Cedric, the Forester Part 17

In half an hour we had come by roundabout ways to the hazel copse where Marcel and the horses awaited us. In silence we mounted, and in silence rode through all the hours of darkness, Cedric sitting with head bowed forward, enwrapped in gloomy thought as in a sable garment. The way was rough and weary, and we found no solace in the fragrance of the harvest fields and leaf-strewn woods or in the song of the night wind. As the sun rose behind a veil of gray and chilling mists, we climbed the slopes of Rowan Hill and sighted the towers of Mountjoy.

CHAPTER XII-THE IRON COLLAR

A year had pa.s.sed since our ill-fated venture beneath the walls of Kimberley, and 'twas such an autumn morning as makes one forget his cares and sorrows and those of a strife-torn world, and believe in the coming of a better day.

Cedric and I had promised ourselves rare sport in the woods of Grimsby.

The sky overhead was of brightest blue, and the sunlight filtered sweetly through the boughs of oak and beech that now had dropped the half of their leaves to make a rustling carpet underfoot. In the treetops the birds sang l.u.s.tily, making the best of the smiling time that comes before the winter's winds and snows. Now and again a woodmouse scampered on fallen log, a hare sprang away from her form, or a moorfowl scuttled to cover in the bracken. To me there were never sweeter sights and sounds and fragrances than those of autumn woodlands; and to Cedric, the son of a Pelham forester, they were as native and joyous as the brown brook waters to the speckled trout or the green hill pastures to the Mountjoy kine.

Since my comrade and former squire had been knighted at Wenderley, after the victory over the Welsh at the Pa.s.s of the Eagles, we at Mountjoy had grown well used to think of him as Sir Cedric De La Roche, the name conferred by the Lord High Constable when he made him knight and chevalier. But a newer honor had come to him but four months past; and though 'twas well deserved and a most gracious act of our liege lord, the Lion Hearted Richard, we yet could scarce conceive of its reality.

De Lacey, the High Constable, who with the backing of all the Mountjoys and Carletons, had well served the King in the Western counties in the struggle against his usurping brother, John, after the King's return from the German captivity, had told to him the tale of the Welsh battle and something of Cedric's more recent services. Then he had hinted that the fee of Grimsby had been vacant, save for the royal stewards, ever since Sir James Dunwoodie and his brother had perished in the Battle at the Pa.s.s. Forthwith the King summoned secretaries to write at his bidding; and shortly a herald arrived at Castle Mountjoy with letters patent, making our Cedric the Knight of Grimsby and conferring on him in fee the lands and manor house and all the rights Dunwoodie had before.

At the royal a.s.sembly at Shrewsbury, Cedric had appeared with his due quota of six mounted men-at-arms and fifty archers; and no knight or baron in the whole array looked a better captain of his forces or held himself in more manly fas.h.i.+on as the King rode down the line to view us.

Truly my heart swelled that day with gladness at the recognition that had come to so brave and true a man without awaiting the silvering of his hair and the bowing of his shoulders with years.

Lord Mountjoy was mightily proud of Cedric, as I well knew, and had stinted not to boast of him on occasion as a Mountjoy lad with a head as well as hands. And, however he might wish to check o'er-weening youth and confidence, my father might not gainsay that he, that had long been famous for his swordplay through all our countryside, had much ado to hold his own with foil or quarter-staff against me, now that my strength and reach did equal his, or that Cedric of the broad back and oaken thighs could lift breast-high a weight that neither of us could stir.

Now Sir Cedric De La Roche and I adventured through the Grimsby woods, afoot, clad as huntsmen and carrying only our cross-bows and poniards.

For the most part, those that hunt in greenwood choose the long-bow with its cloth-yard shafts; but from a child Cedric had displayed a wondrous skill with the other weapon; it was ever his favorite; and I followed his humor. Already he had struck a fine moorfowl that ran amongst the gorse and I a hare that sat upright beneath a leafy beech, thinking himself well hidden. We talked full loud and gayly as we made our way through bush and brake or along the woodland paths, for truly it was the sunlight and the comrades.h.i.+p and the smell of the fallen leaves that had brought us to the forest rather than any wish for heavy game sacks.

Already we had meat enough for the roasting at our noon-tide campfire; and we little cared for more.

