As Cedric of Pelham Wood rode with me into the courtyard, we met my
father, the Lord of Mountjoy, coming from the stables. His favorite
steed, a fine black stallion, Caesar by name, did suffer from a sprain
he had come by at the tournament at Winchester; and my father was much
in fear would never again be fit to bear him in the lists or to the
wars. We came forward but slowly; and Lord Mountjoy had ample time to
note the mud-stained and foam-flecked sides of our mounts, the rents in
my garments and the bloody scratches which the forest boughs had made on
our faces. Truly, I fear I made but a sorry picture; and 'tis little
wonder that a frown was on my father's brow and a roughness in his voice
as he called to me:
"How now, Sir Dickon! Hast thou ridden thy little mare through the
Devil's Brake and foundered her once for all? And who is this fellow in
rags and shreds of Lincoln green that rides at thy side like a comrade?
Methinks 'twere better if he kept his place, an ell or two behind."
Cedric's face grew red with wrath at these words; but I hastened to
answer before he could make utterance.
"Hold, Father. This is Cedric, a forester of Pelham Wood, and our good
and true friend. Twice or thrice this day hath he with his good
cross-bow (of which he hath a skill like that of Old Marvin himself)
saved me from death at the hands of the Carletons."
"By my faith! Say'st thou so, my boy?" exclaimed Father, with a wondrous
change of countenance. Then, turning to Cedric,
"Any who fights the Carleton wolves is a friend to all true Mountjoys.
Come my lad, thy hand! And thy pardon if I did speak a thought rough,
not knowing thy deserts. Wert thou sore beset? And did thy bolts make
good men and quiet of some of those restless knaves?"
"Some of them, my lord, will ne'er again rob an honest farmer of his
stores or burn a woodman's cottage," said Cedric with a smile.
"By'r Lady! Thou'rt a man, and shall be a Mountjoy, if guerdon can keep
thee," cried my father. "But hold! Give thy mounts to the grooms, and
come to the hall. 'Tis ill talking with an empty stomach and a dry
throttle. And I'll warrant you're famished, both. There's a hot pasty
and somewhat else to be found, I'll be bound. You shall tell me of this
day's work by the board and the fire."
In the hall we were greeted by my lady mother, who had heard somewhat of
that which passed in the courtyard. Cedric doffed his cap when I
presented him to her ladyship, and bowed with a grace I looked not for.
And she did ask most eagerly if aught of harm had come to either of us.
Being assured that we were yet whole of skin save for the woodland
boughs, she brought with her own hands a bench before the fire, and bade
Cedric sit as she might have bidden any knight or courtier who visited
the hall of Mountjoy. Then she hurried out and bade the maids bring meat
and drink of the best for our refreshment.
My father and mother sat down by either side of us as we ate; and when
our hunger had been something dulled, and the maid had been despatched
for a jar of the Mountjoy honey which my mother so closely guards
against the coming of noble guests, I began the tale of the fortunes of
the day.
"Thou knowest, Father, that young Lionel of Carleton hath often sworn to
have the lives of you and me for the check the Carletons had in their
foray on Mountjoy in the spring and for the bolt which came from
Marvin's bow which laid low his father, the Old Wolf of Carleton."
"Full well I know it," growled my father, "an if he were aught but a
beardless youth, I would long ago have challenged him to the combat.
When he hath won his spurs, if he be still of the same mind, I'll meet
him with whatever weapons he chooses, and trust to put an end to his
mouthings."
"That thou'lt never do, Father," I cried, "for Cedric here hath come
before thee. This day, but half a league from Teramore, young Lionel did
meet me as I went my way alone through the forest; and did curse and
revile me and all my house, saying that we of Mountjoy were a race of
dogs. This being more than e'en a Mountjoy could bear, I did challenge
him to mortal fight, and we did meet with swords, on foot there in the
path. I quickly found that he wore, beneath his garment, a coat of
linked mail which shielded him from all my thrusts. All his strokes I
made shift to parry, and at last, when he found he could not reach me
with his sword, he rushed within my guard, seized me with a wrestling
hold and flung me on my back. Then, kneeling on my chest, he placed a
poniard at my throat and sought to make me swear allegiance to the
Carleton, acknowledging him as lord and suzerain. This I would never do;
and truly I thought my last hour had come, for he had drawn back his
dagger for the thrust, when this brave youth, coming through the woods
with cross-bow drawn, did see the Carleton's murderous aim, and let fly
a bolt which struck him through the forehead."
While I spoke my mother had grown pale as death and my father red, with
blazing eyes and angry clinching hands. When I paused my mother cried:
"Oh, Dickon! And had'st thou no wound at all?"
