VILLAINS OUTWITTED.
"Drunk? and speak parrot? and squabble? swear? and discourse
fustian with one's own shadow?"--Shakespeare.
In the meantime, the darkness had gathered quickly and deepened into
night. This was greatly intensified along the forest path by the lofty
and overhanging branches of the trees. The road also had its twists and
turns innumerable, here to avoid a massive tree, and there to avoid a
huge boulder; and it was little better than a cattle path at any time,
and totally impassable, even to the rude Saxon carts, except at broad
daylight. In these circumstances Pierre and party moved with extreme
difficulty, having frequently to stop to make sure of the road, their
oaths and execrations in the meantime resounding through the wood. But
Badger, who was as familiar with the forest as the deer which roamed in
it, sped swiftly and noiselessly after them, catching up with them
quickly. "Ah, ah!" said he, as he caught sight of the black and moving
mass in front of him; "one good Saxon is equal to the half-dozen of you
here, my hearties! Some of you will have a cold bed in the damp grass
to-night for your pains, or else my shafts will go mightily astray!"
Then, sticking his thorn cudgel in his belt, he took his bow from his
back and adjusted an arrow, and then he crept stealthily near to them.
Raising his bow, he drew the arrow to its head; then he withdrew it. "My
fingers," said he, "are in a hurry to make a cur of a Norman the less in
the world. But where is the use in bagging one of their carrion
carcasses and losing the game? To kill a Norman is a luxury; but I must
rescue Ethel. Let me see whether my purpose cannot be served best by
joining my wits to my weapons. There are three couples--two abreast; and
Ethel is in charge of the centre one to the right. I can send a shaft in
the nape of the last one's neck. That is _one_ certain. Then there will
be a stampede probably: I may get another one. Shall I get the villain
who has charge of Ethel? Can't make sure; and if I do, Ethel will come
to the ground with him, and perhaps be badly bruised. Well, some risk
will have to be taken, for I am but one." So saying, he stole nearer to
them. Suddenly, ahead of the party, there was a wide opening in the tops
of the trees directly in the line of vision, the outlines of the figures
in front showing boldly against the starlit sky. "Now is my time," said
Badger, planting his foot firmly, and drawing back the string until it
touched his shoulder--when suddenly a hurried footfall in the path
behind him arrested his attention, and he darted into the thicket,
keeping his arrow in position. When the runner drew near, Badger sprang
forward and faced the new-comer, with his shaft still in position.
"Who's this?" said he. "Speak, or I'll let fly my shaft!"
"Steady, Badger," said the stranger. "Don't shoot a friend."
"Well timed, Bretwul, I have just been wishing for a Saxon or two! What
has brought you?"
"The very purpose that brought you here. I heard of that Norman's
attempt to carry off my young mistress, and I knew the wolf, having
scented prey like that, would never drop the trail until he ran it down.
I watched the abbey night by night, in the hope of frustrating his
purpose; but the villain has got clear off with her."
"Not quite so fast, comrade. If you had been a minute or two later, my
shafts would have overtaken one or more of them. But it is better as it
is, for two of us will make a better fight of it than one. But enough of
this; they are not two hundred yards ahead of us. There are six
horsemen, and the second horseman at the right side has charge of Ethel.
Now, how are we to effect a rescue?"
So the pair debated the matter as they followed on the heels of the
party.
"Well, Bretwul," said Badger, "as I was telling you, I was just going to
try a rough-and-ready method when your footsteps arrested me. I knew it
to be a risky venture, but I little expected any help in the business.
Now I am inclined to think a more favourable opportunity will turn up
by-and-by."
"Well, I am inclined to think so myself, Badger. There is the risk that
the game would carry the shaft, unless it were hit very squarely; and
the odds are the other way in the darkness. Any failure would make it
bad for the young mistress, it is certain."
"That we must prevent, if possible. But now, what are the chances? These
Normans have no strong place near in which they can shut her. I can
promise you they'll not dare to carry her to the camp; there is a lady
there who rescued her before, and was desperate savage with the brute
who offered her violence then. But they will find a place elsewhere;
probably leave her for the night in charge of half their number."
"There's reason in it, Badger. Anyway, it is better to wait awhile, and
see if some better chance is forthcoming."