To fare abroad on such a morn, among the gray tree trunks and by the brown woodland streams, was enough for our content. As we walked on, Cedric told tale after tale that he had from old books of ballads and chronicles wherein brave knights rode gayly through just such a land as this and had full many gallant adventures and sweet pa.s.sages at arms.

Almost could I see the fays and elves that he declared were dancing on the forest floor and the old, black-robed magician that held them at his thralls.

Suddenly we heard sound of hoofs, and saw approaching us along a bridle path two armed and mounted hors.e.m.e.n. 'Twas Lord Gilroy, who held the great domain of that name two leagues and more away, and his nephew, a hulking youth of two and twenty or thereabouts, by name Sir Philip Carrington. Both were red of face with hurry, and their horses were well lathered and breathing hard. At first sight of us Lord Gilroy called out loudly:

"Ah, good morrow, gentlemen! Well met, Mountjoy and Grimsby both.

Grimsby, we have to crave thy leave to ride through thy lands in search of a murdering villain that hath escaped us at Gilroy."

"A murderer, sayst thou?" answered Cedric, "whom hath he slain?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: _BOTH WERE RED OF FACE WITH HURRY, AND THEIR HORSES WERE WELL LATHERED AND BREATHING HARD_]

"'Tis Simon, my dogmaster. He lies at the point of death, or is dead for aught I know by this time, his skull near crushed with a cudgel. 'Twas my thrall, Egbert, a surly fellow well deserving of the hangman's noose, that thus a.s.saulted him. It seems the dogmaster had found him sore abusing one o' the best of our hounds, and had rated him soundly, threatening a report to me of his actions. I saw but the end of the matter and that from a distance, and with Philip here have ridden hard after him. The varlet made at once for the woods and has thus far escaped us; but we will run him to earth, if it take the whole of Gilroy.

"A surly fellow indeed!" exclaimed Sir Cedric. "'Tis well that he be apprehended quickly, else he'll join some outlaw band, and bid us all defiance. Thou may'st ride through my lands at will for his capture-or we may chance upon him in the wood. How may we know him?"

Lord Gilroy smiled, but in a hard, grim way he hath that is more menacing than any frown.

"'Tis easy knowing him. He wears an iron collar, like all my thralls, bearing his own name and mine in graven letters. It makes the hunting of them far easier when they have done some violence, or if they attempt to fly from my lands. But give you good day, messieurs! We must fare on. If so be you get sight of him, a cross-bow quarrel would not be amiss if he stop not on order. And if you take and send him to me, I will be much beholden. Our thralls must be kept well in leash, e'en if that leash be on occasion a hangman's knot. Come Philip, ride to the left, I pray thee, while I follow this path through yonder thicket."

Cedric and I walked on, talking of this b.l.o.o.d.y mischief, and of the chances of the thrall's recapture. Somehow the brightness had gone from the sun glints, and the woodland seemed no longer a forest enchanted where nymphs and elves might dance away from hollowed tree or the gray-haired wizard, Merwin, be seen upon a mossy rock, summoning by magic spells a troop of Arthur's chivalry.

"'Tis true this fellow must be taken," said Cedric, sadly, "for such as he make up the outlaw bands that now and again give trouble sore to honest men. But I know not for the life of me why men that are born and die upon this green earth like any others, and that have as good a wish to live unhampered as you and I, should wear upon their necks collars of iron that mark them forever as slaves and bondmen. I have little wonder that such at times break forth with violence. Nay! I have the more that ever they remain quiet like oxen in a paddock awaiting the plowman's yoke."

Cedric had stopped short in the path and was facing me. Upon his broad and comely face was the same stern look he had worn that day he withstood my father in the matter of the churls at De Lancey Manor.

"Why, G.o.d ha' mercy, Cedric!" I protested, "I see no need for all this heat. These thralls have never known other condition; and 'tis like they live the more in comfort for a master's guidance."

Cedric's eyes blazed at this, and he spoke full loudly:

"Look thee now, Sir Richard! Hast ever asked of thrall whether or not he would have his freedom if he might? If ever thou dost, thou'lt find that there's never a villein or thrall in England but would prefer himself as master to the kindest and best of lords that ever lived."

