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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: The Outlaw of Torn
+
+Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+Release Date: December, 1995 [EBook #369]
+[Most recently updated: November 11, 2020]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTLAW OF TORN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+The Outlaw of Torn
+
+by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+
+Contents
+
+ CHAPTER I.
+ CHAPTER II.
+ CHAPTER III.
+ CHAPTER IV.
+ CHAPTER V.
+ CHAPTER VI.
+ CHAPTER VII.
+ CHAPTER VIII.
+ CHAPTER IX.
+ CHAPTER X.
+ CHAPTER XI.
+ CHAPTER XII.
+ CHAPTER XIII.
+ CHAPTER XIV.
+ CHAPTER XV.
+ CHAPTER XVI.
+ CHAPTER XVII.
+ CHAPTER XVIII.
+ CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years. At first
+it was suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England. Later it
+was forgotten. I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident being
+the relationship of my wife’s cousin to a certain Father Superior in a
+very ancient monastery in Europe.
+
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts
+and I came across this. It is very interesting—partially since it is a
+bit of hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that
+it records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous
+life of its innocent victim—Richard, the lost prince of England.
+
+In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. What
+interested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves—the
+visored horseman who—but let us wait until we get to him.
+
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening,
+it shook England from north to south and from east to west; and reached
+across the channel and shook France. It started, directly, in the
+London palace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the
+King and his powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester.
+
+Never mind the quarrel, that’s history, and you can read all about it
+at your leisure. But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243,
+Henry so forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of
+treason in the presence of a number of the King’s gentlemen.
+
+De Montfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew
+himself to his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of
+his wrath, as he did that day, he was very imposing. A power in
+England, second only to the King himself, and with the heart of a lion
+in him, he answered the King as no other man in all England would have
+dared answer him.
+
+“My Lord King,” he cried, “that you be my Lord King alone prevents
+Simon de Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult.
+That you take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never
+dare say were you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does
+brand you a coward.”
+
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers as
+these awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to his
+king. They were horrified, for De Montfort’s bold challenge was to them
+but little short of sacrilege.
+
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon De
+Montfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he
+thought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty
+sneer, turned to his courtiers.
+
+“Come, my gentlemen,” he said, “methought that we were to have a turn
+with the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, De Fulm!
+Come, Leybourn!” and the King left the apartment followed by his
+gentlemen, all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when
+it became apparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him.
+As the arras fell behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his
+broad shoulders, and turning, left the apartment by another door.
+
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still
+smarting from the humiliation of De Montfort’s reproaches, and as he
+laid aside his surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm,
+his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was
+advancing with the King’s foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for
+fencing with De Fulm, who, like the other sycophants that surrounded
+him, always allowed the King easily to best him in every encounter.
+
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit
+himself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry
+felt that he could best the devil himself.
+
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the
+guard room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that it had
+light from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled,
+leather-skinned Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to
+face him in mimic combat with the foils, for the King wished to go with
+hammer and tongs at someone to vent his suppressed rage.
+
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind’s eye the person of the hated De
+Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an
+early and mortifying defeat by the King’s sudden and clever attack.
+
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day he
+quite outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run the
+pseudo De Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his
+audience. For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac
+twice around the hall when, with a clever feint, and backward step, the
+master of fence drew the King into the position he wanted him, and with
+the suddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry’s
+weapon clanging across the floor of the armory.
+
+For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand of
+death had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers. The
+episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the best
+swordsman in England—for that surely was no disgrace—to Henry it seemed
+prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should stand face
+to face with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in De Vac only the
+creature of his imagination with which he had vested the likeness of
+his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like to have done
+to the real Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced close to De
+Vac.
+
+“Dog!” he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow across
+the face, and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode from
+the armory.
+
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he
+hated all things English and all Englishmen. The dead King John, though
+hated by all others, he had loved, but with the dead King’s bones De
+Vac’s loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral
+of Worcester.
+
+During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court,
+the sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only De
+Vac could teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in the
+discharge of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred and
+contempt for his pupils.
+
+And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might only
+be wiped out by blood.
+
+As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, and
+throwing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue
+before his master. White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he
+spoke no word.
+
+He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left to
+him no alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fight
+with a lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live—the king’s
+honor must be satisfied.
+
+Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and
+gloried in the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France;
+but an English King—pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De
+Vac would find other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would
+revel in revenge against this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If
+possible, he would harm the whole of England if he could, but he would
+bide his time. He could afford to wait for his opportunity if, by
+waiting, he could encompass a more terrible revenge.
+
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed the
+best swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footsteps
+of his father until, on the latter’s death, he could easily claim the
+title of his sire. How he had left France and entered the service of
+John of England is not of this story. All the bearing that the life of
+Jules de Vac has upon the history of England hinges upon but two of his
+many attributes—his wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for
+his adopted country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, on
+the third day following the King’s affront to De Vac, might have been
+seen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroidered
+with gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed
+sleeves, which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem
+of the garment. A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious
+stones, and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the
+garment about her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the
+girdle after the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger of
+beautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimple
+of violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head
+and shoulders.
+
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like his
+companion, in gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was rich
+with embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white silk.
+His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were
+cross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On the
+back of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which
+a single plume of white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the
+proud little head.
+
+The child’s features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave
+an expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have
+been too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with
+his companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity,
+which sat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times
+to turn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she
+could scarce repress.
+
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little
+bush near them, said, “Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I
+would play at toss.”
+
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place
+and turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played
+beneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the
+ball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he
+made a particularly good catch.
+
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a
+grim, gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn
+together in a malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern,
+cold line.
+
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely
+young woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac
+was working out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+
+For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for
+some means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry had
+put upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd and
+cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of the
+terrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded.
+
+His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled
+political conditions of Henry’s reign, for from these he felt he might
+wrest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses
+and to the harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King.
+
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory
+when the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac
+had heard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that
+could well be turned to the King’s harm by a shrewd and resourceful
+enemy.
+
+With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the
+terms of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with his
+kingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vac
+had gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: that
+Henry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries,
+and with Louis IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights and
+men-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons that he might
+effectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the
+royal prerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England.
+
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: the
+point of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first point
+of attack. Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in
+this venture so dear to his heart!
+
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their
+retainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King’s forces.
+
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he was
+beholden for his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons would
+depose Henry, and place a new king upon England’s throne, and then De
+Vac would mock the Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectable
+vengeance, indeed! And the old man licked his thin lips as though to
+taste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel.
+
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where
+the old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, De
+Vac’s eyes fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as the
+fog before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him the
+whole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ
+upon the leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him.
+And, in so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the
+details of that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the
+twenty years which followed.
+
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal
+father was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of
+England. No published history mentions this little lost prince; only
+the secret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his
+strange and adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the
+records of men; and the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of
+the world; though in his time it was a real and terrible thing in the
+hearts of the English.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in the
+gardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of his
+tiny life with his nurses and governesses.
+
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to
+repair to the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a
+little postern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to
+whom the Queen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
+
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and
+plans, unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the
+flowers and shrubbery of the garden.
+
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had
+managed to coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key
+to the little postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a
+midnight escapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the
+partner of his adventure, and, what was more to the point with Brus, at
+the same time slipping a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener’s
+palm.
+
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal
+retainer of the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac
+might be up to, Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was
+concerned, the key to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac’s hands as
+though Henry himself had it.
+
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence
+should, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more
+befitting the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern was
+it of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardens so
+that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shaded
+walks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants and
+blooming flowers which he set with such wondrous precision in the
+formal garden?
+
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this;
+and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take
+this means of rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as
+he to ignore the divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De
+Vac the key, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of
+his royal father’s garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it
+should have been.
+
+That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side of
+London; one who could not possibly know him or recognize the key as
+belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waiting
+impatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments
+of his time.
+
+From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanes
+and alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional
+smoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance
+from the palace.
+
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of
+the Thames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of
+the river rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far
+beneath the dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce
+dock rats and their fiercer human antitypes.
+
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search of
+the little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon
+it, and, after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was
+opened by a slatternly old hag.
+
+“What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?” she
+grumbled. “Ah, ’tis ye, my lord?” she added, hastily, as the flickering
+rays of the candle she bore lighted up De Vac’s face. “Welcome, my
+Lord, thrice welcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother.”
+
+“Silence, old hag,” cried De Vac. “Is it not enough that you leech me
+of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles
+of villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs
+burden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?
+
+“Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate to
+perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had
+delivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and
+cobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the
+dead Romans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too,
+from the stink, they must have been Roman swineherds who habited this
+sty with their herds, an’ I venture that thou, old sow, hast never
+touched broom to the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of
+thy kin.”
+
+“Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan,” cried the woman. “I would rather hear
+thy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted from
+thy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice
+as it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
+
+“The bundle is ready,” she continued, closing the door after De Vac,
+who had now entered, “and here be the key; but first let us have a
+payment. I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know
+from the secrecy which you have demanded, an’ I dare say there will be
+some who would pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and
+the child, thy sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so
+anxious to hide away in old Til’s garret. So it be well for you, my
+Lord, to pay old Til well and add a few guilders for the peace of her
+tongue if you would that your prisoner find peace in old Til’s house.”
+
+“Fetch me the bundle, hag,” replied De Vac, “and you shall have gold
+against a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goes
+well and thou holdest thy vile tongue.”
+
+But the old woman’s threats had already caused De Vac a feeling of
+uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in
+the old woman had she known the determination her words had caused in
+the mind of the old master of fence.
+
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure too
+fraught with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a
+disloyal fellow-conspirator. True, he had not even hinted at the
+enormity of the plot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as
+she had said, his stern commands for secrecy had told her enough to
+arouse her suspicions, and with them her curiosity and cupidity. So it
+was that old Til might well have quailed in her tattered sandals had
+she but even vaguely guessed the thoughts which passed in De Vac’s
+mind; but the extra gold pieces he dropped into her withered palm as
+she delivered the bundle to him, together with the promise of more,
+quite effectually won her loyalty and her silence for the time being.
+
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle
+with his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the
+alley and hastened toward the dock.
+
+Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlier
+in the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.
+Then, casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the
+palace walls, he moored near to the little postern gate which let into
+the lower end of the garden.
+
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to
+the water’s edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty
+of the aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern
+and, unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
+
+The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old man
+that he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had
+convinced him of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in
+one whose youth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the
+Thames might find lodgement for rheumatism.
+
+“Ha, Sir Jules,” laughed the old gardener, “Virtue and Vice be twin
+sisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.
+Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man
+desires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of his
+desire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires his
+own wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not
+that likewise virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtain
+our desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames’ fog,
+then it were virtue to remain at home.”
+
+“Right you sound, old mole,” said De Vac, smiling, “would that I might
+learn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me in
+good stead before I be much older.”
+
+“The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the
+sword, I should think,” said Brus, returning to his work.
+
+That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking out upon
+the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two
+hundred yards away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth,
+sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while here
+and there marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in
+the brilliant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, took on
+a semblance of life from the riotous play of light and shadow as the
+leaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in the
+distance, the river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, and
+the formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by a
+background of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees and
+flowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder.
+
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stone
+benches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swings
+suspended from the branches of fruit trees.
+
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and her
+little charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher in
+the window behind them.
+
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as
+Richard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the little
+postern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had
+been waiting without. Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm to
+the little bower which was their trysting place.
+
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince played
+happily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern,
+determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distance
+from the playing boy.
+
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly
+which fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in the
+bushes. Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in another
+moment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing the
+implacable master of fence.
+
+“Your Highness,” said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, “let old
+DeVac help you catch the pretty insect.”
+
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so together
+they started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed out of
+sight. De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate, but
+when he would have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latter
+rebelled.
+
+“Come, My Lord Prince,” urged De Vac, “methinks the butterfly did but
+alight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden in
+an instant.”
+
+“Go thyself and fetch it,” replied the Prince; “the King, my father,
+has forbid me stepping without the palace grounds.”
+
+“Come,” commanded De Vac, more sternly, “no harm can come to you.”
+
+But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac was
+forced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and
+alarm from the royal child.
+
+“Unhand me, sirrah,” screamed the boy. “How dare you lay hands on a
+prince of England?”
+
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child’s mouth to still his cries, but
+it was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an
+instant, they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing
+his sword as he ran.
+
+When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the
+outside, and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the
+gate. But, handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn
+the key before the officer threw himself against the panels and burst
+out before the master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
+
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly
+affrightened Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted
+the officer.
+
+There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac’s intentions
+were too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each
+other with grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman that
+France had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young
+prince.
+
+In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of
+chivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged through
+the heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped
+between Lady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the
+garden and give the alarm.
+
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing
+the lady in waiting, his back against the door.
+
+“Mon Dieu, Sir Jules,” she cried, “hast thou gone mad?”
+
+“No, My Lady,” he answered, “but I had not thought to do the work which
+now lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head
+and let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling?
+Your rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either
+you or I, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose
+thyself for death.”
+
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by
+the great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap
+still further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading and
+humiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King feared
+this mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follies
+which were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
+
+What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for
+Leicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there
+came an interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and
+courtier in a common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
+
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and
+Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming
+down her pale cheeks.
+
+“Oh, My Lord! My Lord!” she cried, “Richard, our son, has been
+assassinated and thrown into the Thames.”
+
+In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the
+greatest difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statement
+from his queen.
+
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with
+Prince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an
+immediate search had been instituted—a search which did not end for
+over twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the
+court to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the dead
+bodies of Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere
+was there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of
+England, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm.
+
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was
+that one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of
+the episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the
+King’s little son became apparent.
+
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in
+England, for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark
+which closely resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was
+found bearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search
+was carried into France, nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any
+time for more than twenty years.
+
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it was
+subjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassin
+could have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killed
+the Lady Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
+
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had
+always been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members of
+the King’s household.
+
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king was
+healed, and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority
+in Gascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his
+royal master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced,
+for, merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Too
+far he had gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady
+Maud alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the city of London
+would have been on his heels in ten minutes; there would have been no
+escape.