"Not a nick," I answered, "though 'twas close enough, in faith. But we
had more to do in no time at all, for no sooner had the Carleton
breathed his last than there came a-riding towards us six stout
men-at-arms of the Carleton livery. We took horse and rode for our
lives, Cedric here on the Carleton's great war-horse. But my little
Clothilde being no match for their long-limbed steeds, we should have
been overhauled and slain had not Cedric twice turned on them with his
cross-bow, each time landing a bolt that sent one of the robber hounds
to earth. With that, and with hard riding through the woods where no
paths were, we at last got safe away."
"Ah!" cried my father, joyfully, rising and offering his hand again to
Cedric, "'twas sweetly done, i'faith. Three of the Carleton hounds in
one brief day! Whose son art thou, my friend? And where did'st thou
learn such deadly handling of thy weapon?"
"Elbert's son am I," answered Cedric, steadily, "he is forester to my
lord of Pelham; and last year did carry away the prize for archery at
the Shrewsbury tourney. Since I could carry bow, I have shot as he did
teach me."
"What years hast thou?"
"Sixteen, come Candlemas."
"The very age of Dickon here," cried my mother. "Cedric, lad, does thy
mother live?"
"Nay, my lady," quoth he, sadly, "two years agone we buried her."
[Illustration: _WHILE I SPOKE MY MOTHER HAD GROWN PALE AS DEATH_]
"Then thou shalt come to live at Mountjoy," she went on with bonny,
flushing cheeks and bright and eager eyes. "Hast thou learned thy
letters? Canst thou read prayer book or ballad?"
"Nay, my lady," he said again, with a blush. "We of the forest know
little of letters."
"Then I will teach thee. Thou'rt a mannered lad and well spoken for one
who knows not court or town. Thou shalt be a clerk an thou wishest."
"No clerk shall he be," I cried. "Saving thy pardon, good Mother, he
shall be my squire-at-arms. A man that fights as he shall be no
shaven-pate. He shall teach me his craft with the bow, and of him I will
make a bonny swordsman. What say'st thou, Father? Have I not the right
of it?"
My father did smile somewhat to see me so hot and eager in my plans. And
truly, I bethought me then that this lad whom I was choosing for my
comrade-in-arms was one whom but three hours gone I had never seen, and
that now I knew naught of him save that he fought well and truly and
with a wondrous skill of his weapon. Yet, looking at his clear, blue
eyes and his way of holding up his head as a freeman of England, I
repented me not of my words.
Cedric was gazing at Lord Mountjoy, and quietly awaiting his word, while
my lady mother glanced quickly from one to another of us. When my father
began to speak it was slowly and soberly enough.
"Not quite so fast, Sir Dickon. There's many a thought to be taken yet
anent thy knightly training. But now it comes to me that Cedric here
e'en must remain at Mountjoy for some months at least, if he would guard
his life and limb. After this day's work, should any of the Carleton men
come upon him at a vantage, his shrift would be short and no prayers
said."
So was it settled that Cedric should remain with us of Mountjoy. The
next day a messenger was despatched to Elbert, the forester, with the
news of his son's brave deeds and his present safety. I lost no time in
beginning his training for sword-play; and he showed himself the best of
learners. Within a week, moreover, he had shown to me some tricks of the
cross-bow of which I had never heard, and fairly 'mazed our men with the
marks he struck at a hundred paces distance. Already we planned a match
'twixt Cedric and Old Marvin which should be a fete-day for all the
friends of Mountjoy.
Then came a messenger from Shrewsbury, where for the time the King made
his seat, bearing a scroll addressed to my father and sealed with the
sign royal. Father read it slowly to himself as he stood with his back
to the fire in the hall and the King's messenger was quaffing a cup of
wine in the courtyard. My mother and I waited eagerly to hear its
contents. Cedric sat in a farther corner, saying over to himself the
names of the great letters which my mother had made for him on a sheet
of parchment.
'Twas plain to see that the message was not to my father's liking, for
he scowled fearsomely as he conned the words. Suddenly he began reading
it in a loud and wrathful voice; and Cedric dropped his parchment to
listen.
"To Robert, Lord of Mountjoy and Knight of the Holy Sepulcher,
from Henry, King of England, Duke of Normandy and Lord of Anjou,
Acquitaine, and Gascony, _Greeting_.