"How know'st thou that?" I questioned, sharply, being myself somewhat kindled by the heat with which he spoke.

"Hark thee, Sir Richard! Thou hast on Mountjoy lands no thralls, for that thy grandfather made freemen of them all. But when I came to Grimsby there were here a dozen or more that wore the iron collar and might not leave the land. I had not been here a fortnight ere I loosed the collars from their necks, and bade them go or stay as pleased them for that now they were free men. Some were youths like ourselves; some strong men of middle life and others old and white-haired; but every one of them fell down before me and wept for very joy that they and their children after them should be free. Forsooth, I liked it not that men with sons older than me should pay me homage as I were a heathen Caliph on his throne. 'Tis nearly four months since; and not one of them has left the lands of Grimsby and every one would fight for me 'gainst any man on earth. Had'st thou seen their faces on that day I threw their collars to the smith to beat into bush-cutting hooks, thou'd never question more whether men would choose to _be_ men rather than cattle."

"Ah well!" I answered, "mayhap it is as thou sayest. Some of the best men under the Mountjoy banner are sons of those my grandfather loosed from bondage. But this is a question too great for our settlement, and this too fair a day for argument. What if we make our fire and dress this meat for dinner? Verily, I am already sharp set with this autumn air."

Just then we spied before us, on a little rise in the woodland, a hunting lodge that had been built by the Dunwoodies for their pleasuring when they and their friends hunted in the forest. Cedric remembered that he had the key to the great lock on the door among those that hung at his girdle; and we advanced to enter and examine the place, I, for one, being glad enough of any happening that should cause us to forget the matters of which we had been talking. Soon we were inside the lodge, and found it clean and comfortable enough, it being furnished forth with a table and benches of logs, split and hewn, and a good broad fireplace with spits whereon to hang the roasting.

"Ah!" cried Cedric in a voice far other than his last speaking, "what say'st thou? Shall we not roast our meat here rather than among the leaves in the wood, where a fire in this dry time may go beyond our holding?"

"Surely," I answered, "'twill be better far to-day. Come, I'll flay and dress the hare while thou makest ready the fire. Thou'rt ever skillful at the kindling."

So we set gayly to work; and in half an hour had our meat before us on the table. Some bread and cheese from our pouches that we toasted o'er the embers made with it a feast fit for any king on a woodland holiday.

Our content with the world returned, and we sang a l.u.s.ty ballad over the well-picked bones. Then, being something thirsty, Cedric started up to see if the lodge contained a pitcher with which he might fetch clear water from the stream near by. Meanwhile my eye had been caught by an old and somewhat rusted broadsword that hung on pegs over the fireplace.

I reached it down at once, and, testing it with a few pa.s.ses and upward strokes, found it a good blade and true; and wondered much that it should have been left in this place as something without worth. Then I saw on a bench in a darkened corner a small anvil and some armorer's tools, and bethought me that the lodge might have been used at need for repairing arms when the Grimsby men were called to war.

For a moment I had not noted Cedric's movements; but now at a sudden word from him I wheeled about and saw him crouching at the door of an inner room of the lodge and gazing into the darkness beyond as a hound that hath run the fox to earth: I crouched beside him and looked also.

The room beyond, it seems, had been used in the Dunwoodies' time for the receiving and dressing of meat and drink and such like offices. There was a small square window, now nearly closed by its plank shutter, but admitting at the side a narrow beam of light. For a time my eyes could make out naught; but after a little I saw, beneath a bench or table in the farthest corner, first two glistening eyes, then, dimly, the form of a man.

Cedric took down his cross-bow and laid a bolt in groove.

"Come forth from there, my man," he shouted, "we have thee fairly caught."

No answer came, and for a moment I doubted if we had seen aright. Then Cedric called out again:

"Come forth, I tell thee. Else I'll fairly send a quarrel through thee."

There came a low groan from the darkness, and words that seemed made with labor:

"Strike then. I care not."

"What say'st thou?" called Cedric, "seest thou not I can strike thee with bolt fairly in face?"

"Strike then. 'Tis better so."

Cedric turned to me with blank amaze upon his face.

"Heard thou ever the like? The man defies us to the death." Then, quickly thrusting his bow into my hands:

"Hold this against mischance. There's more to this than we know. I will fetch this fellow forth."