+
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and
+whimper in his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that a
+threat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led
+him to the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes.
+
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had first
+intended. Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle
+beneath the thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman,
+drawing a cotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his
+short hair. Concealing the child beneath the other articles of
+clothing, he pushed off from the bank, and, rowing close to the shore,
+hastened down the Thames toward the old dock where, the previous night,
+he had concealed his skiff. He reached his destination unnoticed, and,
+running in beneath the dock, worked the boat far into the dark recess
+of the cave-like retreat.
+
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew that
+the search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, and
+that none might traverse the streets of London without being subject to
+the closest scrutiny.
+
+Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince and
+clothed him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundle
+hidden beneath the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to
+match, a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap.
+
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn
+from the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned the
+bundle to the voiceless river.
+
+The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and,
+finding that De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow
+commenced questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this
+strange adventure getting the better of his former apprehension.
+
+“What do we here, Sir Jules?” he asked. “Take me back to the King’s, my
+father’s palace. I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments you
+have placed upon me.”
+
+“Silence, boy!” commanded the old man. “Sir Jules be dead, nor are you
+a king’s son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me
+hear you speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince.”
+
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor.
+Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry and
+frightened—just a poor little baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands
+of this cruel enemy—all his royalty as nothing, all gone with the
+silken finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames,
+and presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the
+skiff.
+
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to the side
+of the dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood
+listening, preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til’s
+place.
+
+As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive
+ears; louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that
+a number of men were approaching.
+
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath
+the dock. Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights and
+men-at-arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the
+dark alley. Here they stopped as though for consultation and plainly
+could the listener below hear every word of their conversation.
+
+“De Montfort,” said one, “what thinkest thou of it? Can it be that the
+Queen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters?”
+
+“No, De Clare,” replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as that
+of the Earl of Leicester. “The hand that could steal the Prince from
+out of the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud
+or her companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more
+easily and safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been
+the object of this strange attack. I think, My Lord, that presently we
+shall hear from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince for
+ransom. God give that such may be the case, for of all the winsome and
+affectionate little fellows I have ever seen, not even excepting mine
+own dear son, the little Richard was the most to be beloved. Would that
+I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done this horrid
+deed.”
+
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the
+object of his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and
+the voices above him had awakened the little Prince and, with a
+startled cry, he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De
+Vac’s iron hand clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single
+faint wail had reached the ears of the men above.
+
+“Hark! What was that, My Lord?” cried one of the men-at-arms.
+
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then
+De Montfort cried out:
+
+“What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the name
+of the King!”
+
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free
+himself, but De Vac’s ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the
+babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening
+for a repetition of the sound.
+
+“Dock rats,” said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided them to
+protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose
+boards, and ran squealing up the dark alley.
+
+“Right you are,” said De Montfort, “but I could have sworn ’twas a
+child’s feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine own
+eyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no success
+here, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious to
+bargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to
+give us.”
+
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of the
+listeners beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance.
+
+“A close shave,” thought De Vac, as he again took up the child and
+prepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him,
+he soon reached the door to Til’s house and, inserting the key, crept
+noiselessly to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored
+hostess.
+
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, this
+ascent being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up
+after him, closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbed
+with his burden, by means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars.
+
+The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east
+end of the building, and had windows upon three sides. These were
+heavily curtained. The apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging
+from a rafter near the center of the room.
+
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing
+a most barnlike and unhospitable appearance.
+
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; a
+cupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings. These
+articles De Vac had purchased for the room against the time when he
+should occupy it with his little prisoner.
+
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing
+honey, a pitcher of milk and two drinking horns. To these, De Vac
+immediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of what
+he wished.
+
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince’s fears, and he set to
+with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse by the
+rude utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal
+magnificence of his palace apartments.
+
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the building
+in search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. The
+words of De Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced him
+that here was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge which
+must be removed as had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was
+neither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, or
+to cause the grim executioner a pang of remorse.
+
+When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the
+street, in fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building.
+Still clad as he was in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til did
+not, at first, recognize him, and when he spoke, she burst into a
+nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in the perpetration of some
+questionable act, nor did her manner escape the shrewd notice of the
+wily master of fence.
+
+“Whither, old hag?” he asked.
+
+“To visit Mag Tunk at the alley’s end, by the river, My Lord,” she
+replied, with more respect than she had been wont to accord him.
+
+“Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you
+can give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I
+have moored there.”
+
+And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the
+rickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the King
+would lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could
+give; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long
+dagger which nestled there.
+
+As they reached the water’s edge, De Vac was walking with his right
+shoulder behind his companion’s left, in his hand was gripped the keen
+blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just
+below her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at the
+same instant that De Vac’s left hand swung up and grasped her throat in
+a grip of steel.
+
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening
+old muscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward
+into the Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope
+that Prince Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent
+old woman lived in the heart of London within a stone’s throw of the
+King’s palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of
+an old building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad
+alone, nor by day. And upon his left breast was a strange mark which
+resembled a lily. When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room,
+with bolted door behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and discard
+her dingy mantle for more comfortable and becoming doublet and hose.
+
+For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy’s education.
+There were three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and
+hatred of all things English, especially the reigning house of England.
+
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the
+little boy the art of fence when he was but three years old.
+
+“You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty,
+my son,” she was wont to say, “and then you shall go out and kill many
+Englishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth
+of England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck,
+aha, then will I speak. Then shall they know.”
+
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he was
+comfortable, and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and
+that he would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real
+sword, and had grown large enough to wield one. He also knew that he
+hated Englishmen, but why, he did not know.
+
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, he
+seemed to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very
+different; when, instead of this old woman, there had been many people
+around him, and a sweet faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed
+him, before he was taken off to bed at night; but he could not be sure,
+maybe it was only a dream he remembered, for he dreamed many strange
+and wonderful dreams.
+
+When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came to
+their attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk of
+the evening but the old woman did not light the cresset, and further,
+she whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far
+corner of the bare chamber.
+
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost
+his entire face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bit of
+wrinkled forehead. When he spoke, he accompanied his words with many
+shrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and other
+strange and amusing gesticulations. The child was fascinated. Here was
+the first amusement of his little starved life. He listened intently to
+the conversation, which was in French.
+
+“I have just the thing for madame,” the stranger was saying. “It be a
+noble and stately hall far from the beaten way. It was built in the old
+days by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants. A few years
+since, Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri de
+Macy, who pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay.
+Today it be my property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it
+for the mere song I have named. It be a wondrous bargain, madame.”
+
+“And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumbling
+pile of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes,” replied the
+old woman peevishly.
+
+“One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one wing
+hath sagged and tumbled in,” explained the old Frenchman. “But the
+three lower stories be intact and quite habitable. It be much grander
+even now than the castles of many of England’s noble barons, and the
+price, madame—ah, the price be so ridiculously low.”
+
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+
+“Come,” said the Frenchman, “I have it. Deposit the money with Isaac
+the Jew—thou knowest him?—and he shall hold it together with the deed
+for forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby and
+inspect thy purchase. If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the Jew
+shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the end of
+forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaac
+send the deed to thee and the money to me. Be not this an easy and fair
+way out of the difficulty?”
+
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that it
+seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter. And thus it was
+accomplished.
+
+Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her.
+
+“We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home. Thy face shall
+be wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache. Dost
+understand?”
+
+“But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I—”
+expostulated the child.
+
+“Tut, tut,” interrupted the little old woman. “Thou hast a toothache,
+and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags. And listen, should any
+ask thee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that
+thou hast a toothache. And thou do not do as I say, the King’s men will
+take us and we shall be hanged, for the King hateth us. If thou hatest
+the English King and lovest thy life do as I command.”
+
+“I hate the King,” replied the little boy. “For this reason I shall do
+as thou sayest.”
+
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north
+toward the hills of Derby. For many days they travelled, riding upon
+two small donkeys. Strange sights filled the days for the little boy
+who remembered nothing outside the bare attic of his London home and
+the dirty London alleys that he had traversed only by night.
+
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark,
+forbidding forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of
+thatched huts. Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway,
+alone or in small parties, but the child’s companion always managed to
+hasten into cover at the road side until the grim riders had passed.
+
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade
+across which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade
+from either side. For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in
+silence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black
+charger, cried out something to the other which the boy could not
+catch. The other knight made no response other than to rest his lance
+upon his thigh and with lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary.
+For a dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another,
+but presently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the two
+iron men on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of
+the glade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
+
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his
+foeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon
+the gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway.
+The momentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen
+horseman before his rider could rein him in, then the black knight
+turned to view the havoc he had wrought. The gray horse was just
+staggering dizzily to his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and
+still where he had fallen.
+
+With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his
+vanquished foe. There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned
+toward the prostrate form. He spoke tauntingly, but there was no
+response, then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.
+Even this elicited no movement. With a shrug of his iron clad
+shoulders, the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he
+had disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encircling
+forest.
+
+The little boy was spell-bound. Naught like this had he ever seen or
+dreamed.
+
+“Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son,” said the little old
+woman.
+
+“Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?” he
+asked.
+
+“Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance
+and mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and
+death, for every man shalt be thy enemy. But come, we must be on our
+way.”
+
+They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always
+in his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for
+the day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black
+knight.
+
+On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the
+notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their
+wares, they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter
+of some bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the
+surprised and defenseless tradesmen.
+
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with
+bludgeons and daggers, with here and there a cross-bow. Without mercy
+they attacked the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood
+even when they offered no resistance. Those of the caravan who could,
+escaped, the balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, as
+they hurried away with their loot.
+
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little
+old woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips. She
+noted his expression of dismay.
+
+“It is naught, my son. But English curs setting upon English swine.
+Some day thou shalt set upon both—they be only fit for killing.”
+
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which he
+had seen. Knights were cruel to knights—the poor were cruel to the
+rich—and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind
+that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor. He had seen
+them in all their sorrow and misery and poverty—stretching a long,
+scattering line all the way from London town. Their bent backs, their
+poor thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the
+weary wretchedness of their existence.
+
+“Be no one happy in all the world?” he once broke out to the old woman.
+
+“Only he who wields the mightiest sword,” responded the old woman. “You
+have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts. They set upon and
+kill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all.
+When thou shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for
+unless thou kill them, they will kill thee.”
+
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little
+hamlet in the hills. Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great
+horse purchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and
+uninviting country away from the beaten track, until late one evening
+they approached a ruined castle.
+
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and
+where a portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining
+through the narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the
+likeness of a huge, many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a
+deserted world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation.
+
+Before this somber pile, the two dismounted. The little boy was filled
+with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the
+crumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them. From the dark
+shadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court. At
+the far end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with
+decaying planks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure
+of oats upon the floor for him from a bag which had hung across his
+rump.
+
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting
+their advance with a flickering pine knot. The old planking of the
+floors, long unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach. There
+was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed
+by in a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night.
+
+Presently they came to the great hall. The old woman pushed open the
+great doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty,
+cavernous interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch. As they
+stepped cautiously within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurts
+from the long-rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet. A huge
+bat circled wildly with loud fluttering wings in evident remonstrance
+at this rude intrusion. Strange creatures of the night scurried or
+wriggled across wall and floor.
+
+But the child was unafraid. Fear had not been a part of the old woman’s
+curriculum. The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor was he
+ever in his after-life to experience the sensation. With childish
+eagerness, he followed his companion as she inspected the interior of
+the chamber. It was still an imposing room. The boy clapped his hands
+in delight at the beauties of the carved and panelled walls and the oak
+beamed ceiling, stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oil
+cressets that had lighted it in bygone days, aided, no doubt, by the
+wood fires which had burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the
+merry throng of noble revellers that had so often sat about the great
+table into the morning hours.
+
+Here they took up their abode. But the bent, old woman was no longer an
+old woman—she had become a straight, wiry, active old man.
+
+The little boy’s education went on—French, swordsmanship and hatred of
+the English—the same thing year after year with the addition of
+horsemanship after he was ten years old. At this time the old man
+commenced teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and very
+marked French accent. During all his life now, he could not remember of
+having spoken to any living being other than his guardian, whom he had
+been taught to address as father. Nor did the boy have any name—he was
+just “my son.”
+
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exacting
+duties of his education that he had little time to think of the strange
+loneliness of his existence; nor is it probable that he missed that
+companionship of others of his own age of which, never having had
+experience in it, he could scarce be expected to regret or yearn for.
+
+At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and
+with an utter contempt for pain or danger—a contempt which was the
+result of the heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the
+training of him. Often the two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and
+without armor or other protection of any description.
+
+“Thus only,” the old man was wont to say, “mayst thou become the
+absolute master of thy blade. Of such a nicety must be thy handling of
+the weapon that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly,
+shouldst thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of a
+master hand, mayst be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch.”
+
+But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of
+them would nurse a punctured skin for a few days. So, while blood was
+often let on both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who
+was so truly the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within
+a fraction of an inch of the spot he sought.
+
+At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad. Bronzed
+and hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none that
+he might talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for
+that he was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking French
+fluently and English poorly—and waiting impatiently for the day when
+the old man should send him out into the world with clanking armor and
+lance and shield to do battle with the knights of England.
+
+It was about this time that there occurred the first important break in
+the monotony of his existence. Far down the rocky trail that led from
+the valley below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three
+armored knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill
+autumn day. Off the main road and far from any habitation, they had
+espied the castle’s towers through a rift in the hills, and now they
+spurred toward it in search of food and shelter.
+
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenly
+emerged upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes
+which caused them to draw rein and watch in admiration. There, before
+them upon the downs, a boy battled with a lunging, rearing horse—a
+perfect demon of a black horse. Striking and biting in a frenzy of
+rage, it sought ever to escape or injure the lithe figure which clung
+leech-like to its shoulder.
+
+The boy was on the ground. His left hand grasped the heavy mane; his
+right arm lay across the beast’s withers and his right hand drew
+steadily in upon a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch
+about the horse’s muzzle. Now the black reared and wheeled, striking
+and biting, full upon the youth, but the active figure swung with
+him—always just behind the giant shoulder—and ever and ever he drew the
+great arched neck farther and farther to the right.
