A RESCUE.
The whole of the startling scene of the abduction of the Earl of
Evesham's daughter occupied but a few seconds. Cuthbert was so astounded
at the sudden calamity that he remained rooted to the ground at the spot
where, fortunately for himself, unnoticed by the assailants, he had
stood when they first burst from their concealment.
For a short time he hesitated as to the course he should take.
The men-at-arms who remained in the castle were scarce strong enough to
rescue the child, whose captors would no doubt be reinforced by a far
stronger party lurking near.
The main body of Sir Walter's followers were deep in the recesses of the
forest, and this lay altogether out of the line for Wortham, and there
would be no chance whatever of bringing them up in time to cut off the
marauders on their way back.
There remained only the outlaws, who by this time would be in Langholm
Forest, perhaps within a mile or two of the castle itself.
The road by which the horsemen would travel would be far longer than
the direct line across country, and he resolved at once to strain every
nerve to reach his friends in time to get them to interpose between the
captors of the Lady Margaret and their stronghold.
For an instant he hesitated whether to run back to Erstwood to get a
horse; but he decided that it would be as quick to go on foot, and far
easier so to find the outlaws.
These thoughts occupied but a few moments, and he at once started at the
top of his speed for his long run across the country.
Had Cuthbert been running in a race of hare and hound, he would
assuredly have borne away the prize from most boys of his age. At
headlong pace he made across the country, every foot of which, as far as
the edge of Langholm Chase, he knew by heart.
The distance to the woods was some twelve miles, and in an hour and a
half from the moment of his starting Cuthbert was deep within its
shades. Where he would be likely to find the outlaws he knew not; and,
putting a whistle to his lips, he shrilly blew the signal, which would,
he knew, be recognized by any of the band within hearing.
He thought that he heard an answer, but was not certain, and again
dashed forward, almost as speedily as if he had but just started.
Five minutes later a man stood in the glade up which he was running. He
recognized him at once as one of Cnut's party.
"Where are the band?" he gasped.
"Half a mile or so to the right," replied the man.
Guided by the man, Cuthbert ran at full speed, till, panting and scarce
able to speak, he arrived at the spot where Cnut's band were gathered.
In a few words he told them what had happened, and although they had
just been chased by the father of the captured child, there was not a
moment of hesitation in promising their aid to rescue her from a man
whom they regarded as a far more bitter enemy, both of themselves and
their race.
"I fear we shall be too late to cut them off," Cnut said, "they have so
long a start; but at least we will waste no time in gossiping."
Winding a horn to call together some of the members of the band who had
scattered, and leaving one at the meeting-place to give instructions to
the rest, Cnut, followed by those assembled there, went off at a
swinging trot through the glades toward Wortham Castle.
After a rapid calculation of distances, and allowing for the fact that
the baron's men--knowing that Sir Walter's retainers and friends were
all deep in the forest, and even if they heard of the outrage could not
be on their traces for hours--would take matters quietly, Cnut concluded
that they had arrived in time.
Turning off, they made their way along the edge of the wood, to the
point where the road from Evesham ran through the forest.
Scarcely had the party reached this point when they heard a faint
clatter of steel.
"Here they come!" exclaimed Cuthbert.
Cnut gave rapid directions, and the band took up their posts behind the
trees, on either side of the path.
"Remember," Cnut said, "above all things be careful not to hit the
child, but pierce the horse on which she is riding. The instant he
falls, rush forward. We must trust to surprise to give us the victory."
Three minutes later the head of a band of horsemen was seen through the
trees. They were some thirty in number, and, closely grouped as they
were together, the watchers behind the trees could not see the form of
the child carried in their midst.
When they came abreast of the concealed outlaws Cnut gave a sharp
whistle, and fifty arrows flew from tree and bush into the closely
gathered party of horsemen. More than half their number fell at once;
some, drawing their swords, endeavored to rush at their concealed foes,
while others dashed forward in the hope of riding through the snare into
which they had fallen. Cuthbert had leveled his crossbow, but had not
fired; he was watching with intense anxiety for a glimpse of the
bright-colored dress of the child. Soon he saw a horseman separate
himself from the rest and dash forward at full speed. Several arrows
flew by him, and one or two struck the horse on which he rode.
The animal, however, kept on its way.
Cuthbert leveled his crossbow on the low arm of a tree, and as the rider
came abreast of him touched the trigger, and the steel-pointed quarrel
flew true and strong against the temple of the passing horseman. He fell
from his horse like a stone, and the well-trained animal at once stood
still by the side of his rider.
Cuthbert leaped forward, and to his delight the child at once opened her
arms and cried in a joyous tone:
"Cuthbert!"
The fight was still raging fiercely, and Cuthbert, raising her from the
ground, ran with her into the wood, where they remained hidden until the
combat ceased, and the last survivors of the baron's band had ridden
past toward the castle.
Then Cuthbert went forward with his charge and joined the band of
outlaws, who, absorbed in the fight, had not witnessed the incident of
her rescue, and now received them with loud shouts of joy and triumph.
