Cedric plucked at my sleeve and drew me aside.
"Thou and Sir Geoffrey come with me a little," he whispered, "I have
somewhat to say on this."
Quickly I sought out Geoffrey, and led him away into the bracken in
which Cedric had already disappeared. A bow-shot away from the camp we
came up with him.
"Sir Richard," he said, speaking far more quickly than was his wont. "I
have a thought of the whereabouts of this fastness that the robber
speaks of in his letter."
My heart leaped within me. "Hast thou, Cedric?" I cried. "If any one of
all our company should know, it would be thou who art native to these
woods and knowest them as the very deer that run them."
"Aye," he replied shortly, "I believe 'tis not two miles hence. What
say'st thou? Shall we reconnoiter?"
"With all my heart," I answered.
Geoffrey drew his cross-bow cord and placed a bolt in groove. "Lead on,
Cedric," he said in a low voice. "I will follow thee if 'tis to a lion's
den."
"Come then," replied Cedric, and moved away through the underwood.
He took a roundabout course to avoid our own sentries and their
questions which might be hampering. In five minutes we had passed the
line where a little ravine ran between the posts of two of the archers
who stood on guard, and were hurrying through the wood, crouching for
shelter behind trees and rocks and crossing the more open spaces in
stooping runs lest we encounter the arrows of the outlaws. We saw none
of our enemies, however, and in an hour were on a deeply wooded hillside
amidst huge rocks and brawling streams, half a league and more from our
camp fires.
Now we knew from the added caution of our leader that we approached the
spot he suspected as the fortress of the outlaws. He crouched and
crawled like a serpent, and fully as silently, turning to us from time
to time to lay a finger on his lips. At last he paused at the foot of a
huge old oak that yet bore most of its leaves, and motioning us not to
follow, quickly drew himself up among the branches.
For half a minute he lay on a great limb six yards above the ground and
peered obliquely down the hillside at a point where we could see naught
but a little stream that issued from between huge ledges. Then his face
lighted up of a sudden, and he looked down to us and beckoned us to join
him.
This we managed with no more noise than might well be covered by the
rustling of the oak leaves, and soon lay on the limb beside Cedric and,
peering out betwixt the branches, beheld that to which his finger
pointed.
There was a narrow pathway which led up between the ledges; and, at a
bend in this where they were concealed from any in the wood below, stood
two tall archers in Lincoln green, with axes in their belts, long bows
in hand and arrows ready notched. They neither saw nor heard aught of
us, and we might have fired on them with goodly chance of slaying one or
both; but Cedric now motioned us down to the ground again and soon
joined us beneath the tree.
Without a word he retraced his steps through the forest; and by sundown
we stood again amongst the ferns in the place where he had first
revealed his thought. Then he spoke again:
"'Tis e'en as I thought. The Monkslayer hath his fastness in a wide
cavern at the head of yonder gully. There is no approach save by that
winding path you saw where half a dozen men might well stop a thousand.
He thinks to guard my Lady Carleton there until her ransom be paid. And
whether even then he will let her go unharmed we know not."
Sir Geoffrey ground his teeth in rage.
"Hast thou any plan?" I asked of Cedric.
"Aye," he replied, "though 'tis something ticklish; and if it fail,
'twill be an ill chance indeed."
"Say on, Cedric," said Geoffrey, eagerly.
"This is my thought," said Cedric, "we have till to-morrow's sunrise
before any harm shall befall thy lady mother. Now, it would be
disastrous to attack the fastness openly; but it may be that with two
score of swordsmen, creeping on them just before the dawn, we can take
them by surprise. Your archer is all at disadvantage in fighting at
arm's length; and if such a force can reach the cavern's mouth, I
warrant we snatch away the prisoners almost before they are aware. The
cave is broad but not deep. I remember it full well. There is no room in
it for hiding."
"But Cedric!" I cried, "how shall we reach the cave's mouth without
alarm? Hast thou forgotten the two sentries in the lower pathway?"
Cedric smiled broadly.
"And hast thou forgotten, Sir Dickon, the oak tree from which we spied
them but now? Old Marvin and I together shall care for the sentries."
I drew a deep breath as I caught the full working of his plan. "Cedric,"
I said, "thou wilt never remain a simple squire. Thou hast a head as
well as an arm. The King hath need for such in many places of trust."
"Let us first make this plan succeed," replied Cedric evenly, though I
could see that my words had warmed him to the heart. "Now shall we tell
Lord Mountjoy?"
"Aye," said I, "let us have him from the camp at once. I warrant you
he'll kindle at our news. And he knows which of our swordsmen will carry
themselves best in such a venture."
"And I have twenty men of Carleton here that can be trusted," put in
Geoffrey.