+
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged the
+boy with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the
+grip upon mane and withers. Suddenly, he reared straight into the air
+carrying the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himself
+backward upon the ground.
+
+“It’s death!” exclaimed one of the knights, “he will kill the youth
+yet, Beauchamp.”
+
+“No!” cried he addressed. “Look! He is up again and the boy still
+clings as tightly to him as his own black hide.”
+
+“’Tis true,” exclaimed another, “but he hath lost what he had gained
+upon the halter—he must needs fight it all out again from the
+beginning.”
+
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing the
+iron neck slowly to the right—the beast fighting and squealing as
+though possessed of a thousand devils. A dozen times, as the head bent
+farther and farther toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the mane
+and reached quickly down to grasp the near fore pastern. A dozen times
+the horse shook off the new hold, but at length the boy was successful,
+and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow.
+
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feet
+and his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position. His
+efforts became weaker and weaker. The boy talked incessantly to him in
+a quiet voice, and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. Now he
+bore heavily upon the black withers, pulling the horse toward him.
+Slowly the beast sank upon his bent knee—pulling backward until his off
+fore leg was stretched straight before him. Then, with a final surge,
+the youth pulled him over upon his side, and, as he fell, slipped prone
+beside him. One sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the black
+chin—the other grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, but
+with his head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of
+the boy as a baby would have been. Then he sank panting and exhausted
+into mute surrender.
+
+“Well done!” cried one of the knights. “Simon de Montfort himself never
+mastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?”
+
+In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the
+speaker. The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood—the
+handsome boy and the beautiful black—gazing with startled eyes, like
+two wild things, at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+
+“Come, Sir Mortimer!” cried the boy, and turning he led the prancing
+but subdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican
+into the court beyond.
+
+“What ho, there, lad!” shouted Paul of Merely. “We would not harm
+thee—come, we but ask the way to the castle of De Stutevill.”
+
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+
+“Come, Sir Knights,” spoke Paul of Merely, “we will ride within and
+learn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery.”
+
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruined
+grandeur, they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in no
+gentle tones what they would of them there.
+
+“We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old man,”
+replied Paul of Merely. “We seek the castle of Sir John de Stutevill.”
+
+“Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to the
+right, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ride
+north beside the river—thou canst not miss the way—it be plain as the
+nose before thy face,” and with that the old man turned to enter the
+castle.
+
+“Hold, old fellow!” cried the spokesman. “It be nigh onto sunset now,
+and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last. We
+will tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journey
+refreshed, upon rested steeds.”
+
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in
+to feed and house them over night. But there was nothing else for it,
+since they would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to
+give it voluntarily.
+
+From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outside
+their Derby hills. The old man showed less interest than he felt, but
+to the boy, notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to
+him, it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of
+earl and baron, bishop and king.
+
+“If the King does not mend his ways,” said one of the knights, “we will
+drive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the sea.”
+
+“De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all of
+us, both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formed
+a pact for our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that the
+time for temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil war
+upon his hands, he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead
+of breaking them the moment De Montfort’s back be turned.”
+
+“He fears his brother-in-law,” interrupted another of the knights,
+“even more than the devil fears holy water. I was in attendance on his
+majesty some weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the
+royal barge. We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have
+ever seen, of which the King was in such abject fear that he commanded
+that we land at the Bishop of Durham’s palace opposite which we then
+were. De Montfort, who was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all
+due respect, observing, ‘What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has
+passed?’ And what thinkest thou old ‘waxen heart’ replied? Why, still
+trembling, he said, ‘I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but,
+by the hand of God, I tremble before you more than for all the thunder
+in Heaven!’”
+
+“I surmise,” interjected the grim, old man, “that De Montfort has in
+some manner gained an ascendancy over the King. Think you he looks so
+high as the throne itself?”
+
+“Not so,” cried the oldest of the knights. “Simon de Montfort works for
+England’s weal alone—and methinks, nay know, that he would be first to
+spring to arms to save the throne for Henry. He but fights the King’s
+rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to defy the
+King himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter
+collapse. But, gad, how the King hates him. For a time it seemed that
+there might be a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the
+disappearance of the little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of
+his time and private fortune to prosecuting a search through all the
+world for the little fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond. This
+self-sacrificing interest on his part won over the King and Queen for
+many years, but of late his unremitting hostility to their continued
+extravagant waste of the national resources has again hardened them
+toward him.”
+
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened,
+sent the youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left to
+prepare supper.
+
+As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the
+boy intently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome
+face, clear, intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a
+mass of brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his
+ears, where it was again cut square at the sides and back, after the
+fashion of the times.
+
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red,
+over which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was also
+of leather, a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin. His
+long hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer of
+skin, were of the same red wool as his tunic, while his strong leather
+sandals were cross-gartered halfway to his knees with narrow bands of
+leather.
+
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a
+round skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon’s
+wing, completed his picturesque and becoming costume.
+
+“Your son?” he asked, turning to the old man.
+
+“Yes,” was the growling response.
+
+“He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French
+accent.
+
+“’S blood, Beauchamp,” he continued, turning to one of his companions,
+“an’ were he set down in court, I wager our gracious Queen would he
+hard put to it to tell him from the young Prince Edward. Dids’t ever
+see so strange a likeness?”
+
+“Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed a
+marvel,” answered Beauchamp.
+
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would have
+seen a blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage.
+
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a
+grave quiet tone.
+
+“And how old might you be, my son?” he asked the boy.
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“And your name?”
+
+“I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son
+and no other ever before addressed me.”
+
+At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he would
+fetch more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he had
+passed the doorway and listened from without.
+
+“The lad appears about fifteen,” said Paul of Merely, lowering his
+voice, “and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives.
+This one does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like
+Prince Edward to be his twin.”
+
+“Come, my son,” he continued aloud, “open your jerkin and let us have a
+look at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there.”
+
+“Are you Englishmen?” asked the boy without making a move to comply
+with their demand.
+
+“That we be, my son,” said Beauchamp.
+
+“Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all
+Englishmen are pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France.
+I do not uncover my body to the eyes of swine.”
+
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally
+burst into uproarious laughter.
+
+“Indeed,” cried Paul of Merely, “spoken as one of the King’s foreign
+favorites might speak, and they ever told the good God’s truth. But
+come lad, we would not harm you—do as I bid.”
+
+“No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side,” answered
+the boy, “and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man other
+than my father.”
+
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul of
+Merely, but the latter’s face hardened in anger, and without further
+words he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy’s
+leathern jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick
+sharp, “En garde!” from the boy.
+
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, in
+self-defense, for the sharp point of the boy’s sword was flashing in
+and out against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs,
+and the boy’s tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as it
+invited him to draw and defend himself or be stuck “like the English
+pig you are.”
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing
+against this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm him
+without harming the lad, and he certainly did not care to be further
+humiliated before his comrades.
+
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he
+discovered that, far from disarming him, he would have the devil’s own
+job of it to keep from being killed.
+
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and
+dexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room,
+great beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he
+realized that he was fighting for his life against a superior
+swordsman.
+
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grim
+smiles, and presently they looked on with startled faces in which fear
+and apprehension were dominant.
+
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse. No sign of
+exertion was apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder than
+words that he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paul
+of Merely always retreating. The din of their clashing swords and the
+heavy breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as they
+brushed against a bench or a table.
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of
+dying uselessly at the hands of a mere boy. He would not call upon his
+friends for aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between
+them with drawn sword, crying “Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have no
+quarrel. Sheathe your swords.”
+
+But the boy’s only response was, “En garde, cochon,” and Beauchamp
+found himself taking the center of the stage in the place of his
+friend. Nor did the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both
+in swordplay that caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their
+sockets.
+
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of
+gleaming light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile
+had frozen upon his lips—grim and stern.
+
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places when
+Greystoke rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry,
+gray man leaped agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword
+took his place beside the boy. It was now two against three and the
+three may have guessed, though they never knew, that they were pitted
+against the two greatest swordsmen in the world.
+
+“To the death,” cried the little gray man, “à mort, mon fils.” Scarcely
+had the words left his lips ere, as though it had but waited
+permission, the boy’s sword flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely,
+and a Saxon gentleman was gathered to his fathers.
+
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undivided
+attention to Beauchamp. Both these men were considered excellent
+swordsmen, but when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man’s “à
+mort, mon fils,” he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his
+neck rose up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the
+sentence of death passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who
+could vanquish such a swordsman as he who now faced him.
+
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man
+led Greystoke to where the boy awaited him.
+
+“They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of
+revenge; à mort, mon fils.”
+
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the lad
+as a great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back not an
+inch and, when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steel
+protruding from his back.
+
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the
+back of the ruined castle. First they had stripped them and, when they
+took account of the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richer
+by three horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold and silver
+money, ornaments and jewels, as well as the lances, swords and chain
+mail armor of their erstwhile guests.
+
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that the
+knowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and Prince
+Edward of England had come to him in time to prevent the undoing of his
+life’s work.
+
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the old man
+had little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to him,
+obliterating the devices so that none might guess to whom it had
+belonged. This he did, and from then on the boy never rode abroad
+except in armor, and when he met others upon the high road, his visor
+was always lowered that none might see his face.
+
+The day following the episode of the three knights the old man called
+the boy to him, saying,
+
+“It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions as
+were put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry. Thou art fifteen years
+of age, and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle
+of Torn, thou mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou
+art Norman of Torn; that thou be a French gentleman whose father
+purchased Torn and brought thee hither from France on the death of thy
+mother, when thou wert six years old.
+
+“But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman
+is the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit.”
+
+And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short years
+was to strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in
+the vicinity of Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in
+the handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a period
+was allotted to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned
+sixteen, even the old man himself was as but a novice by comparison
+with the marvelous skill of his pupil.
+
+During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions
+until he knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn.
+Sometimes the old man accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+
+On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small
+hamlet not far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determined
+to enter and have speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural
+desire for companionship was commencing to assert itself. In all his
+life, he remembered only the company of the old man, who never spoke
+except when necessity required.
+
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushed
+in, without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up with
+an expression of annoyance and disapproval.
+
+“What now,” he said, “have the King’s men respect neither for piety nor
+age that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so much
+as a ‘by your leave’?”
+
+“I am no king’s man,” replied the boy quietly. “I am Norman of Torn,
+who has neither a king nor a god, and who says ‘by your leave’ to no
+man. But I have come in peace because I wish to talk to another than my
+father. Therefore you may talk to me, priest,” he concluded with
+haughty peremptoriness.
+
+“By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me
+with his commands,” laughed the priest. “Raise your visor, My Lord, I
+would fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands of
+royalty.”
+
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round
+jovial face. There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort,
+and so, smiling, the boy raised his visor.
+
+“By the ear of Gabriel,” cried the good father, “a child in armor!”
+
+“A child in years, mayhap,” replied the boy, “but a good child to own
+as a friend, if one has enemies who wear swords.”
+
+“Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have few
+enemies, no man has too many friends, and I like your face and your
+manner, though there be much to wish for in your manners. Sit down and
+eat with me, and I will talk to your heart’s content, for be there one
+other thing I more love than eating, it is talking.”
+
+With the priest’s aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavy
+and uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that was
+already partially on the board.
+
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good
+priest. Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend,
+Father Claude. It was he who taught the boy to read and write in
+French, English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could
+sign their own names.
+
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher
+classes of society, and all public documents were inscribed either in
+French or Latin, although about this time the first proclamation
+written in the English tongue was issued by an English king to his
+subjects.
+
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to
+espouse the cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe
+that the principal reason for man’s existence was to protect woman. All
+of virtue and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had
+neglected to inculcate in the boy’s mind, the good priest planted
+there, but he could not eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the
+English or his belief that the real test of manhood lay in a desire to
+fight to the death with a sword.
+
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy’s earlier visits to
+his new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could
+bring to bear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very
+belief of the boy’s, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good
+father owed a great deal, possibly his life.
+
+As they were seated in the priest’s hut one afternoon, a rough knock
+fell upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as
+disreputable a band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man. Six
+of them there were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords and
+daggers at their sides.
+
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair
+and a red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard.
+Behind him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache;
+while the third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and
+forehead and from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye, for
+that socket was empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered the
+inflamed red of the hollow where his eye had been.
+
+“A ha, my hearties,” roared the leader, turning to his motley crew,
+“fine pickings here indeed. A swine of God fattened upon the sweat of
+such poor, honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks,
+must have pieces of gold in his belt.
+
+“Say your prayers, my pigeons,” he continued, with a vile oath, “for
+The Black Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a
+halter later, and dead men talk the least.”
+
+“If it be The Black Wolf,” whispered Father Claude to the boy, “no
+worse fate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and when
+drunk, as he now is, he murders his victims. I will throw myself before
+them while you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make
+good your escape.” He spoke in French, and held his hands in the
+attitude of prayer, so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who
+had no idea that he was communicating with the boy.
+
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of the
+old priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:
+
+“The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he
+runs out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at
+the front door.”
+
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+
+“I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friend
+here, nor neither do I care. It is sufficient that he is the friend of
+Norman of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to
+acknowledge the debt of friendship. Have at you, sir knights of the
+great filth and the mighty stink!” and with drawn sword he vaulted over
+the table and fell upon the surprised leader.
+
+In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercely
+did his blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment,
+The Black Wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, was
+badly, though not fatally wounded. The four remaining ruffians backed
+quickly from the hut, and a more cautious fighter would have let them
+go their way in peace, for in the open, four against one are odds no
+man may pit himself against with impunity. But Norman of Torn saw red
+when he fought and the red lured him ever on into the thickest of the
+fray. Only once before had he fought to the death, but that once had
+taught him the love of it, and ever after until his death, it marked
+his manner of fighting; so that men who loathed and hated and feared
+him were as one with those who loved him in acknowledging that never
+before had God joined in the human frame absolute supremacy with the
+sword and such utter fearlessness.
