"He went to his king, who was having an important consultation with his
nobles and wished to ask Sir Roger's advice upon a knotty point. He
gave it; and then, happening to raise his eyes, the king saw from his
castle window a mighty column of fire rising up into the sky. He asked
the reason of it, and Sir Roger, standing before him with compressed
lips and pale cheeks, made answer:
"'Sire, that is my castle, and the destruction of it has been completed
in my absence by my enemy.'
"'Did you know aught of this before you came?'
"'I was in the midst of my defence when the king's messenger came.'
"'And you left your wife to perish?'
"'She was going to defend it as best she could, and I told her of a
place of safety in case the odds were too great against her.'
"'Sir Roger,' said the king, 'I shall not forget this night. Go, and
may God have saved your brave wife from death.'
"He went, and found his wife in the cave in the midst of a little
company of wounded retainers. She was, without a thought of self,
binding up and dressing their wounds. But when her husband clasped her
in his arms, she fainted dead away. And he discovered that an arrow had
pierced her left arm and was causing her agonising pain."
"Don't make her die, Aunt Mildred!" I cried.
"It was long before the brave knight got reconciled to another home,
but the king gave him a much bigger property than he had had before,
and years passed by. He had a little son, a boy who was the joy of his
heart. And it was his desire to train him up as a soldier and servant
of his king.
"At length in an evil day, after Sir Roger and his men had just
returned from fighting their king's battles in foreign lands, they
brought back with them that dreadful disease, the black plague, into
the castle. First one servant sickened, then another, then Lady
Gwendoline and her little son fell victims to it, and the knight sank
on his knees and besought mercy from God above.
"At this identical moment the king's messenger again appeared,
summoning him to attend his king on an expedition into a far country.
"The knight made not a sigh or murmur, but left his dying wife and
son, and it was not till two weeks elapsed that his king heard of his
faithfulness. They had a severe campaign before them, and Sir Roger was
enabled at the most crucial moment to save the life of his king and
turn the tide of battle from near defeat to a glorious victory. But he
was sore wounded himself, and told his page when the fight was over:
"'Bear me back home, and it may be that my wife and boy have recovered.
I would see them before I die.'
"They took him back, and marvelled that he reached his home in safety.
As he tottered into his hall, he beheld to his infinite joy his wife
and son with open arms receiving him. They had recovered, owing to a
skilful herbalist who tended them night and day.
"But for many weeks the brave knight lay between life and death. At
last he too took up life again, but his health was shattered and his
strength had departed. For some years he lived happily, seeing his son
grow into a brave, handsome soldier. And then, one awful howling stormy
night, he heard a knocking at his gates.
"He was an old man now, his sight was dim, and his hearing dull, but he
tottered to the door.
"'It is my king. Let me receive him and give him the honour that is due
to him!'
"His servants tried to keep him back from the bitter cold of the
courtyard, but he pressed on.
"'My king! My king!'
"And though his followers would not believe it, it was even so.
"The king had been betrayed, and was fleeing for his life. He knew one
loyal subject would receive him, and it was to him he turned.
"The old knight led him into his warm comfortable hall, and then fell
at his feet.
"'Oh, sire, I have dreamt of this honour, but never thought I would
realise it. Enter into the dwelling that is rightly yours, for the
owner of it is your humble and devoted servant, and all that he has
belongs to his king!'
"When the king stooped down with tears in his eyes to raise his
faithful knight, he found his spirit had departed. His last thought
and breath had been spent, as they always had been all his life, in
faithful loyalty and love to his royal master.
"And the king caused the motto to be engraved upon the shields of the
Derekers for evermore—'Semper fidelis, semper paratus.'"
We were quite silent for a minute or two after Aunt Mildred ended. My
heart was thumping, as it always does when I feel roused up.
"He was something like a knight!" said Denys.
"Oh!" said Aylwin. "If only we lived in those good old days!"
Lynette was crying.
"Poor old knight! The king ought to have hugged and kissed him for
being such a dear."
I said nothing—I couldn't, but Aunt Mildred looked across at me and
said:
"Well, Grisel, your eyes are blazing. Do you like it?"
I nodded; then I said with a little effort:
"We can be like that now—and I shall be."
"And so shall I," said Denys, looking across at me. He and I understood
each other.