"Right," said Cedric, "'twill make us amply strong. We must have no
blunderers, though, for look you, some of these greenwood men have ears
that can hear a twig break at two hundred paces. We must urge Lord
Mountjoy to hold all at a safe distance till the signal."
Two hours after the midnight we set out through the forest for the
storming of the robber fastness. Cedric, as pathfinder, was in the lead,
followed close by Lord Mountjoy, Sir Geoffrey and me. After us, and
treading most cautiously, 'mongst the leaves and brush, came old Marvin,
the archer, and thirty chosen swordsmen of Mountjoy with a score or more
of Geoffrey's men.
There was no moon; and the faint stars gave but little light in the
forest deeps. Our way lay, as often as not, over steep and rocky slopes
where our faces were torn with thorns and our legs bruised against the
unseen rocks.
We had made little more than half of our way to the outlaw stronghold
when Lord Mountjoy, in coming down a streamlet bank in the darkness,
stepped heavily on a stone that rolled beneath his weight, and went to
the ground with his right foot twisted under him. He gave a groan of
pain, yet in an instant was up again to resume his march. But then 'twas
found this could not be. His ankle had been most sorely wrenched, and
would not at all endure his weight. He sank down again on a leafy bank,
and called us to him. Amidst half stifled groans and grumblings at his
ill fortune he declared he could not move from thence without
assistance. There was no help for it; he must await our return.
Therefore he gave o'er to me the leadership of the venture. We left with
him two stout men-at-arms, and went quickly on, for now it seemed the
sunrise could not be long in coming.
At the fourth hour of the morning we lay by the streamlet bed, two
hundred paces from the robbers' sentry post in the rocky passage. Cedric
and old Marvin had left us to climb the hillside by another route and
gain the branches of the great oak tree. Already there was a grayness in
the dark that told of the coming dawn. Half an hour passed, and by
little and little the trunks of the trees grew more clearly to be seen
and we could well make out each other's faces. Roosting wild fowl roused
themselves, and flew away with a clatter of wings. We knew that Cedric
and Marvin awaited the daylight to make sure their aim. At last, on the
top of a tall tree above me, I spied a beam of sunlight.
Immediately, as it seemed, there came from the oak tree the call of an
owl, twice repeated. This was the signal for which we waited; and we
sprang up together and ran, as silently as might be, toward the pathway
entrance. We gained it unmolested, and with Geoffrey and me in the lead,
quickly came upon the bodies of the sentries. Cedric and Marvin, from
their post in the tree, had well done their work. The sentinels had
perished silently, each with a bolt through his skull.
We rushed forward; and now some of our arms rang against the stones; and
there was a cry from above us. This was no time for stealth and
creeping. On we went with a rush and with a clatter of heels on the
rocks of the path and of steel against steel as we jostled one another
in the race.
In a moment we were at the cavern's mouth; and found a score of the
robbers on their feet to meet us. Arrows whizzed among us and one or two
men fell, mortally hurt. Geoffrey let fly his bolt at a tall villain
that stood in his path, and shot him fair between the eyes. Then I saw
no more for I was face to face with the outlaw chief, and our swords
flashed fire.
He still wore his steel breastplate, which I believe he had not laid
aside that night; and this well matched the shirt of woven mail that had
stayed two or three arrows which had otherwise laid me low. I felt
taller and stronger at that moment than e'er before in my life; and my
sword seemed a very plaything in my hands, like that of the Frenchman,
De Latiere, who had so nearly done to death my father at the court at
Shrewsbury. The outlaw was no novice with the sword, as I who had once
before crossed weapons with him, could well testify. But almost at the
outset I brought to bear the play that, with my father's help, I had all
that summer been perfecting. A swinging feint at the forearm turned
itself in mid-air to a flashing thrust straight at his unguarded throat.
I pierced him through and through, and he fell and died at my feet.
Looking about me, I saw most of the outlaws dead or dying and the
remainder being fast bound as prisoners. Young Sir Geoffrey of Carleton
had dropped his cross-bow on the ground and stood with his mother's arms
firmly clasped about his neck the while he whispered somewhat in her
ear. At her side her two handmaids stood unharmed and loudly weeping for
joy.
As I stood looking, well content, at this spectacle, the Lady of
Carleton suddenly loosed her son and ran toward me. In an instant I too
was clasped in a warm embrace.
"Richard of Mountjoy," she cried, "thou and thine were my son's friends
and rescuers, and now mine also. This day's deeds bespeak thee far
better than any words. Heaven is my witness, I believe thou art a true
man and hast spoken the truth as to thy dealings. All that we can do to
serve thee shall be done. From this day forth and forever there shall be
peace and love betwixt our house and thine."