+
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, he
+rushed out after the four knaves. Once in the open, they turned upon
+him, but he sprang into their midst with his seething blade, and it was
+as though they faced four men rather than one, so quickly did he parry
+a thrust here and return a cut there. In a moment one was disarmed,
+another down, and the remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the
+high road with Norman of Torn close at their heels.
+
+Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running as
+well as in swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both had
+thrown away their swords and were on their knees pleading for their
+lives.
+
+“Come back to the good priest’s hut, and we shall see what he may say,”
+replied Norman of Torn.
+
+On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending over
+his wounded comrade. They were brothers, named Flory, and one would not
+desert the other. It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger,
+so Norman of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut, where
+they found Red Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the good
+father poured the contents of a flagon down his eager throat.
+
+The villain’s eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four
+comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room.
+
+“The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory,
+One Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!” he ejaculated.
+
+“Man or devil! By the Pope’s hind leg, who and what be ye?” he said,
+turning to Norman of Torn.
+
+“I be your master and ye be my men,” said Norman of Torn. “Me ye shall
+serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but with
+fighting a-plenty and good reward.”
+
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon the
+clergy had given rise to an idea in the boy’s mind, which had been
+revolving in a nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his
+subconsciousness since his vanquishing of the three knights had brought
+him, so easily, such riches in the form of horses, arms, armor and
+gold. As was always his wont in his after life, to think was to act.
+
+“With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with red
+hot tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of a
+chief,” spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, “for verily any man, be
+he but a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command
+us.”
+
+“But what be the duties?” said he whom they called Peter the Hermit.
+
+“To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and
+the weak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon
+rich Englishmen and harass the King of England.”
+
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the
+ruffians so strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even
+daily mass, and a bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the
+service of Norman of Torn.
+
+“Aye, aye!” they cried. “We be your men, indeed.”
+
+“Wait,” said Norman of Torn, “there is more. You are to obey my every
+command on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are to
+be mine. On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with
+mounts and armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for
+and with you with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector.
+Are you satisfied?”
+
+“That we are,” and “Long live Norman of Torn,” and “Here’s to the chief
+of the Torns” signified the ready assent of the burly cut-throats.
+
+“Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token,” pursued
+Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest’s table.
+
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few
+years to number a thousand men, and which defied a king’s army and
+helped to make Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+
+Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon
+neighboring barons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be
+caught in the open by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of
+Torn with many pieces of gold and silver, and placed a price upon his
+head ere he had scarce turned eighteen.
+
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts,
+he grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger’s point upon the foreheads
+of those who fell before his own sword the initials NT.
+
+As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grim
+Castle of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnished
+the moat with water in bygone days.
+
+Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed his
+activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly and
+oppressed. The money he took from the King’s tax gatherers, he returned
+to the miserable peasants of the district, and once when Henry III sent
+a little expedition against him, he surrounded and captured the entire
+force, and, stripping them, gave their clothing to the poor, and
+escorted them, naked, back to the very gates of London.
+
+By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself had
+dubbed him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though no
+man had seen his face and lived other than his friends and followers.
+He had become a power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel
+between King Henry and his foreign favorites on one side, and the Saxon
+and Norman barons on the other.
+
+Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman of
+Torn had preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent. Personally,
+he had decided to join neither party, but to take advantage of the
+turmoil of the times to prey without partiality upon both.
+
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy,
+ragged cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the old
+man of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small
+towers of the barbican.
+
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung
+at his side in mimicry of the custom of the times.
+
+“What ho, without there!” challenged the old man entering grimly into
+the spirit of the play.
+
+“’Tis Sir Norman of Torn,” spoke up Red Shandy, “with his great host of
+noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and sumpter
+beasts. Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn.”
+
+“What means this, my son?” said the old man as Norman of Torn
+dismounted within the ballium.
+
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, “These,
+then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon the
+highways and into the byways of England, to collect from the rich
+English pigs that living which you have ever taught me was owing us.”
+
+“’Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together we
+shall ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way.
+
+“From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow
+in the land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and
+shall hate and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe
+him.
+
+“All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall
+never dry upon your blade.”
+
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after
+this outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin,
+said:
+
+“By the Pope’s hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English.
+There should be great riding after such as he.”
+
+“Ye ride after ME, varlet,” cried Norman of Torn, “an’ lest ye should
+forget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a reminder,” and
+he struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist—so
+that the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a towering
+rage. As he rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter made
+no move to draw; he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with
+cold, level gaze; his head held high, haughty face marked by an
+arrogant sneer of contempt.
+
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smile
+overspread his countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand
+of Norman of Torn and kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight
+might have kissed his king’s hand in proof of his love and fealty.
+There was a certain rude, though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it
+marked not only the beginning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the
+part of Shandy toward his young master, but was prophetic of the
+attitude which Norman of Torn was to inspire in all the men who served
+him during the long years that saw thousands pass the barbicans of Torn
+to crave a position beneath his grim banner.
+
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One Eye
+Kanty, and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed
+his hand. From the Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man
+had watched this scene, a slight smile upon his old, malicious face.
+
+“’Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams,” he muttered. “’S death, but
+he be more a king than Henry himself. God speed the day of his
+coronation, when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a
+black cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet
+the platform of a wooden gibbet for a throne.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rode
+alone down the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which
+he had replaced the hut of his old friend, Father Claude.
+
+As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his
+person or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank
+or house. More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he
+was without rank or other title than that of outlaw and he seemed to
+assume what in reality he held in little esteem.
+
+He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and not
+because he craved the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause,
+he rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon
+the old man to explain the reason which necessitated this precaution.
+
+“It is enough that I tell you, my son,” the old fellow was wont to say,
+“that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face to
+your enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I
+hope, when you shall uncover your countenance to all England.”
+
+The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it
+off as the foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it
+nevertheless.
+
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a very
+different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before,
+when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of
+the night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman,
+whose metamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their
+advent to the castle had marked.
+
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than
+ever in the most resplendent days of its past grandeur. The original
+keep was there with its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty
+fifteen foot walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted chambers,
+lighted by embrasures which, mere slits in the outer periphery of the
+walls, spread to larger dimensions within, some even attaining the area
+of small triangular chambers.
+
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the
+castle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at
+intervals with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire
+from long bows, cross bows and javelins might be directed against a
+scaling party.
+
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice,
+which natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
+
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran
+the tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the
+valley below. The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and
+rugged beauty. A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only
+sparsely studded with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed
+view of broad and lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling
+tributary of the Trent.
+
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the north
+wall and one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified with
+towered and buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main
+gates could be reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner
+gates were similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which,
+spanning the moat when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of an
+enemy, effectually stopping his advance.
+
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the
+direction of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called
+father, were of the Norman type of architecture, the windows were
+larger, the carving more elaborate, the rooms lighter and more
+spacious.
+
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten
+hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires,
+lackeys, cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and
+the like to care for the wants of his little army.
+
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were
+quartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive with
+cows, oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors to
+the grim pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the
+neighboring farm lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of
+Torn paid good gold for their crops.
+
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons who
+owned the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or
+give a pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of
+death, but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly and
+always returned full laden, and though the husbandmen told sad tales to
+their overlords of the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he
+seized upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their cheeks as
+they spoke and the Devil’s gold in their pockets.
+
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants’
+love for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, their
+stock, their crops, their wives and daughters were safe from
+molestation even though the neighboring castle of their lord might be
+sacked from the wine cellar to the ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor
+did anyone dare ride rough shod over the territory which Norman of Torn
+patrolled. A dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Derby
+hills, and though the barons would much rather have had all the rest
+than he, the peasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the lowborn
+murderers who had been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose
+account the women of the huts and cottages had never been safe.
+
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but
+they loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him
+to their ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and the
+meadow and the chase, for though they were confessed Christians, still
+in the hearts of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions of
+their ancestors; and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to
+Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the safe side with the
+others, in case they did happen to exist.
+
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, they
+were; accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader and
+then another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of
+their feudal lords and their rapacious monarchs.
+
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for
+since their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors,
+to England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them from
+oppression.
+
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and
+the grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter
+was for carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young
+man would neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to
+molest the lowly. A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wild
+horde than a stout lance or an emblazoned shield.
+
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father
+Claude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from
+the copper boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen
+kneeling uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkable
+after all.
+
+Entering the priest’s study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay
+back moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong,
+lithe legs stretched out before him.
+
+“What ails you, my son?” asked the priest, “that you look so
+disconsolate on this beautiful day?”
+
+“I do not know, Father,” replied Norman of Torn, “unless it be that I
+am asking myself the question, ‘What it is all for?’ Why did my father
+train me ever to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there is
+plenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolen
+wealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it?
+Should I stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there,
+held by a hempen necklace.
+
+“What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry? They have quarrel
+enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should
+have hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they
+really are. So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an old
+man’s spite, not even knowing the grievance to the avenging of which my
+life has been dedicated by another.
+
+“And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the
+nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and
+never in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt
+a caress, even as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?”
+
+“I have thought much of it, my son,” answered the priest. “It has ever
+been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held
+for years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder
+to speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman of
+Torn, if you are not the son of the old man you call father, may God
+forfend that England ever guesses your true parentage. More than this,
+I dare not say except that, as you value your peace of mind and your
+life, keep your visor down and keep out of the clutches of your
+enemies.”
+
+“Then you know why I should keep my visor down?”
+
+“I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you
+resemble.”
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the sound
+of horses’ hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an
+instant, both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the
+highroad, five knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with
+a party of ten or a dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching
+breathless on her palfry, a young woman sat a little apart from the
+contestants.
+
+Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rode
+to her side with some word of command, at the same time grasping
+roughly at her bridle rein. The girl raised her riding whip and struck
+repeatedly but futilely against the iron headgear of her assailant
+while he swung his horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after
+him, galloped rapidly out of sight.
+
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored
+condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer’s back and spurred swiftly in the
+direction taken by the girl and her abductor.
+
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor
+of his rider, soon brought the fugitives to view. Scarce a mile had
+been covered ere the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face
+of Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
+
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knight
+reined in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, “Mon Dieu, Edward!”
+
+“Draw and defend yourself,” cried Norman of Torn.
+
+“But, Your Highness,” stammered the knight.
+
+“Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs,”
+cried Norman of Torn.
+
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the
+rider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck
+the other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the
+dust of the roadway.
+
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair
+battle upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor,
+the knight also had the advantage of its protection, so that the two
+fought furiously for several minutes without either gaining an
+advantage.
+
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching
+every move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, but
+seemed riveted to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she was
+beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the handsome
+giant who had espoused her cause. As she looked upon her champion, she
+saw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect
+figure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean,
+athletic life of the trained fighting man.
+
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the sword
+arm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played
+with the sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so
+futilely before him. For all the din of clashing blades and rattling
+armor, neither of the contestants had inflicted much damage, for the
+knight could neither force nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect
+guard of his unarmored foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in
+penetrating the other’s armor.
+
+Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade
+through the meshes of his adversary’s mail, and the fellow, with a cry
+of anguish, sank limply to the ground.
+
+“Quick, Sir Knight!” cried the girl. “Mount and flee; yonder come his
+fellows.”
+
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he had
+just come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode three
+steel-armored men on their mighty horses.
+
+“Ride, madam,” cried Norman of Torn, “for fly I shall not, nor may I,
+alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay these
+three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape.
+Their heavy-burdened animals could never o’ertake your fleet palfrey.”
+
+As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. That
+she was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of
+her riding apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her
+noble and haughty demeanor and the proud expression of her beautiful
+face.
+
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of
+Norman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of
+women, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position. No
+woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory,
+ever known a mother.
+
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward
+men, except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in a
+way, he looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn
+looked up to anything: God, man or devil—it being more his way to look
+down upon all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined to alter
+the entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was
+beautiful, and that she was of that class against whom he had preyed
+for years with his band of outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more
+to face her enemies with the strange inconsistency which had ever
+marked his methods.
+
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father’s castle,
+but today he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her—had
+she been the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less.
+It was enough that she was a woman and in need of protection.
+
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for
+fair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But
+as the leading knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried
+out in surprise and consternation:
+
+“Mon Dieu, le Prince!” He wheeled his charging horse to one side. His
+fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them
+dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they
+had been keen to attack.
+
+“One would think they had met the devil,” muttered Norman of Torn,
+looking after them in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+“What means it, lady?” he asked turning to the damsel, who had made no
+move to escape.
+
+“It means that your face is well known in your father’s realm, my Lord
+Prince,” she replied. “And the King’s men have no desire to antagonize
+you, even though they may understand as little as I why you should
+espouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort.”
+
+“Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?” he asked.
+
+“An’ who else should you be taken for, my Lord?”
+
+“I am not the Prince,” said Norman of Torn. “It is said that Edward is
+in France.”
+
+“Right you are, sir,” exclaimed the girl. “I had not thought on that;
+but you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the Queen
+herself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king’s son. Who are you
+then, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for
+Bertrade, daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?”
+
+“Be you De Montfort’s daughter, niece of King Henry?” queried Norman of
+Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
+
+“That I be,” replied the girl, “an’ from your face I take it you have
+little love for a De Montfort,” she added, smiling.
+
+“An’ whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you niece
+or daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war
+against women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to
+safety.”
+
+“I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father’s knights, to
+visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby.”
+
+“I know the castle well,” answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow of a
+grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed
+since he had reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great
+baron. “Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you
+shall sup with your friend before dark.”
+
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their steps
+down the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where
+it had fallen.
+
+“Ride on,” he called to Bertrade de Montfort, “I will join you in an
+instant.”
+
+Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and
+lifting the dead knight’s visor, drew upon the forehead with the point
+of his dagger the letters NT.
+
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her
+and he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act.
+Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he
+did, her heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled in
+terror from the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark she had
+seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father’s knights and
+kinsmen.
+
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here
+Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more with
+lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de
+Montfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited
+his interest.