"This is a good day's work indeed for all," Cuthbert said; "it will make
of the earl a firm friend instead of a bitter enemy; and I doubt not
that better days are dawning for Evesham Forest."
A litter was speedily made with boughs; on this Margaret was placed, and
on the shoulders of two stout foresters started for home, Cnut and
Cuthbert walking beside, and a few of the band keeping at a short
distance behind, as a sort of rearguard, should the baron attempt to
regain his prey.
There was now no cause for speed, and Cuthbert in truth could scarce
drag one foot before another, for he had already traversed over twenty
miles, the greater portion of the distance at his highest rate of speed.
Cnut offered to have a litter made for him also, but this Cuthbert
indignantly refused; however, in the forest they came upon the hut of a
small cultivator, who had a rough forest pony, which was borrowed for
Cuthbert's use.
It was late in the afternoon before they came in sight of Evesham
Castle. From the distance could be seen bodies of armed men galloping
toward it, and it was clear that only now the party were returning from
the wood, and had learned the news of the disappearance of the earl's
daughter, and of the finding of the bodies of her attendants.
Presently they met one of the mounted retainers riding at headlong
speed.
"Have you heard or seen anything," he shouted, as he approached, "of the
Lady Margaret? She is missing, and foul play has taken place."
"Here I am, Rudolph," cried the child, sitting up on the rude litter.
The horseman gave a cry of astonishment and pleasure, and without a word
wheeled his horse and galloped past back at headlong speed toward the
castle.
As Cuthbert and the party approached the gate the earl himself,
surrounded by his knights and followers, rode out hastily from the gate
and halted in front of the little party. The litter was lowered, and as
he dismounted from his horse his daughter sprang out and leaped into his
arms.
For a few minutes the confusion and babble of tongues were too great for
anything to be heard, but Cuthbert, as soon as order was somewhat
restored, stated what had happened, and the earl was moved to fury at
the news of the outrage which had been perpetrated by the Baron of
Wortham upon his daughter and at the very gates of his castle, and also
at the thought that she should have been saved by the bravery and
devotion of the very men against whom he had so lately been vowing
vengeance in the depths of the forest.
"This is not a time," he said to Cnut, "for talk or making promises, but
be assured that henceforth the deer of Evesham Chase are as free to you
and your men as to me. Forest laws or no forest laws, I will no more
lift a hand against men to whom I owe so much. Come when you will to the
castle, my friends, and let us talk over what can be done to raise your
outlawry and restore you to an honest career again."
Cuthbert returned home tired, but delighted with his day's work, and
Dame Editha was surprised indeed with the tale of adventure he had to
tell. The next morning he went over to the castle, and heard that a
grand council had been held the evening before, and that it had been
determined to attack Wortham Castle and to raze it to the ground.
Immediately on hearing of his arrival, the earl, after again expressing
his gratitude for the rescue of his daughter, asked him if he would go
into the forest and invite the outlaws to join their forces with those
of the castle to attack the baron.
Cuthbert willingly undertook the mission, as he felt that this alliance
would further strengthen the position of the forest men.
When he arrived there was some considerable consultation and discussion
between the outlaws as to the expediency of mixing themselves in the
quarrels between the Norman barons. However, Cnut persuaded them that as
the Baron of Wortham was an enemy and oppressor of all Saxons, it was in
fact their own quarrel that they were fighting rather than that of the
earl, and they therefore agreed to give their aid, and promised to be at
the rendezvous outside the castle to be attacked soon after dawn next
morning. Cuthbert returned with the news which gave great satisfaction
to the earl.
The castle was now a scene of bustle and business; armorers were at work
repairing headpieces and breastplates, sharpening swords and
battle-axes, while the fletchers prepared sheaves of arrows. In the
courtyard a number of men were engaged oiling the catapults, ballistas,
and other machines for hurling stones. All were discussing the chances
of the assault, for it was no easy matter which they had set themselves
to do. Wortham Hold was an extremely strong one, and it needed all and
more than all the machines at their disposal to undertake so formidable
an operation as a siege.
The garrison, too, were strong and desperate; and the baron, knowing
what must follow his outrage of the day before, would have been sure to
send off messengers round the country begging his friends to come to
his assistance. Cuthbert had begged permission of his mother to ask the
earl to allow him to join as a volunteer, but she would not hear of it.
Neither would she suffer him to mingle with the foresters. The utmost
that he could obtain was that he might go as a spectator, with strict
injunctions to keep himself out of the fray, and as far as possible
beyond bow-shot of the castle wall.
It was a force of some four hundred strong that issued from the wood
early next morning to attack the stronghold at Wortham. The force
consisted of some ten or twelve knights and barons, some one hundred and
fifty or one hundred and sixty Norman men-at-arms, a miscellaneous
gathering of other retainers, two hundred strong, and some eighty of the
forest men. These last were not to fight under the earl's banner, but
were to act on their own account. There were among them outlaws, escaped
serfs, and some men guilty of bloodshed. The earl then could not have
suffered these men to fight under his flag until purged in some way of
their offenses.