"Know thou that there hath appeared before our Court at
Shrewsbury, Elizabeth, Lady of Carleton and Teramore, and relict
of Geoffrey, Lord of Carleton, deceased, who hath, on oath, made
complaint against thee, thy minor son, Richard and a certain
yeoman of Pelham Forest, Cedric, son of Elbert, and now harbored
by thee at Mountjoy, as follows:
"That, on Saturday, of October the twenty-second day, thy son
Richard did ride in the forests of Teramore without lawful right
and leave from the holders thereof; that Lionel of Carleton, son
of Geoffrey and Elizabeth of Carleton aforesaid, did meet with
him and order him to leave those lands and return not; that thy
son Richard did then and there attack Lionel of Carleton; and
while they did fight, the yeoman, Cedric, being a servitor and
confederate of Richard of Mountjoy did most foully slay Lionel
of Carleton by a mortal weapon, to wit, a cross-bow bolt
discharged from a point of hiding; that the servitors of
Carleton did pursue and endeavor to arrest Richard of Mountjoy
and the yeoman, Cedric, the which they did resist with force and
arms, and that the aforesaid Cedric did again from hiding strike
down and kill two of the Carleton retainers, so that he and thy
son, Richard, did make their way to the Castle of Mountjoy where
thou hast since harbored and protected them.
"Now therefore, know that it is my will that thou repair to our
Court at Shrewsbury, bringing with thee thy son Richard and the
yeoman, Cedric, and with not more than ten of thy retainers or
men-at-arms, that fair trial of this cause may be had before our
presence, on Thursday, of November the second day, at ten of the
clock.
"And be thou here solemnly charged and commanded to desist from
all violence and quarrel against the family of Elizabeth of
Carleton or any of her servants and retainers, and to cause all
thy family, thy servants and retainers to likewise refrain.
"Given under our hand and seal, this thirty-first day of
October.
"_Henry_ (Rex)."
When the reading was finished we were silent for a space, my father
pacing back and forth with roughened brow, and Mother gazing anxiously
upon him. At last he turned and said:
"We must to Shrewsbury. 'Tis the King's command; and the Mountjoys have
ever been loyal vassals, as none know better than the King himself. What
say'st thou, Richard? Canst thou tell in open court the tale of that
day's work even as we heard it here?"
"That I can, Father," I replied, "'tis the truth, and I care not who
hears it."
"And thou, Cedric," he said, turning to face the forester who had now
advanced to my side, "darest thou to face thy enemies and ours thus?
Remember, 'twill go hard with thee if we fail to bring the King to see
the truth o't. He might order thy hanging easily as the whipping of a
thief. Shall not I rather mount thee on the good horse thou didst win
from the Carleton, with thy cross-bow on thy back and a bag of gold
pieces beneath thy coat, and send thee to my cousin of Yorkshire, there
to bide till this ill wind hath overblown?"
"My lord," answered Cedric, proudly, "that were to save myself at thy
cost. The King hath commanded thee to bring me before his court; and if
thou fail, he will visit his wrath upon thee. I will not fly. Rather
will I ride the good steed thou speakest of to Shrewsbury in thy good
company."
"Well said and bravely," said my father, with a note in his speaking
which I had heard but once, and that when an old comrade-in-arms, whom
he had thought dead in the Holy Land, came in illness and want to our
castle door. Now he gazed for a moment full keenly at the face of
Cedric, then turned and hurried to the courtyard to give orders for the
morrow's journey.
The King's Court was held in the great hall at Shrewsbury, with such a
brave array of lords and knights and men-at-arms, not to speak of clerks
and counsellors with their mighty gowns and wigs, as was but seldom seen
in our Western country. As I gazed at the King in his robes of state,
seated on the dais in the midst, and noted his cold, gray eye and the
hard lines about his mouth, my heart did somewhat misgive me, for all my
repeating over and over to myself that none could gainsay the justice of
our quarrel.
A word overheard as we entered the hall had set me thinking deeply; and
though I feared not for myself, I began to wish that Cedric who now sat
so uprightly by my side had thought fit to take the hint my father gave
when first the summons reached us. 'Twas said that the King, in his
youth, more than thirty years agone, had known Elizabeth of Winchester,
before she was the bride of the Lord of Carleton, that she had then been
one of the fairest and proudest maidens in the kingdom, and Prince Henry
had felt for her more than a passing fancy. However this had been, and
whatever its bearing on the day's fortunes, it was now too late to do
aught but await the event. The herald was announcing the cause against
Richard of Mountjoy and Cedric, son of Elbert.