+
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a
+young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had
+often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and
+terrible attacks. While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of
+women captives, there was no truth in them. They were merely spread by
+his enemies to incite the people against him. Never had Norman of Torn
+laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath
+to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
+
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something
+stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for
+years. It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing
+for companionship of such as she, and such as she represented. Norman
+of Torn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did
+not know, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it,
+mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for
+other lions, but for his lioness.
+
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
+
+“You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?”
+
+“I am Nor—” and then he stopped. Always before he had answered that
+question with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought. Was it
+because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of
+this daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fear
+to face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in
+that lovely face?
+
+“I am from Normandy,” he went on quietly. “A gentleman of France.”
+
+“But your name?” she said peremptorily. “Are you ashamed of your name?”
+
+“You may call me Roger,” he answered. “Roger de Conde.”
+
+“Raise your visor, Roger de Conde,” she commanded. “I do not take
+pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a
+man within.”
+
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus,
+as he rarely did, he was good to look upon.
+
+“It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade
+de Montfort,” he said.
+
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and
+health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as
+they might have been friends of long standing.
+
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day,
+attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of
+Colfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily
+and roughly denied by her father.
+
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that
+the old reprobate who sued for his daughter’s hand heard some unsavory
+truths from the man who had twice scandalized England’s nobility by his
+rude and discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
+
+“This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to,” growled Norman of Torn.
+“And, as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours
+for the asking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort.”
+
+“Very well,” she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much
+indulged in in those days. “You may bring me his head upon a golden
+dish, Roger de Conde.”
+
+“And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his
+princess the head of her enemy?” he asked lightly.
+
+“What boon would the knight ask?”
+
+“That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever
+calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and
+believe in his honor and his loyalty.”
+
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell
+her that this was more than play.
+
+“It shall be as you say, Sir Knight,” she replied. “And the boon once
+granted shall be always kept.”
+
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided
+that he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any
+other thing he knew of. And wishing it, he determined to win it by any
+means that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many
+respects was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
+
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and
+there, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the
+Baron’s hospitality overnight.
+
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when
+added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort,
+he made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
+
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire
+household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences
+of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore
+his sword arm in a sling.
+
+“We have been through grievous times,” said Sir John, noticing that his
+guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. “That fiend,
+Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us for
+ten days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is no
+longer safe in England with the King spending his time and money with
+foreign favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his own
+barons, instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the right
+of every Englishman at home.
+
+“But,” he continued, “this outlaw devil will come to the end of a short
+halter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons themselves
+have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not
+subdue him.”
+
+“An’ he may send the barons naked home as he did the King’s soldiers,”
+laughed Bertrade de Montfort. “I should like to see this fellow; what
+may he look like—from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many of
+your men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him.”
+
+“Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us,” replied the
+Baron, “but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him
+and that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and
+having one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his
+chin.”
+
+“A fearful apparition,” murmured Norman of Torn. “No wonder he keeps
+his helm closed.”
+
+“But such a swordsman,” spoke up a son of De Stutevill. “Never in all
+the world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard.”
+
+“I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay,” said Bertrade de
+Montfort, “and that today. O he!” she cried, laughing gleefully,
+“verily do I believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this
+very knight, who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne’er saw
+man fight before, and he rode with his visor down until I chid him for
+it.”
+
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company
+he most enjoyed the joke.
+
+“An’ speaking of the Devil,” said the Baron, “how think you he will
+side should the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his
+thousand hell-hounds, the fate of England might well be in the palm of
+his bloody hand.”
+
+“He loves neither King nor baron,” spoke Mary de Stutevill, “and I
+rather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather
+plunder the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be
+absent at war.”
+
+“It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcome
+him,” said De Stutevill, ruthfully. “But yet I am always in fear for
+the safety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any
+time. May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn.”
+
+“I think you may have no need of fear on that score,” spoke Mary, “for
+Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of
+Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was
+the great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his
+mailed hand as to crack the ruffian’s helm, saying at the time, ‘Know
+you, fellow, Norman of Torn does not war upon women?’”
+
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn
+heard no more of himself during that evening.
+
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and
+then, on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an
+embrasure of the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of
+the necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to remain.
+
+“To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort,” he said boldly, “I would forego
+any other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, but
+there are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away
+from you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father,
+Simon de Montfort, in Leicester. Provided,” he added, “that you will
+welcome me there.”
+
+“I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde,”
+replied the girl.
+
+“Remember that promise,” he said smiling. “Some day you may be glad to
+repudiate it.”
+
+“Never,” she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said
+it would have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women
+than was Norman of Torn.
+
+“I hope not,” he said gravely. “I cannot tell you, being but poorly
+trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you might
+know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade de
+Montfort,” and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his
+lips.
+
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few
+minutes later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at
+the castle and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a young
+woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden
+impulse, threw a kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear
+from the embrasure with the act.
+
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby,
+he had much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he
+realized what might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge
+of bitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whose
+teachings from the boy’s earliest childhood had guided him in the ways
+that had cut him off completely from the society of other men, except
+the wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneath
+the grisly banner of the young chief of Torn.
+
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl
+who had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel
+shame for his past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so
+he could not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his
+strange likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with
+the words of Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was
+it a heinous offence to own an accidental likeness to a king’s son?
+
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with
+closed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face
+from the sight of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from
+some inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father
+Claude dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. The
+austere stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory
+reputation, always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial
+priest; not alone because of the deep friendship which the master of
+Torn felt for the good father, but through the personal charm, and
+lovableness of the holy man’s nature, which shone alike on saint and
+sinner.
+
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful
+Norman, during the period that the boy’s character was most amenable to
+strong impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many
+respects pure and lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won
+for Father Claude his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old
+man whose sole aim in life seemed to have been to smother every finer
+instinct of chivalry and manhood in the boy, to whose training he had
+devoted the past nineteen years of his life.
+
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey—fat people do not
+“dismount”—a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and to
+lead the animal to the stables.
+
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a
+question here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity
+that bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance.
+
+As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him
+laughing, though respectful, welcomes and within the great court,
+beautified with smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains,
+statues and small shrubs and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red
+Shandy, now the principal lieutenant of Norman of Torn.
+
+“Good morrow, Saint Claude!” cried the burly ruffian. “Hast come to
+save our souls, or damn us? What manner of sacrilege have we committed
+now, or have we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come to
+scold, or praise?”
+
+“Neither, thou unregenerate villain,” cried the priest, laughing.
+“Though methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with
+which thou didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week.”
+
+“Tut, tut, Father,” replied Red Shandy. “We did but aid him to adhere
+more closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and
+disciple he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of His
+Church to walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be
+ever surrounded with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much
+gold, to say nothing of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of
+wine?”
+
+“I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of
+wine as may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had
+finished with him,” exclaimed Father Claude.
+
+“Yes, Father,” laughed the great fellow, “for the sake of Holy Church,
+I did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must
+needs have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now
+and you shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of
+Norwich displays in the selection of his temptations.”
+
+“They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
+Shandy,” continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
+outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
+
+“One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the
+sun was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that
+single article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays
+of old sol. Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some
+vandals of the road, he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the
+gorget so that it could not be removed by other than a smithy, and
+thus, strapped face to tail upon a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of
+Norwich rattling down the dusty road with his head, at least, protected
+from the idle gaze of whomsoever he might chance to meet. Forty stripes
+he gave to each of the Bishop’s retinue for being abroad in bad
+company; but come, here we are where you shall have the wine as proof
+of my tale.”
+
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop’s good Canary, the little old man of
+Torn entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if
+he knew aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+
+“We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out
+in the direction of your cottage,” he concluded.
+
+“Why, yes,” said the priest, “I saw him that day. He had an adventure
+with several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he
+rescued a damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be
+of the house of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son did not
+say whither or for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned his
+armor, while the girl waited without, was that I should now behold the
+falcon guarding the dove. Has he not returned?”
+
+“No,” said the old man, “and doubtless his adventure is of a nature in
+line with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed my
+training, without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an
+iron-barred nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English
+nobility. An’ thou leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service
+in the household of the King.”
+
+“Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here,” said the priest
+quietly.
+
+“Why say you that?” snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claude
+narrowly.
+
+“Oh,” laughed the priest, “because he whose power and mien be even more
+kingly than the King’s would rightly grace the royal palace,” but he
+had not failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did
+his off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+
+At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy’s presence was
+required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful
+glance at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
+
+For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was
+presently broken by the old man of Torn.
+
+“Priest,” he said, “thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to my
+liking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious
+time from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what
+benefit may a knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large
+before him. It may be years and again it may be but months, but as sure
+as there be a devil in hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king’s
+gibbet. And thou knowst it, and he too, as well as I. The things which
+thou hast taught him be above his station, and the hopes and ambitions
+they inspire will but make his end the bitterer for him. Of late I have
+noted that he rides upon the highway with less enthusiasm than was his
+wont, but he has gone too far ever to go back now; nor is there where
+to go back to. What has he ever been other than outcast and outlaw?
+What hopes could you have engendered in his breast greater than to be
+hated and feared among his blood enemies?”
+
+“I know not thy reasons, old man,” replied the priest, “for devoting
+thy life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare
+not voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For all
+thou dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his
+nature, I have done and shall continue to do all in my power to
+controvert. As thou hast been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his
+good angel, and when all is said and done and Norman of Torn swings
+from the King’s gibbet, as I only too well fear he must, there will be
+more to mourn his loss than there be to curse him.
+
+“His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the
+friends and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more
+greatly to his honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+
+“Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his
+honor when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be
+forgotten in the greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
+
+“Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel
+and degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the
+Outlaw of Torn, it will be thou—I had almost said, unnatural father;
+but I do not believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the
+veins of him thou callest son.”
+
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment,
+his face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and
+rage, but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+
+“Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear,” he said
+bitterly, “but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past
+there has been peace between us, though no love; now let us both
+understand that it be war and hate. My life work is cut out for me.
+Others, like thyself, have stood in my path, yet today I am here, but
+where are they? Dost understand me, priest?” And the old man leaned far
+across the table so that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of
+venom, blazed but a few inches from those of the priest.
+
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+
+“I understand,” he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the
+door, which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of
+permission. Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of
+Torn, and his face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
+
+“Greetings, my son,” said the priest.
+
+“And to thee, Father,” replied the outlaw. “And what may be the news of
+Torn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the castle?”
+
+“All be well at the castle,” replied Father Claude, “if by that you
+mean have none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy,
+why wilt thou not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never been
+my way to scold or chide thee, yet always has my heart ached for each
+crime laid at the door of Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Come, come, Father,” replied the outlaw, “what do I that I have not
+good example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church.
+Murder, theft, rapine! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or
+all perpetrated in the name of some of these?
+
+“Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous
+for the wolf to tear the sheep? Methinks not. Only do I collect from
+those who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they
+prey upon those who have naught.
+
+“Yet,” and his manner suddenly changed, “I do not love it, Father. That
+thou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but there is
+none.
+
+“If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can
+I myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of
+this life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those very
+enemies I have been taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, there
+can be but one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope.”
+
+“No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way,” replied the good
+Father. “In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for such
+as thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman
+of Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the
+highest of the land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do not
+raise your hand. You be all these and more, for you have learning far
+beyond the majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a true
+chivalry of character. With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar your
+way to the highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have no
+future beyond the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn?”
+
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across
+his eyes as though to brush away a vision.
+
+“There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
+least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring.”
+
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill was
+drawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had
+ridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome
+young knight’s name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her
+fairer friend.
+
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great
+court, their arms about each other’s waists, pouring the last
+confidences into each other’s ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected
+to return to Leicester.
+
+“Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade,” said Mary. “Were my
+father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only the
+small escort which we be able to give.”
+
+“Fear not, Mary,” replied Bertrade. “Five of thy father’s knights be
+ample protection for so short a journey. By evening it will have been
+accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such
+a sound setback from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will
+venture again to molest me.”
+
+“But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?” urged Mary. “Only
+yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey’s men-at-arms came limping to
+us with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his
+master’s household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I can think of naught
+more horrible than to fall into his hands.”
+
+“Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman of
+Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father’s
+castle. How be it thou so soon hast changed thy mind?”
+
+“Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what
+horrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond
+compare. Again, forget not that thou be Leicester’s daughter and
+Henry’s niece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears
+his hatred and his vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I
+be sure my father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall
+accompany thee instead of five.”
+
+“What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is
+on a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
+
+“If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five
+knights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a
+mouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shall
+start tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day
+with the best of word from me.”
+
+“If thou wilt, thou wilt,” cried Mary petulantly. “Indeed it were plain
+that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be second
+only to their historic stubbornness.”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
+
+“Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad
+to protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of
+a truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I e’er saw
+fight before.”
+
+“Methinks,” said Mary, still peeved at her friend’s determination to
+leave on the morrow, “that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all
+unarmed, that still would you send back my father’s knights.”
+
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount
+to her cheek.
+
+“Thou be a fool, Mary,” she said.
+
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the
+discomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
+
+“Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but
+now I see that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to look upon,
+but what knowest thou of him?”
+
+“Hush, Mary!” commanded Bertrade. “Thou know not what thou sayest. I
+would not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and
+then—it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no
+word hath he sent.”
+
+“Oh, ho,” cried the little plague, “so there lies the wind? My Lady
+would not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has
+sent her no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade.”
+
+“I will not talk with you, Mary,” cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaled
+foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward the
+castle.
+
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite
+sides of a little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very
+stout. His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the
+manner of his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and
+flabby over his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his
+life had been given. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his
+suit of armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his
+guest might be. It was the little armored man who was speaking.
+
+“Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter,” he said, “that
+you must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the
+passion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the
+maiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you.”
+
+“How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father’s castle?”
+asked Peter of Colfax.
+
+“That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and,
+if thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that
+we may take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow.”
+
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of
+Leicester’s to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest—the
+fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method of
+obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
+
+“Come,” said the little, armored man irritably. “I cannot bide here
+forever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge,
+and if thou wilt not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and
+then not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more.”
+
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+
+“It is agreed,” he said. “The men shall ride out with you in half an
+hour. Wait below in the courtyard.”