This arrangement suited the foresters well.
Their strong point was shooting; and by taking up their own position,
and following their own tactics, under the leadership of Cnut, they
would be able to do far more execution, and that with less risk to
themselves, than if compelled to fight according to the fashion of the
Normans.
As they approached the castle a trumpet was blown, and the herald
advancing, demanded its surrender, stigmatized the Baron of Wortham as a
false knight and a disgrace to his class and warned all those within
the castle to abstain from giving him aid or countenance, but to submit
themselves to the earl, Sir Walter of Evesham, the representative of
King Richard.
The reply to the summons was a burst of taunting laughter from the
walls; and scarcely had the herald withdrawn than a flight of arrows
showed that the besieged were perfectly ready for the fray.
Indeed the baron had not been idle. Already the dispute between himself
and the earl had come to such a point that it was certain that sooner or
later open hostilities would break out.
He had therefore been for some time quietly accumulating a large store
of provisions and munitions of war, and strengthening the castle in
every way.
The moat had been cleaned out, and filled to the brim with water. Great
quantities of heavy stones had been accumulated on the most exposed
points of the walls, in readiness to hurl upon any who might try to
climb. Huge sheaves of arrows and piles of crossbow bolts were in
readiness, and in all, save the number of men, Wortham had for weeks
been prepared for the siege.
On the day when the attempt to carry off the earl's daughter had failed,
the baron, seeing that his bold stroke to obtain a hostage which would
have enabled him to make his own terms with the earl had been thwarted,
knew that the struggle was inevitable.
Fleet messengers had been sent in all directions. To Gloucester and
Hereford, Stafford, and even Oxford, men had ridden, with letters to the
baron's friends, beseeching them to march to his assistance.
"I can," he said, "defend my hold for weeks. But it is only by aid from
without that I can finally hope to break the power of this baggart
[Transcriber's note: sic] earl."
Many of those to whom he addressed his call had speedily complied with
his demand, while those at a distance might be expected to reply later
to the appeal.
There were many among the barons who considered the mildness of the Earl
of Evesham toward the Saxons in his district to be a mistake, and who,
although not actually approving of the tyranny and brutality of the
Baron of Wortham, yet looked upon his cause to some extent as their own.
The Castle of Wortham stood upon ground but very slightly elevated above
the surrounding country. A deep and wide moat ran round it, and this
could, by diverting a rivulet, be filled at will.
From the edge of the moat the walls rose high, and with strong flanking
towers and battlements.
There were strong works also beyond the moat opposite to the drawbridge;
while in the center of the castle rose the keep, from whose summit the
archers, and the machines for casting stones and darts, could command
the whole circuit of defense.
As Cuthbert, accompanied by one of the hinds of the farm, took his post
high up in a lofty tree, where at his ease he could command a view of
the proceedings, he marveled much in what manner an attack upon so fair
a fortress would be commenced.
"It will be straightforward work to attack the outwork," he said, "but
that once won, I see not how we are to proceed against the castle
itself. The machines that the earl has will scarcely hurl stones strong
enough even to knock the mortar from the walls. Ladders are useless
where they cannot be planted; and if the garrison are as brave as the
castle is strong, methinks that the earl has embarked upon a business
that will keep him here till next spring."
There was little time lost in commencing the conflict.
The foresters, skirmishing up near to the castle, and taking advantage
of every inequality in the ground, of every bush and tuft of high grass,
worked up close to the moat, and then opened a heavy fire with their
bows against the men-at-arms on the battlements, and prevented their
using the machines against the main force now advancing to the attack
upon the outwork.
This was stoutly defended. But the impetuosity of the earl, backed as it
was by the gallantry of the knights serving under him, carried all
obstacles.
The narrow moat which encircled this work was speedily filled with great
bundles of brushwood, which had been prepared the previous night. Across
these the assailants rushed.
Some thundered at the gate with their battle-axes, while others placed
ladders by which, although several times hurled backward by the
defenders, they finally succeeded in getting a footing on the wall.
Once there, the combat was virtually over.
The defenders were either cut down or taken prisoners, and in two hours
after the assault began the outwork of Wortham Castle was taken.
This, however, was but the commencement of the undertaking, and it had
cost more than twenty lives to the assailants.
They were now, indeed, little nearer to capturing the castle than they
had been before.
The moat was wide and deep. The drawbridge had been lifted at the
instant that the first of the assailants gained a footing upon the wall.
And now that the outwork was captured, a storm of arrows, stones, and
other missiles was poured into it from the castle walls, and rendered it
impossible for any of its new masters to show themselves above it.
Seeing that any sudden attack was impossible, the earl now directed a
strong body to cut down trees, and prepare a moveable bridge to throw
across the moat.
This would be a work of fully two days; and in the meantime Cuthbert
returned to the farm.