Two of the Carleton men-at-arms were sworn as witnesses, and told the
tale of the killing of Lionel much as it had been set forth in the
complaint of Elizabeth, their mistress. They declared that when they
first came in sight of us, the Carleton and I were fighting with swords
and hand to hand, and that I, seeming to have the worse of the fray, did
shrilly call to some one hidden in the tangle behind, whereat a
cross-bow bolt came from this ambush and slew their master. From that
time on, their tales of the day's doings kept near the line of truth;
and they did assert full stoutly their honesty in all this business when
the King questioned them, making, 'twas plain to see, no little impress
on his mind. Indeed, 'twas possible they believed the tale themselves,
it being to them most likely from the things that they had seen.
Then was I called upon for my account; and I did set forth all the
doings of that day from the time the Carleton met me in the path,
forgetting not the foul insults with which Lionel began our quarrel nor
the hidden coat of mail with which he thought to shield him. Cedric,
with head held high and wide blue eyes gazing straight at the King, next
told the tale; and his telling was closely like to mine.
When we both had done, the King sat with his eyes on the ground before
him; and the hall was very still till Elizabeth of Carleton, tall,
white-haired and queenly, in silken robes of black, rose in her place,
and, stretching forth her hands, addressed the King:
"Henry of Anjou," she cried, "Elizabeth of Winchester, in her old age
and sorrow, calls to you for vengeance for her murdered son."
More she would have spoken, but bitter tears streamed down her face, and
her voice was choked with sobs.
The King gazed steadily at the weeping lady, and made as though to speak
when my father started from his seat and shouted:
"There was no murder done, my Lord. The Carleton brought his death upon
himself."
The King turned upon him a stern and heavy look.
"Mountjoy," he said, "wast thou there in the forest when Carleton was
slain?"
"Nay, my lord."
"Then knowest thou aught save what thy son tells thee of this fray with
thy enemies?"
"Nay, my lord; but 'tis enough. The Mountjoys fight their enemies and do
not lie about them."
With a wave of his hand the King bade my father be seated. Then he sat
motionless and thoughtful for long, while none ventured to disturb him.
His brow was drawn as with pain and he rested his head on his hand, the
while we of Mountjoy, our enemies of Carleton all the members of that
brilliant company awaited his verdict.
At last he slowly lifted his head and began to speak:
"I find the prisoners guilty of the charge that lies against them. To
Richard, son of Robert, Lord of Mountjoy, I extend my clemency in view
of the loyal and valiant service rendered by his father to our house,
commanding only that he desist from bearing arms till he receive our
permission.
"As for yonder varlet, called Cedric, he shall hang, to-morrow at dawn;
and his body shall swing from Shrewsbury gate as an example to like
evil-doers."
Some of the clerks and constables strove to raise the shout--"Long live
the King"; but all became utterly silent when my father sprang from his
bench, and with a face of fury addressed his sovereign:
"Not so, my lord! Not so! By the Holy Sepulcher, it shall not be."
The King sprang to his feet, and his right hand went to his sword hilt.
"Mountjoy," he shouted, "thou forget'st thyself. Beware lest thou bring
down on thy head a wrath more terrible than that of any Carleton."
"By Heaven, my lord!" returned the Lord of Mountjoy in tones that
matched the King's, "that brave youth shall never hang for having done a
deed that should bring him praise instead. I stand on my rights as a
freeman of England, and demand the _trial by battle_. There lies my
glove."
Tearing from his hand his leathern gauntlet, he dashed it on the floor
at the feet of the King.
All the assembled knights and soldiers drew a deep breath, as one man.
There was a low murmur of applause, for the Mountjoys have many friends.
The King's hand left his sword, and his face relaxed.
"Thou hast the right, Mountjoy," he said. Then, turning to the Carleton
benches, went on: "Is there any among you who will take up this
challenge?"
At this there started forth from a group of knights who had been
standing a little behind the Lady of Carleton, a man of middle age,
short of stature and of wide-mouthed, ill-favored face, but broad of
shoulder and with arms so long that his hands reached nearly to his
knees like those of a great ape I had seen in the train of the Cardinal.
"I, Philip, Knight of Latiere in Gascony, am cousin of Elizabeth, Lady
of Carleton," he shouted. "I take up this glove as her protector and
champion."
Then, seizing the glove, he tossed it high in air; and while it soared
aloft, drew a long and slender blade from its scabbard, and as the glove
fell, pierced it with a flashing thrust so that he held it high where
all might see it impaled on the point of his sword.
"So let it be," said the King. "This cause shall be tried by wager of
battle, here and now. Sir Philip De Latiere, the conditions are at your
will, so they be fair and equal."