+
+When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned
+his squire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful
+henchmen.
+
+“Guy,” said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, “ye made a rare fizzle
+of a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak?”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+“It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve thy
+blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in the
+courtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye
+lost to a handful of men before. You understand?”
+
+“Yes, My Lord!”
+
+“And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us.
+At the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay
+him. Tell the others that these be my orders.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?”
+
+“At once. You may go.”
+
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her
+father’s castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary de
+Stutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting out upon
+such a dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de
+Montfort was firm.
+
+“Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly
+that even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. I
+shall have enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add even
+one more day to my excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and my
+father may be sore distressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I must
+ride today.” And so she did, with the five knights that could be spared
+from the castle’s defence.
+
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so that
+they were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,
+wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and wind
+increased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in such
+blinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to
+the instincts of their mounts.
+
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were winding
+across a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest,
+into the somber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint of
+armor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the
+riders saw it not. On they came, their patient horses plodding slowly
+through the sticky road and hurtling storm.
+
+Now they were halfway up the ridge’s side. There was a movement in the
+dark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band
+of steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at
+full run down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl’s escort
+before a blow could be struck in her defense. Her two remaining
+guardians wheeled to meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit
+themselves, for it took the entire eleven who were pitted against them
+to overcome and slay the two.
+
+In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of her
+assailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs
+to her palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at a
+rapid pace in pursuit.
+
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de
+Montfort urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the
+arms of Peter of Colfax on the shields of several of the attacking
+party.
+
+Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beasts
+of her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been
+tethered in their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the
+flying white steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies
+through the clouds.
+
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man’s foresight,
+Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As it
+was, however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards
+ere, in the midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched
+across the roadway between two trees.
+
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,
+Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a
+little, limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.
+
+There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount,
+so indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of
+Colfax, it was all the same to him. In either event, his purpose would
+be accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman
+of Torn from the path he had laid out for him.
+
+That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the
+Spaniard, the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose
+mean aid the little grim, gray man had purchased since many months to
+spy upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw.
+
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade de
+Montfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
+
+“Come,” said the man called Guy, “if there be life left in her, we must
+hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct.”
+
+“I leave ye here,” said the little old man. “My part of the business is
+done.”
+
+And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest
+toward the castle of Colfax.
+
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five
+knights of Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the other
+two, sorely but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and,
+with his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then,
+drawing his dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of
+the five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
+
+“And if one fact be not enough,” he muttered, “that mark upon the dead
+will quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of
+Torn and Leicester.”
+
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of a
+dozen of his father’s knights on the road to Stutevill.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their
+oldest son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+
+With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly
+along the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a
+white palfrey standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back
+toward the driving storm.
+
+“By God,” cried De Montfort, “tis my sister’s own Abdul. There be
+something wrong here indeed.” But a rapid search of the vicinity, and
+loud calls brought no further evidence of the girl’s whereabouts, so
+they pressed on toward Stutevill.
+
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found,
+they came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied
+Bertrade from Stutevill.
+
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men.
+The arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had
+been Bertrade’s escort from Stutevill.
+
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, there
+stared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreaded
+sign, NT, scratched there with a dagger’s point.
+
+“The curse of God be on him!” cried De Montfort. “It be the work of the
+Devil of Torn, my gentlemen,” he said to his followers. “Come, we need
+no further guide to our destination.” And, remounting, the little party
+spurred back toward Torn.
+
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a
+strange room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless
+old woman, whose smile was but a fangless snarl.
+
+“Ho, ho!” she croaked. “The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it would
+take more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come,
+now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom can scarce
+restrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in the great
+hall he paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous
+countenance.”
+
+“Who be ye?” cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from the
+effects of her fall. “Where am I?” and then, “O, Mon Dieu!” as she
+remembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon the
+shields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror
+of her predicament; its utter hopelessness.
+
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the
+King; and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause
+with Henry, for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she
+was the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
+
+In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet,
+and presently a man’s voice at the door.
+
+“Within there, Coll! Has the damsel awakened from her swoon?”
+
+“Yes, Sir Peter,” replied the old woman. “I was but just urging her to
+arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below.”
+
+“Haste then, My Lady Bertrade,” called the man, “no harm will be done
+thee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will
+await thee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, will come to thee
+here.”
+
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the
+tones of her answer were calm and level.
+
+“I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon,” and rising, she hastened to
+dress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down the
+stairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl
+would not talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible
+means of escape.
+
+A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter of
+Colfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in the
+apartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl’s glance ranged the
+hall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed
+windows beyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God’s
+pure air outside these stifling walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black
+as the inky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few
+shades less begrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell
+upon the trophies of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in
+scorn, for she knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather
+than by the personal prowess of the present master of Colfax.
+
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from a
+small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather to
+accentuate the dim shadows of the place.
+
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table,
+blackened by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented
+and nicked by the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when
+wild and lusty brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of some
+wandering minstrel, or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains for
+the oath of fealty.
+
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy
+chairs which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and
+she shuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered
+floor which was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with
+such bones and scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
+
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but
+passing heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly
+have the encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store
+for her.
+
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that
+in addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment,
+where she had entered, there was but one other door leading from the
+hall. This was at one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it
+led into a small room, apparently a bedchamber.
+
+As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her
+and directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From
+the black mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he
+closed the panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward
+the girl. At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword
+to attract her attention.
+
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his
+appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as
+she said:
+
+“What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery
+against thy neighbor’s daughter and thy sovereign’s niece?”
+
+“When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent,” replied the
+pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, “love must still find
+its way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great
+father and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous
+Bertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after it
+since we did first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I kneel
+to thee, my dove!” And with cracking joints the fat baron plumped down
+upon his marrow bones.
+
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into
+a sneering smile.
+
+“Thou art a fool, Sir Peter,” she said, “and, at that, the worst
+species of fool—an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for
+I will have none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no
+word of what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go,
+’tis all I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what
+you would have. I do not love you, nor ever can I.”
+
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already
+ruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise
+with dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact
+that his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours
+before he could rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow,
+raising his stern high in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gained
+his feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on
+her face.
+
+“Return to thy chamber,” he thundered. “I will give thee until tomorrow
+to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or
+take another position in his household which will bar thee for all time
+from the society of thy kind.”
+
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
+
+“I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,
+degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast
+not the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well
+ye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his
+own hand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to
+me, his daughter.” And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall,
+and mounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of
+Colfax.
+
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late the
+following afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before
+him once more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl’s fears
+that she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire
+threat, and so she had again been casting about for some means of
+escape or delay.
+
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the
+castle, fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasure
+overlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this
+direction. The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and
+itself composed of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with
+iron.
+
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she could
+barricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate
+in the hope that succor might come from some source. But her most
+subtle wiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of
+her harpy jailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was
+beside herself for a lack of means to thwart her captor.
+
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the
+old woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
+
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the
+old woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl’s
+body to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached
+quickly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quickly
+she sprang back from the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm,
+rushed upon her.
+
+“Back!” cried the girl. “Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel the
+length of thine own blade.”
+
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a most
+horrible manner, at the same time calling for help.
+
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where
+she was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into
+place. Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of
+Colfax, with a dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly
+upon the outside.
+
+“What’s wrong within, Coll,” cried the Baron.
+
+“The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me,” shrieked
+the old woman.
+
+“An’ that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax,” spoke Bertrade, “if you do
+not immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, for
+I will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own
+people stand without.”
+
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all in
+vain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle
+the Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner
+out.
+
+Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding
+her prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single
+second. All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it
+found her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
+
+Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade
+her to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct
+to her father’s castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be
+fooled by his lying tongue.
+
+“Then will I starve you out,” he cried at length.
+
+“Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,”
+replied the girl. “But thy old servant here will starve first, for she
+be very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you
+to kill two and still be robbed of thy prey?”
+
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would
+carry out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels,
+axes and saws upon the huge door.
+
+For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was
+late at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a
+hand and arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise the
+bars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thus
+the keen dagger in the girl’s hand put an end to all hopes of entering
+without completely demolishing the door.
+
+To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while
+Peter of Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they
+had made. Bertrade replied but once.
+
+“Seest thou this poniard?” she asked. “When that door falls, this point
+enters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou,
+poltroon, to which death in this little chamber would not be
+preferable.”
+
+As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the
+first time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance
+from the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a
+tigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the
+wrist which held the dagger.
+
+“Quick, My Lord!” she shrieked, “the bolts, quick.”
+
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the
+door and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old
+woman.
+
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade’s fingers, and at the
+Baron’s bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
+
+As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode
+back and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he
+stopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
+
+“Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?” he asked angrily.
+“I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of
+Colfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what
+be your answer now?”
+
+“The same as it has been these past two days,” she replied with haughty
+scorn. “The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife nor
+mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die,
+it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to
+touch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king,
+wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!”
+
+“Hold, chit!” cried the Baron, livid with rage. “You have gone too far.
+Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere
+the sun rises.” And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the
+arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his
+sojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy
+with his wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey,
+a royalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw’s
+fighting men; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of
+the chief of the barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the
+rebels or their friends.
+
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of
+his expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a
+dozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn
+the mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible
+and unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen
+knights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of his
+great band of villains.
+
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,
+oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce
+and would have speech with the master of Torn.
+
+“Admit them, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn, “I will speak with them
+here.”
+
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it
+found itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
+
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the
+outlaw.
+
+“Be ye Norman of Torn?” he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatred
+and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
+
+“They call me so,” replied the visored knight. “And what may bring a De
+Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?”
+
+“Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn,” replied the young man.
+“It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you
+have us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid,
+only be quick and let me hence with my sister.”
+
+“What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean
+you?”
+
+“Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days
+since, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were
+fetching her home from a visit upon the Baron’s daughter. We know that
+it was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil’s mark.”
+
+“Shandy!” roared Norman of Torn. “WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon
+the road, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge
+during my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the
+truth!”
+
+“Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served you
+well, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and that
+never have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor is
+it the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their
+dead that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves.”
+
+“Henry de Montfort,” said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, “we
+of Torn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say
+that we unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I
+give you the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?”
+
+“They say you never lie,” replied De Montfort. “Would to God I knew who
+had done this thing, or which way to search for my sister.”
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and
+it was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or
+his rage against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his
+whole being.
+
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed
+the drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and
+the noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+
+Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried their
+mailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman the
+Devil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the
+castle of Peter of Colfax.
+
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn’s buttressed
+gates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
+
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient
+banded mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan.
+Gold and silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate
+and shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses’ head
+armor showed the rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman of
+Torn’s wild raiders.
+
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the
+gray banner of Torn, with the black falcon’s wing, flew above each of
+the five companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were
+covered with gray leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each,
+was the black falcon’s wing. The surcoats of the riders were also
+uniform, being of dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that
+notwithstanding the richness of the armor and the horse trappings,
+there was a grim, gray warlike appearance to these wild companies that
+comported well with their reputation.
+
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country of
+Europe, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf and
+noble; Briton, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot,
+Pict and Irish.
+
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall
+marks of his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder
+to shoulder with the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only
+requisites for admission to the troop were willingness and ability to
+fight, and an oath to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.
+
+The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, each
+company captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
+
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first
+three companies, the remaining seven being under command of other
+seasoned veterans of a thousand fights.
+
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important post
+of chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five
+cut-throats whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before,
+in the hut of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle
+of Torn, which post included also the vital functions of quartermaster
+and commissary.
+
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in the
+art of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the
+companies, due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and their
+battles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they did not
+always come off unscathed, though usually victorious.
+
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at the
+head of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column.
+Above his gray steel armor, a falcon’s wing rose from his crest. It was
+the insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle.
+Where it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, and
+about it they were wont to rally.
+
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and
+taciturn; nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
+
+At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: Red
+Shandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of
+Italy; and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
+
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early
+afternoon brought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave
+God-speed to them; but as they passed farther from the vicinity of
+Torn, where the black falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of its
+name than by the kindly deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of his
+neighborhood, they saw only closed and barred doors with an occasional
+frightened face peering from a tiny window.
+
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouetted
+against the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest
+a half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy
+and some fifty men to a point as close as they could come without being
+observed. Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthily
+forward alone.
+
+Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of
+the great gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shone
+dimly from the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was
+apparent. To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge
+lowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
+
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with
+its internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could
+reach a small antechamber above, which let directly into the great
+hall.
+
+And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of
+the little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood
+a strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girl
+saw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her
+face.
+
+“Draw!” commanded a low voice in English, “unless you prefer to pray,
+for you are about to die.”
+
+“Who be ye, varlet?” cried the Baron. “Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To the
+rescue, quick!” he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to
+back quickly toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor
+was upon him and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
+
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John
+and Guy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn
+swords.
+
+“Ware! Sir Knight,” cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushing
+to the aid of their master.
+
+Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon the
+terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the
+doorway bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions,
+and running quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and
+threw the key with all her might to the far corner of the hall. In an
+instant she regretted her act, for she saw that where she might have
+reduced her rescuer’s opponents by at least one, she had now forced the
+cowardly Baron to remain, and nothing fights more fiercely than a
+cornered rat.
+
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and
+for an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition
+of swordsmanship she was witnessing.
+
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same
+time, the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced
+them steadily back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel
+about them. Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in
+the heart of one of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor,
+it was flashing again close to the breasts of the two remaining
+men-at-arms.
+
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl’s
+attention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of
+Colfax was moving—slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind,
+toward the visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp
+dagger.
+
+For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a
+finger or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining
+control of her muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy
+foot-stool, hurled it full at Peter of Colfax.
+
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as the
+knight’s sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
+
+As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported the
+only lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all was
+darkness. There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats
+and then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
+
+“Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?” asked a grave English
+voice out of the darkness.
+
+“Quite, Sir Knight,” she replied, “and you?”
+
+“Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?”
+
+“He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin long
+dagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon
+you.”
+
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the
+room. Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeble
+rays slowly penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of the
+three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visored
+knight; but Peter of Colfax was gone.