So the pair continued to dog the steps of their adversaries, until,
emerging from the wood, they struck across an open glade, or clearing,
in the forest, formerly cultivated by a Saxon yeoman. Soon they reached
the fringe of the forest again, where, embowered within its shelter, was
the house of this Saxon; but it was deserted and plundered of
everything. Here they dismounted, Pierre lifting Ethel down and carrying
her into the house. The cloak was removed, and, lighting a torch, its
flickering blaze made visible a two-roomed dwelling, rude and damp in
its tenantless condition. The inner room was doorless, and the outer
door was thrown back and dilapidated. The floors were of earth trodden
hard. There was a rude attempt at a fireplace in the first room; it was
built entirely of rough, unhewn stone, whilst its huge, gaping chimney
was such, that a man would have had no difficulty in ascending it. Into
the inner room Pierre led, or dragged, Ethel; then he fetched a rough
stone from the fireplace for her to sit upon.
"Now, fair one," said he, "this is rather a cold place to call home, but
we'll soon make it a bit more comfortable. I can see no further
advantage in lying in this matter--and I keep a conscience, and don't
make a practice of lying for nothing--so I may as well tell you at once
that my master admires that pretty face of yours. It is a weakness he
has. The more fool he; for it spoils his chances of higher game. Well,
that's a riddle you need not puzzle out. But my master is a knight
renowned for valour, and for some other things not recommended by the
worthy Order of Cistercians, or indeed any strict Orders of the pious
gentry. That, of course, is neither here nor there. But my master, when
he hears of your distress, is bound, I believe, by his oath, to succour
you; and he is well able to do so. It is the highest wisdom on your part
to be friends with him. But heigho! no more of that! A fig for doing
another man's wooing; 'tis worse than carving for another's eating!"
Happily, much of this jargon was perfectly unintelligible to Ethel.
"Here, men," said he, turning to his comrades in the other room. "One of
you must mount guard inside the house, and another outside. We will to
camp, and return soon with both eatables and drinkables; so make the
best of a bad bargain for a little while. Come, men, let us cut the tail
off this business as quickly as we can." So saying, they mounted their
horses, and, leading the disengaged ones, their forms were speedily lost
in the darkness.
"My fingers itch most dreadfully to try the effect of a shaft upon the
carcass of the big lubberly villain who leads the party," said Badger,
raising his bow with the arrow directed towards the hazy forms
disappearing in the night.
"Stay, Badger!" said Bretwul, laying his hand on him. "The game's in the
net; don't rend it."
"Aye, aye. The fool acts on the thought as it is made, but the wise man
when it is weighed. But as surely as the gallows nods when the rogue
goes by, so his time will come!"
"Well, Badger, what is to be the next move? We must get to business
whilst our chance lasts."
"Right, Bretwul. Well, we shall have to work round from the rear of the
house, and we shall thus get close on them if we move stealthily. I
doubt not but we can brain the one outside before he knows where he is;
then, two to one is more than the other will be prepared for."
So saying, the pair stole to the rear of the house, and crept round by
the gable, until Badger peered round the corner at the fellow on duty
outside. Fortunately, he had his back to them, and was talking through
the open door to his comrade within.
"Are you ready, Bretwul?" said Badger, in a whisper to his companion,
who followed closely at his heels.
Bretwul made no reply, but brandished his Saxon broadsword aloft in
token of his readiness. Then, with the agility of a panther, Badger
sprang round the corner of the hovel, and, delivering a powerful blow
with his cudgel upon the back of the Norman's head, he felled him in
insensibility to the ground, whilst another spring quick as lightning
landed him within grappling distance of the other Norman. He also, it is
needless to say, was quite unprepared for any attack, and had barely
time to spring to his feet and raise his arm to ward off Badger's first
stroke, which sent him staggering against the wall; and Bretwul being in
close attendance at that instant, with a sweep of his sword effectually
cut short all further resistance. Then, returning to the door where the
other soldier was lying prostrate, he quickly finished the work of
revenge.
Meanwhile, Ethel from within witnessed the scuffling going on, but
without comprehending in the least the import of it; she improved the
opportunity for flight which the struggle afforded her, by bounding
through the open door, and fled like a Will-o'-the-wisp across the open
glade in a frantic effort to gain the shelter of the forest, whilst her
rescuers followed full chase in her wake. Very quickly, however,
Badger's nimble feet caught up to her; when, to her infinite relief, she
discovered that they were faithful friends, who had risked much to free
her from the custody of the brutal Norman troopers.