Aunt Mildred never pointed the moral, that's why we like her stories.
They always inspire us, but she never tells us how they speak to us.
We find that out for ourselves. I was so bubbling over with it, that
I put down my work and dashed out of the room into my bedroom. Then I
got down upon my knees and spoke to my King. And I asked Him to make
me, through thick and thin, even if I had to suffer, a faithful ready
servant of His, and to let me glory in it. And I really meant it.
Denys loved Aunt Mildred's story. I went into the church the next day
to fetch father's surplice to be mended. It was Saturday, and to my
astonishment I found Denys kneeling by the knight's tomb. He jumped up
as if he had been shot, and I pretended not to have seen him kneeling,
because I knew he wouldn't like it. I came up to the tomb and looked at
the knight.
"Were you looking to see if he was really like Aunt Mildred's knight?"
I said, not knowing quite what to say.
And then he spoke straight out.
"I was vowing a vow," he said.
I was awfully interested.
"Do tell me, and I won't tell any one," I said.
He pointed to the motto on the shield.
"I have vowed to be that, God helping me." And then he marched straight
out of the church.
I was determined not to be behind him, so I knelt down again, though I
had done it last night, only I put it in proper vow words this time,
and then I went indoors feeling ready for anything.
We began getting ready for Christmas now. Every day we hoped to hear
news of Andy, but we never did, and we missed him dreadfully. Father
was certain he had been stolen. We were talking about it one evening.
Lynette and I were still working away at Annie's clothes, and the
boys were making Christmas cards. They said they could make them much
better than the cards Mrs. Ribbon was selling for Christmas, and of
course it was much cheaper. Aylwin could draw very well, he could copy
anything, and Denys is very good at flags. He gets a piece of cardboard
and colours it all over like a flag; and he has got a sheet of all the
flags in the world—it came out of the "Boy's Own Paper." So he just
copies them, and puts "A Merry Christmas to You" upon them, and then
they're ready to send.
Aylwin was drawing a donkey, and so of course he began to talk about
Andy.
"I wonder," he said, "if the gipsies have been about and stolen Andy?
Mrs. Ribbon told me to-day that they sometimes come to Lemworth at
Christmas-time. There's to be another kind of fair there. Perhaps if we
went to it we should find Andy there."
"They aren't such duffers," said Denys gloomily. "They wouldn't bring
him into this neighbourhood again. Of course, if they did steal him,
they would sell him to some one else."
"I tell you who would be likely to steal him," I said. "Not the
gipsies—they seem to have given up stealing in these days—but that
horrid swearing man with the ragged donkeys. I heard from Bob Tapson
that he goes to a seaside place in this very county every summer, and
makes a nice sum out of them; and he starves them all the winter time."
The boys seemed quite struck with this idea.
"Of course we ought to find him out. Where does he live?"
"Somewhere the other side of Lemworth," I said. "You ask Bob; he'll
tell you."
Aylwin wanted to rush off then and there, but it was too late, and they
had to wait till the next morning.
And then they began to plan what they would do.
Denys said:
"I expect if we find Andy there, the scoundrel will have dyed him
another colour. How can we identify him? He'll declare, of course, he
belongs to him."
Then we began to think over Andy's marks, and at last we remembered
that one of his ears had a tiny slit in it.
"I hope that will be proof enough," Denys said. "You see we may have to
fight it out before a judge."
"Andy is such a rotter, he'll never answer his name as he ought," said
Aylwin. "He would just as soon go to the thief as to us when called."
"And perhaps we shall have a long lawsuit that will cost heaps and
heaps of money," said Denys again. "It will be called the 'Donkey
case,' and will fill columns in the newspaper."
Lynette began to giggle at the idea.
Then I suggested:
"If you could find out quietly about Andy, it would be best. And when
you were quite sure that it was he, couldn't you steal him back again?
That wouldn't be wrong, would it?"
"Of course it wouldn't. We could visit the stables in the dead of
night. It would be rather exciting."
"You see, he's such an ass," said Aylwin, "that he might take it into
his head not to come with us. He might remember his night-cap."
"I'd make him come fast enough if I once got hold of him," said Denys.
"But after all, the man may not have him, or he may have sold him."
"Anyhow, it is worth trying," I said.
And they all thought it was.