+
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed
+a low, grim laugh.
+
+“He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade,” he said.
+
+“How know you my name?” she asked. “Who may you be? I do not recognize
+your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms.”
+
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled
+with the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde
+who had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short
+weeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and
+there was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger
+de Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it
+was true, with a slight French accent.
+
+“My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn,” said the visored knight with
+quiet dignity.
+
+The girl’s heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her.
+For years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad
+hatred against her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience
+by the vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown
+men had come to whisper the name with grim, set lips.
+
+“Norman of Torn!” she whispered. “May God have mercy on my soul!”
+
+Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across the
+countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of
+hopelessness, shook his giant frame.
+
+“You need not fear, My Lady,” he said sadly. “You shall be in your
+father’s castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be
+safer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your
+own mighty father, or your royal uncle.”
+
+“It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn,” spoke the girl, “and I
+believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort.”
+
+“It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
+Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me
+to do as I do, that is all. Come.”
+
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered
+drawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in
+answer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it
+was he.
+
+“Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,
+alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady’s cloak and a palfrey—and Shandy,
+when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,
+Shandy.”
+
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been
+a weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object
+of his many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern
+and signing him to listen, said:
+
+“Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for the
+love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague
+generality. Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade
+de Montfort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch,
+Shandy, from tower to scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no
+looting.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord,” answered Shandy, and departed with his little
+detachment.
+
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of
+Colfax.
+
+“He has flown, My Lord,” the big fellow reported, and indeed it was
+true. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle
+and, by a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some
+priests without the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he was
+several miles on his way to the coast and France; for he had recognized
+the swordsmanship of the outlaw, and did not care to remain in England
+and face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.
+
+“He will return,” was the outlaw’s only comment, when he had been fully
+convinced that the Baron had escaped.
+
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places,
+the prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully
+expecting a summary and horrible death.
+
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now
+save the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the
+warriors filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de
+Montfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed
+and free.
+
+As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames
+that sprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smoke
+rolled southward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear away
+from the burning castle for an instant to show the black walls pierced
+by their hundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the raging
+fire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common
+in those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than a
+passing backward glance.
+
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended
+their slow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was both
+elated and sad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girl who
+awakened such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a
+loathsome thing in her eyes. But that it was pure happiness just to be
+near her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow, what use to think!
+The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did not
+dare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfort
+to Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlaw
+swore quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ride
+without either fighting or loot.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe her
+life and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especial
+hatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house of
+Plantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken
+for so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might lie
+beneath that barred visor.
+
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle’s
+cantel and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air
+was chilly, and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad
+place in the road, lest the beast might slip and fall.
+
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond
+that, no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about
+midday within sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of
+so large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in
+hailing distance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with
+fighting men.
+
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the
+castle walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
+
+“Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?”
+
+“It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De
+Montfort,” replied Shandy. “He would enter with one companion, my Lord
+Earl.”
+
+“Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort—thinks he
+that I keep a robbers’ roost!” cried the fierce old warrior.
+
+“Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England,” boasted the
+red giant. “Will you see him in peace, My Lord?”
+
+“Let him enter,” said De Montfort, “but no knavery, now, we are a
+thousand men here, well armed and ready fighters.”
+
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of
+Torn and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath
+the portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law
+of Henry III of England.
+
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it
+had been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father’s men
+without being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de
+Montfort, and his sons Henry and Simon.
+
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside
+the outlaw’s cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
+
+“What means this,” cried De Montfort, “has the rascal offered you harm
+or indignity?”
+
+“You craven liar,” cried Henry de Montfort, “but yesterday you swore
+upon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool,
+believed.” And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman
+of Torn with drawn sword.
+
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew
+from its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the
+blade of young De Montfort hurtling across the courtyard; and then,
+before either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung
+between them and placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw,
+stretched forth the other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as
+though to protect Norman of Torn from further assault.
+
+“Be he outlaw or devil,” she cried, “he is a brave and courteous
+knight, and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best
+hospitality they can give, and not cold steel and insults.” Then she
+explained briefly to her astonished father and brothers what had
+befallen during the past few days.
+
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the
+first to step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn,
+and to ask his pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
+
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+
+“Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of
+Torn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing
+moment; but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude,
+but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the
+Devil, and that you have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I
+would gladly have your friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of
+Torn, with all his faults, as well as what virtues you may think him to
+possess.”
+
+“You are right, sir,” said the Earl, “you have our gratitude and our
+thanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and
+ever during our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery
+and your candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not
+break bread at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the
+right to do.”
+
+“Your speech is that of a wise and careful man,” said Norman of Torn
+quietly. “I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel with
+the House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they
+are at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye.” But as he turned to
+go, Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
+
+“You must take my hand in friendship,” she said, “for, to my dying day,
+I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror from
+which he has rescued me.”
+
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one
+knee raised them to his lips.
+
+“To no other—woman, man, king, God, or devil—has Norman of Torn bent
+the knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his
+services are yours for the asking.”
+
+And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of the
+castle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his five
+hundred men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in
+the roadway.
+
+“A strange man,” said Simon de Montfort, “both good and bad, but from
+today, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were
+other than he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the
+enemies of England, an he could be persuaded to our cause.”
+
+“Who knows,” said Henry de Montfort, “but that an offer of friendship
+might have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was a
+note of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+Several days after Norman of Torn’s visit to the castle of Leicester, a
+young knight appeared before the Earl’s gates demanding admittance to
+have speech with Simon de Montfort. The Earl received him, and as the
+young man entered his presence, Simon de Montfort sprang to his feet in
+astonishment.
+
+“My Lord Prince,” he cried. “What do ye here, and alone?”
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+“I be no prince, My Lord,” he said, “though some have said that I favor
+the King’s son. I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have pleased your
+gracious daughter to mention. I have come to pay homage to Bertrade de
+Montfort.”
+
+“Ah,” said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially, “an
+you be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows of
+Peter of Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+
+“Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her
+return. She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father. She
+has told us of your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of
+her brothers and mother await you, Roger de Conde.
+
+“She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until
+I saw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different
+mothers and yet be so identical. Come, we will seek out my daughter and
+her mother.”
+
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were
+greeted by Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort. The
+girl was frankly glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him
+because he had allowed another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her
+from Peter of Colfax.
+
+“And to think,” she cried, “that it should have been Norman of Torn who
+fulfilled your duties for you. But he did not capture Sir Peter’s head,
+my friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon a golden
+dish.”
+
+“I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade,” said Roger de Conde. “Peter of
+Colfax will return.”
+
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+
+“The very words of the Outlaw of Torn,” she said. “How many men be ye,
+Roger de Conde? With raised visor, you could pass in the King’s court
+for the King’s son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and
+your visor lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of Torn.”
+
+“And which would it please ye most that I be?” he laughed.
+
+“Neither,” she answered, “I be satisfied with my friend, Roger de
+Conde.”
+
+“So ye like not the Devil of Torn?” he asked.
+
+“He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligations
+to him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of
+an earl and a king’s sister.”
+
+“A most unbridgeable gulf indeed,” commented Roger de Conde, drily.
+“Not even gratitude could lead a king’s niece to receive Norman of Torn
+on a footing of equality.”
+
+“He has my friendship, always,” said the girl, “but I doubt me if
+Norman of Torn be the man to impose upon it.”
+
+“One can never tell,” said Roger de Conde, “what manner of fool a man
+may be. When a man’s head be filled with a pretty face, what room be
+there for reason?”
+
+“Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning of
+pretty compliments,” said the girl coldly; “and I like not courtiers,
+nor their empty, hypocritical chatter.”
+
+The man laughed.
+
+“If I turned a compliment, I did not know it,” he said. “What I think,
+I say. It may not be a courtly speech or it may. I know nothing of
+courts and care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what
+is in my mind or I say nothing. I did not, in so many words, say that
+you are beautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry
+with my poor eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer
+woman breathes the air of England. Nor can you chide my sinful brain
+that it gladly believes what mine eyes tell it. No, you may not be
+angry so long as I do not tell you all this.”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous a
+sophistry; and, truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear from
+the lips of Roger de Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, and
+before his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way into
+the good graces of the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+
+Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire
+life, yet it seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their
+kind as though he had always been among them. His starved soul, groping
+through the darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting and
+the light of friendship, and urged him to turn his back upon the old
+life, and remain ever with these people, for Simon de Montfort had
+offered the young man a position of trust and honor in his retinue.
+
+“Why refused you the offer of my father?” said Bertrade to him as he
+was come to bid her farewell. “Simon de Montfort is as great a man in
+England as the King himself, and your future were assured did you
+attach yourself to his person. But what am I saying! Did Roger de Conde
+not wish to be elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it
+is proof positive that he does not wish to bide among the De
+Montforts.”
+
+“I would give my soul to the devil,” said Norman of Torn, “would it buy
+me the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade Montfort.”
+
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak, but
+something—was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her little
+fingers, a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body toward
+him?—caused him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep into
+the eyes of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh that
+was half gasp, she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the
+King’s niece in his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a great
+love upon those that were upturned to him.
+
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself.
+
+“Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade,” he cried, “what is this thing that I have
+done! Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love for
+you plead in extenuation of my act.”
+
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong
+white hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:
+
+“See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it
+is not, Roger.”
+
+“You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a craven
+poltroon; but, God, how I love you.”
+
+“But,” said the girl, “I do love—”
+
+“Stop,” he cried, “not yet, not yet. Do not say it till I come again.
+You know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when next I
+come, I promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, and
+then, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, ‘I love you’ no power
+on earth, or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from being
+mine!”
+
+“I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you. I do not
+understand, but I know that you must have some good reason, though it
+all seems very strange to me. If I, a De Montfort, am willing to
+acknowledge my love for any man, there can be no reason why I should
+not do so, unless,” and she started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed
+and paling, “unless there be another woman, a—a—wife?”
+
+“There is no other woman, Bertrade,” said Norman of Torn. “I have no
+wife; nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever before
+touched the lips of another, for I do not remember my mother.”
+
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:
+
+“It is some old woman’s bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark
+corner of your imagination to frighten yourself with. I do not fear,
+since I know that you must be all good. There be no line of vice or
+deception upon your face and you are very brave. So brave and noble a
+man, Roger, has a heart of pure gold.”
+
+“Don’t,” he said, bitterly. “I cannot endure it. Wait until I come
+again and then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in your
+heart to speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be
+at zenith. Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father.
+Farewell, Bertrade, in a few days I return.”
+
+“If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent young
+puppy, you may save your breath,” thundered an angry voice, and Simon
+de Montfort strode, scowling, into the room.
+
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood
+of the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She faced him
+with as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned
+slowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze.
+
+“I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor,”
+continued the latter, “to readily guess what had gone before. So it is
+for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home? And
+thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head
+of the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught
+we know, some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that
+I do not aid you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most
+good.”
+
+“Stop!” cried the girl. “Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Roger
+de Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse,
+herself befouled and dishonored?”
+
+“I do not forget,” replied the Earl, “and it is because I remember that
+my sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply repaid by
+the friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
+clean the score. An’ you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I
+lose my temper.”
+
+“There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord,” spoke
+Norman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. “Your
+daughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate
+asking you for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if
+she will have me, My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall
+wed her. Norm—Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he
+would do.”
+
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to
+control himself to say,
+
+“My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
+negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis
+of France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
+Outlaw of Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be
+known outside his own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor let
+me see your face again within the walls of Leicester’s castle.”
+
+“You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be
+quarreling with words,” said the outlaw. “Farewell, My Lady. I shall
+return as I promised, and your word shall be law.” And with a profound
+bow to De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a few
+minutes was riding through the courtyard of the castle toward the main
+portals.
+
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called to him
+from above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+“Take this, Roger de Conde,” she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel to
+him, “and wear it ever, for my sake. We may never meet again, for the
+Earl my father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions;
+therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my
+saying. I love you, and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if
+you can find the means to take me.”
+
+“Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye be of
+the same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye. Again,
+farewell.” And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn
+passed out of the castle yard.
+
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found
+that it contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal.
+
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and then
+slipped it upon the third finger of his left hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester “in a few
+days,” nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade de
+Montfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+
+From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks on
+royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even
+Berkshire and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the
+outlaw.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form
+of Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard
+no word from her.
+
+He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he
+had parted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had
+left his brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility
+of his hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean
+only suffering and mortification for the woman he loved.
+
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from the
+subtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love,
+would doubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in the heat
+of a divine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw them
+together, and should that ever chance, while she was still free, he
+would let her know that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one
+and the same.
+
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No, it is
+impossible. It is better that she marry her French prince than to live,
+dishonored, the wife of a common highwayman; for though she might love
+me at first, the bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her
+love to hate.
+
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father
+Claude, the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations;
+the unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand
+which Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King and
+baron were declared.
+
+“It would seem that Henry,” said the priest, “by his continued breaches
+of both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging the
+barons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince
+Edward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to
+carry the ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces,
+convinces me that he be, by this time, well equipped to resist De
+Montfort and his associates.”
+
+“If that be the case,” said Norman of Torn, “we shall have war and
+fighting in real earnest ere many months.”
+
+“And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?” asked
+Father Claude.
+
+“Under the black falcon’s wing,” laughed he of Torn.
+
+“Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son,” said the priest, smiling.
+“Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierly
+qualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in
+the paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?”
+
+“Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on’t. I have one more duty
+to perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thy
+suggestion, but only on one condition.”
+
+“What be that, my son?”
+
+“That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; in
+truth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old man
+of Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I much
+mistrust, be no father to me.”
+
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes
+before he spoke.
+
+Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the
+windows, listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came
+to his attentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirely
+concealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid his
+traitorous form.
+
+At length the priest spoke.
+
+“Norman of Torn,” he said, “so long as thou remain in England, pitting
+thy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons
+of his realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself
+hast said an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy
+hatred against them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life
+uselessly away to satisfy the choler of another.