Whilst this was transpiring, Pierre and the remainder of his troop
stumbled along through the darkness of the forest, all unconscious that
their footsteps had been dogged, and their evil purposes frustrated,
just when they thought they had been crowned with perfect success.
"This has been neatly done, men," said Pierre. "Now, I wonder what the
Baron will do for us in the shape of reward!"
"Well, I guess none of our pouches will burst with gold pieces, Pierre.
I expected better pay or more plunder when I took service, I promise
you; but his scurvy humours are even worse than his pay. Why don't you
take the lead? The whole company is ready for a new master."
"Hold hard a bit. There are others who are getting as tired of his
humours as yourself; and if you hear the clash of steel between us you
need not be very much surprised, for my temper is none of the smoothest,
and he may play the bully some day until nothing will settle it but cold
steel."
When they reached the camp, Pierre alone carried the news to his master.
No sooner, however, had he put his head within the tent than he gave a
grunt of infinite disgust as he set eyes upon the Baron; for he was far
gone in his cups.
"Hilloa, Pierre! What now, you scowling villain! What has brought you?"
he bawled, with drunken incoherency; but, drunk as he was, he had
noticed Pierre's disgust.
"We have executed your order, Baron," Pierre replied.
"Executed my order? Who? What have they done?"
"The commission you gave me about the Saxon lady down at the monastery."
"The wench that all the pother's about?"
"Yes, the same."
"Ah, I remember. Have you got her, Pierre?"
"Yes, as snug as anybody could wish. Not a whisper has got abroad."
"Bravo, Pierre! You are a gentleman. Pierre, do you hear? You are a
gentleman, or a thief, I don't care which," giving a drunken chuckle.
"Drink, Pierre," said he, handing him a flagon of wine with a trembling
hand.
Pierre took the goblet and drained it to the last drop.
Vigneau took it again, and looked into it for a moment with maudlin
pensiveness, as though he could scarcely realise that it was really the
bottom he gazed at. But the quarrelsome humour in him was never so
rampant as when he was in his cups.
"There's a pint of good Rhenish gone, Pierre. Gone, too, into a stomach
that must be about rotted out with Saxon ale by this time."
"Well, we'll bring them round with soothing draughts of Rhenish,
master."
"Eh, dog? Not with mine, Pierre. With swill if you like, Pierre! Swill
will do for a hog like you, Pierre! Eh! Do you hear me? Swill will do
for you!" said the Baron, becoming quarrelsome with drunken excitement.
Fortunately, Pierre was sober, or matters would speedily have become
serious. Checking the rising choler, he said,--
"What is to be done with this Saxon--Ethel, as she is called?"
"What do you know about Ethel, eh? Have you got her, scurvy villain? I
say, have you got her? Answer me that."
"I told you we had, not a minute since."
"Eh? Then speak civilly, varlet! Do you know who I am? D---- me, I allow
thy tongue too much licence. I'll not have such impudence from a scurvy
trooper as I've taken lately. I'll teach you I'm a gentleman. Now mark
me, Pierre. Keep a civil distance. I'll not have it," and he began
fumbling for the hilt of his sword.
"Pshaw!" said Pierre, assuming both a look and a tone of disgust.
"Eh, churl, what now?" roared Vigneau, in a towering rage, with great
effort staggering to his feet, and after prolonged exertion getting out
his sword, and lunging furiously at Pierre. But the act was too much for
him. Lurching head foremost, the sword's point came ignominiously to the
ground with his weight upon it, to prevent his falling flat. The result
was, his great weight forced it a foot into the ground, from which his
utmost efforts failed to extricate it, Pierre, meanwhile, vanishing from
the tent with a horse-laugh. Vigneau dropped into his seat and stared
vacantly at the point where Pierre had vanished, then at the sword
standing upright in the ground. But his efforts to recall what it was
all about were a total failure. Slowly his bleared eyes closed, and soon
after he slid from his seat to the ground, to sleep off the effects of
the night's debauch.
"The Baron is drunk and quarrelsome as usual to-night," said Pierre to
his comrades, as he issued from the tent. "Nothing can be done with him
till morning, and if he be not in a pleasanter humour in the morning,
and come down handsome for us, you will have to be led by another, I
trow. Well, we'll finish the business we have begun. Let us take
victuals and a few other things down yonder. It will be a little more
like a habitation, and not so like a sty."