"Let him take a sword like unto this," said De Latiere, carelessly, "and
if he chooses one a handsbreadth longer, I care not. Then let him lay
aside all other weapons, as I do; and I trust, with the favor of Heaven,
to be the means of affirming the righteousness of thy judgment."
With this speech, he made a low bow to the King and another to the
assembled knights, and, loosening his sword-belt, handed it with his
scabbard and his outer cloak to a squire.
Then I found voice for a thought that had been boiling within me.
"'Twere well, my lord," I said to the King, "to have this champion
searched for hidden armor. I have grievous knowledge that the Carletons
scruple not to gain that vantage."
Some of the friends of Mountjoy raised a shout:
"Ay! Well spoken! Let him be searched."
The King quelled the tumult with a royal gesture.
"Sir Hugh of Leicester," he said to an aged knight of his train, "make
search of both these champions, and tell us whether they wear other arms
or armor than the terms permit."
In the meantime my father had thrown aside his cloak and belt; and his
sword being far heavier than De Latiere's, had received the loan of a
lighter weapon from one of the King's attendants. Sir Hugh approached
and lightly struck the shoulders and breast and waist of both the
combatants, and announced to the King that neither carried other weapons
of offense or defense than the swords in their hands.
Thereupon a space some twelve paces across was cleared in the center of
the hall, and Sir Philip and Lord Mountjoy stood facing one another,
awaiting the word.
On a signal from the King, the herald shouted, and instantly the blades
struck fire, and the champions whirled about one another in mortal
combat. The Frenchman danced and dodged with a quickness that minded me,
even then, of the beast he so resembled. My father had much ado to
continue facing him; and soon 'twas plain to see that the Carleton
champion was such a master of fence as would find few to equal him in
all England. His blade so flashed in thrust and parry that the eye could
not follow its motions; and my father, of whom always I had thought as
the finest of swordsmen, soon had all he could do, and more, in
defending his breast from the assault, and had no instant's leisure to
threaten his enemy.
Half a minute had not passed ere the Frenchman's slashing blade drew
blood from the Mountjoy's arm, then from his shoulder; and for one black
instant methought the blow was mortal. But for minute after minute, my
father fought on, with lips tight closed and eyes that ever followed the
hand of his enemy. Then I wondered if De Latiere, with all his leaps and
runs, would not tire himself at the last, and slowing in his thrusts,
give my father's slower spent strength its chance for victory. But again
I saw how fast the Mountjoy bled from the two wounds he already had; and
this hope flitted.
Then truly, in bitterness of spirit, did I perceive how false and cruel
is our vaunted trial by wager of battle. Here was my father, a good man
and true, fighting to defend the life of an innocent youth; and this
dancing Frenchman, to whom the sword was as the wand of a juggler, would
soon kill him before our eyes. That Cedric, the forester, was guiltless
of the treacherous deed with which he stood charged altered not a whit
the devilish skill of the champion who fought to see him hang. And if De
Latiere overcame my father at the last, and left him dead at the feet of
the King, the tale that I had told would be no whit less true for such
an outcome. Verily at that moment my eyes were opened, and thoughts came
to me that shall remain while yet I live.
Now the end fast approached. Blood streamed from my father's wounds, and
he breathed fast and thickly. He scarce moved from his tracks save ever
to turn and face his ape-like enemy, whose blade flashed as swiftly as
ever, and in whose eyes gleamed a look of deadly purpose.
My eyes could never follow the stroke which brought to a close this
desperate, unequal combat. What I saw was that the Frenchman's blade had
pierced my father's breast. Then--all the Saints be thanked!--one last
fierce blow from the Champion of Mountjoy.
This instant was the first since the duel began when De Latiere's
matchless guarding had not fenced his body from my father's thrust. As
quick as the light's rebound when it strikes the surface of still water
was the Mountjoy's return of the stroke he had received. The next moment
both the champions lay on the floor; and King and knights and lords
rushed forward to their succor.
De Latiere was thrust clean through the body; and he never moved nor
spoke. But my father's wound, though grievous, it now appeared was far
from mortal, his enemy's blade not having deeply pierced him. Now he
raised himself on his arm and claimed the victory for Mountjoy and the
right.
----
Ten days thereafter, we bore home the Champion of Mountjoy in a
sumptuous litter, which had been the gift of the King himself. Near the
gentle palfrey which bore its van, I rode on my faithful little mare,
for now we had no fear of lurking enemies. By the open side of the
litter, and oft in gay and heartening speech with him who lay on the
silken pillows within, rode Cedric of Pelham Wood, on the captured
war-horse of Carleton and wearing, full well and bravely, a new-made
suit of the Mountjoy purple and gold.