+
+“There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I
+guess and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope that
+it be false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the
+question to be settled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I
+be an old man and versed in reading true between the lines, and so I
+know that thou lovest Bertrade de Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And
+now, what I would say be this. In all England there lives no more
+honorable man than Simon de Montfort, nor none who could more truly
+decide upon thy future and thy past. Thou may not understand of what I
+hint, but thou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Yea, even with my life and honor, my father,” replied the outlaw.
+
+“Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt come
+hither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by his
+decision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be the
+best judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless.”
+
+“I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride
+south.”
+
+“It shall be by the third day, or not at all,” replied Father Claude,
+and Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of
+the lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw
+chief and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little,
+grim, gray, old man.
+
+As the priest’s words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in
+anger.
+
+“The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted near
+twenty years,” he muttered, “if I find not the means to quiet his
+half-wit tongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined
+now. Well then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that
+now be as good a time as any. If we come near enough to the King’s men
+on this trip south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet
+dog shall taste the fruits of his own tyranny,” then glancing up and
+realizing that Spizo, the Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man,
+scowling, cried:
+
+“What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?”
+
+“Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently,” replied the
+Spaniard.
+
+The old man eyed him closely.
+
+“An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of
+Father Claude and entered.
+
+“I am honored,” said the priest, rising.
+
+“Priest,” cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, “Norman
+of Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here.
+I know not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy’s sake, carry not
+out thy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best
+that this meeting take place after we return from the south.”
+
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so
+the latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until
+later.
+
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the
+head of his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward
+London town. One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and
+other servants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their
+tents and other impedimenta, and bring back the loot.
+
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left to
+guard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+
+At the column’s head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray, old
+man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the
+catapult detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane,
+with his company, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance
+of the column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling of
+sword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and
+ear ample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon
+no peaceful mission.
+
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whom we
+have met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron of
+Cobarth of Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like their
+leader, each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon his
+head, and the story of the life of any one would fill a large volume
+with romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery and death.
+
+Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they
+came upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meeting
+was at a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other
+before the ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair
+wards.
+
+“What the devil be this,” cried one of the knights, as the main body of
+the outlaw horde came into view, “the King’s army or one of his foreign
+legions?”
+
+“It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men,” replied the outlaw.
+
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a
+thousand, and there were two women with them.
+
+“Who be ye?” said the outlaw.
+
+“I am Richard de Tany of Essex,” said the oldest knight, he who had
+first spoken, “and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de
+Stutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would you
+of us? Name your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid;
+only let us go our way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil of
+Torn, for we be but ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let the
+women go unharmed.”
+
+“My Lady Mary is an old friend,” said the outlaw. “I called at her
+father’s home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, and
+the lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of
+Torn than they might be in the King’s palace.”
+
+“Right he is,” spoke up Lady Mary. “Norman of Torn accorded my mother,
+my sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as much
+for his treatment of my father,” she added, half smiling.
+
+“I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany,” said Norman of Torn.
+“Ride on.”
+
+The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle
+of Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger
+de Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+
+In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and
+Norman of Torn trotted into the courtyard.
+
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de
+Tany were waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an
+old friend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in
+welcoming her friend’s friend to the hospitality of her father’s
+castle.
+
+“Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex,” cried
+Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. “Today it is Roger de Conde,
+yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home.”
+
+“I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from
+Roger de Conde,” said Mary, smiling. “For I have heard tales, and I see
+a great ring upon the gentleman’s hand—a ring which I have seen
+before.”
+
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but
+asked bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+“Thrice within the year have I received missives from her,” replied
+Mary. “In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why
+he did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not
+his name, but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip.”
+
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly,
+but no sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his
+face.
+
+“I guess it be better so,” he said quietly. “The daughter of a De
+Montfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer,” he added,
+a little bitterly.
+
+“You wrong her, my friend,” said Mary de Stutevill. “She loved you and,
+unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself,
+she loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what
+can you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thought you
+that she would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the
+alliance her father has made for her?”
+
+“You do not understand,” he answered, “and I may not tell you; but I
+ask that you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of
+mind, for her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But,
+let us talk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force
+it upon others. I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope,
+happy. It will never be given to me to make her or any other woman so.
+I would that I had never come into her life, but I did not know what I
+was doing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness was strong upon me,
+so that I was weak and could not resist what I had never known before
+in all my life—love.”
+
+“You could not well be blamed,” said Joan de Tany, generously.
+“Bertrade de Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a
+benediction simply to have known her.”
+
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first
+time, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she
+spoke, her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of
+intelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.
+Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried a
+wounded heart in his breast that longed for surcease from its
+sufferings—for a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises.
+
+And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a
+daily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance
+between the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and
+with one of them, it threatened even more.
+
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only
+friendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard
+and lonely one. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had
+entered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
+
+His every thought was loyal to the woman who he knew was not for him,
+but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the
+friendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dream
+that either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweet
+friendliness which was as new to him as love—how could he mark the line
+between or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!
+
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow in
+matters of the heart—many there were, she knew, who were thus. She
+might have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let
+things drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
+
+“Be careful of thy heart, Joan,” she said, “lest it be getting away
+from thee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly
+than he forgets.”
+
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+
+“I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill,”
+she replied warmly. “If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so.
+Do not think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine
+is equally susceptible.”
+
+It was Mary’s turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on her
+tongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.
+Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
+
+“I do not love him,” she said, “and I be glad that you do not, for I
+know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore
+undying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the
+subject.”
+
+It was at this time that the King’s soldiers were harassing the lands
+of the rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their
+stinging defeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was
+scarcely safe for small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they
+fall into the hands of the mercenaries of Henry III.
+
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the
+attacks of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find
+them suffering imprisonment, and sometimes worse, at the hands of the
+King’s supporters.
+
+And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan
+de Tany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of
+the merchants.
+
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King’s
+party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of
+London was beset with many dangers.
+
+“Why,” cried the girl’s mother in exasperation, “between robbers and
+royalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an
+army to escort you.”
+
+“But then, as I have no army,” retorted the laughing girl, “if you
+reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe.”
+
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him with
+being afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he
+might remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother’s pantry.
+
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road
+to London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger
+de Conde was of the party.
+
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from the
+outlaw’s camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders
+were to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany,
+with Roger de Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he
+bore to the captain of the gate.
+
+The letter contained this brief message:
+
+“The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn,” and was
+unsigned.
+
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who
+had attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered
+two parties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The
+leader of the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little
+band, and, reining in before them, cried brusquely,
+
+“Who be ye?”
+
+“A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London,” replied Norman
+of Torn.
+
+“I asked not your mission,” cried the fellow. “I asked, who be ye?
+Answer, and be quick about it.”
+
+“I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters and
+servants,” lied the outlaw, “and were it not that the ladies be with
+me, your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your
+boorish insolence.”
+
+“There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a
+French coward,” cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
+
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of
+Roger de Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she
+saw and understood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his
+lips as he heard the man’s challenge and lowered the point of his own
+spear.
+
+Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were
+some ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together the
+impact was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two
+powerful war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each
+struck the exact center of his opponent’s shield. Then, wheeling their
+horses and throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De
+Conde and the officer advanced with drawn swords.
+
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting
+to ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from
+the tip of the outlaw’s sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew
+the battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling
+and turning shoulder to shoulder.
+
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the
+eyes of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed
+every move of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
+
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim
+and haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many
+words the utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary.
+And as Joan de Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a
+cold, hard line, and the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her
+woman’s intuition read the death warrant of the King’s officer ere the
+sword of the outlaw buried itself in his heart.
+
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat
+spellbound as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader’s
+corpse rolled from the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde
+and his little party.
+
+The Baron’s men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even
+with the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was
+apparent from the first.
+
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to
+the thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their
+saddles as his leaping point found their vitals.
+
+Nearly all of the Baron’s men were down, when one, an old servitor,
+spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.
+
+“Come, my ladies,” he cried, “quick and you may escape. They be so busy
+with the battle that they will never notice.”
+
+“Take the Lady Mary, John,” cried Joan, “I brought Roger de Conde to
+this pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end.”
+
+“But, My Lady—” cried John.
+
+“But nothing, sirrah!” she interrupted sharply. “Do as you are bid.
+Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father’s castle in
+safety,” and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary’s palfrey across
+the rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leaped
+frantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they
+had come.
+
+“After her, John,” commanded Joan peremptorily, “and see that you turn
+not back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring
+aid.”
+
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan
+from her earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that
+he wheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady
+Mary de Stutevill.
+
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fully
+twenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy
+toll of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked
+him from behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full
+upon his helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as his
+lifeless body rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the
+battle-tramped clay of the highroad.
+
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his
+prostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling,
+steel-clad horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. And
+well it was for Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day,
+for even as she reached his side, the sword point of one of the
+soldiers was at his throat for the coup de grace.
+
+With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw’s body,
+shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword.
+
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her
+from his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped
+up and drew rein beside the party.
+
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,
+black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often seen
+upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor to
+positions of power and affluence.
+
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for
+years one of the King’s favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort
+and the barons.
+
+“What now?” he cried. “What goes on here?”
+
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+
+“A party of the King’s enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routed
+them, taking these two prisoners.”
+
+“Who be ye?” he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside De
+Conde, and as she raised her head, “My God! The daughter of De Tany! a
+noble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?”
+
+“Look for yourself, My Lord Earl,” replied the girl removing the helm,
+which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
+
+“Edward?” he ejaculated. “But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterday
+leave Edward in Dover.”
+
+“I know not who he be,” said Joan de Tany, “except that he be the most
+marvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see.
+He called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than
+that he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has no
+quarrel with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make
+war on women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your
+soldiers wantonly set upon us.”
+
+“A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troublous
+times,” replied the Earl, “and that alone were enough to necessitate my
+keeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so I
+will grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, but
+a prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need the
+cheering company of a fair and loving lady.”
+
+The girl’s head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
+
+“Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to
+some comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honored in
+England, even though it does not share the King’s favors with his
+foreign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?”
+
+“All be fair in war, my beauty,” replied the Earl. “Egad,” he
+continued, “methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you.
+It has been some years since I have seen you and I did not know the old
+fox Richard de Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old
+castle.”
+
+“Then you refuse to release us?” said Joan de Tany.
+
+“Let us not put it thus harshly,” countered the Earl. “Rather let us
+say that it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers
+that the Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the
+beautiful daughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and
+so—”
+
+“Let us have an end to such foolishness,” cried the girl. “I might have
+expected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee, who
+once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his
+friends to curry favor with the King.”
+
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the
+girl, but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers,
+saying:
+
+“Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I would
+learn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crown
+prince.”
+
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel
+baron which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as
+headquarters by De Fulm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a small
+tower room in a strange castle. His head ached horribly, and he felt
+sick and sore; but he managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay,
+and by steadying his swaying body with hands pressed against the wall,
+he was able to reach the door. To his disappointment, he found this
+locked from without and, in his weakened condition, he made no attempt
+to force it.
+
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, but
+his helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened,
+he became more and more impatient. Repeated pounding upon the door
+brought no response and finally he gave up in despair. Going to the
+window, he saw that his room was some thirty feet above the
+stone-flagged courtyard, and also that it looked at an angle upon other
+windows in the old castle where lights were beginning to show. He saw
+men-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he caught a glimpse of a
+woman’s figure, but he was not sure.
+
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. He
+hoped that they had escaped, and yet—no, Joan certainly had not, for
+now he distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instant
+just before the blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith and
+confidence that he had read in that quick glance. Such a look would
+nerve a jackal to attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw. What a
+beautiful creature she was; and she had stayed there with him during
+the fight. He remembered now. Mary de Stutevill had not been with her
+as he had caught that glimpse of her, no, she had been all alone. Ah!
+That was friendship indeed!
+
+What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of his
+bruised and wavering memory? Words? Words of love? And lips pressed to
+his? No, it must be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate? He felt, and found
+a metal bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of
+silken hair. He carried the little thing to the window, and in the
+waning light made it out to be a golden hair ornament set with precious
+stones, but he could not tell if the little strand of silken hair were
+black or brown. Carefully he detached the little thing, and, winding
+the filmy tress about it, placed it within the breast of his tunic. He
+was vaguely troubled by it, yet why he could scarcely have told,
+himself.
+
+Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within his
+vision, and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knight
+coming within the scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+
+From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently in
+heated discussion with someone whom Norman of Torn could not see. The
+man, a great, tall, black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pounding
+upon a table to emphasize his words, and presently he sprang up as
+though rushing toward the one to whom he had been speaking. He
+disappeared from the watcher’s view for a moment and then, at the far
+side of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him again just as he roughly
+grasped the figure of a woman who evidently was attempting to escape
+him. As she turned to face her tormentor, all the devil in the Devil of
+Torn surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was that of Joan de
+Tany.
+
+With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself against
+the bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavy
+feet without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was
+fitted to the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wall
+beside the doorway, where the inswinging door would conceal him.
+
+As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly,
+the interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, the
+visitor did not see that the cot was empty.
+
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword. That was enough for
+the Devil of Torn—it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellow
+could assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed
+upon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw.
+
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, and
+the clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger
+at his side, the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+
+Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tugging
+with ever diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath.
+Slowly and feebly he raised it high above the back of the man on top of
+him; with a last supreme effort he drove the point downward, but ere it
+reached its goal, there was a sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone,
+the dagger fell harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolled
+backward upon his broken neck.
+
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of
+Torn rushed from the tower room.
+
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joan de
+Tany, she turned upon him like a tigress. Blow after blow she rained
+upon his head and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her
+full upon the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this did not
+subdue her and, with ever weakening strength, she continued to strike
+him. And then the great royalist Earl, the chosen friend of the King,
+took the fair white throat between his great fingers, and the lust of
+blood supplanted the lust of love, for he would have killed her in his
+rage.
+
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword.
+They were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at the
+sight caused the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to
+meet him.
+
+There were no words, for there was no need of words here. The two men
+were upon each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl had
+regained her feet. It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had
+not some of his men heard the fracas, and rushed to his aid.
+
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room,
+fairly falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swords
+into him; but once they met that master hand, they went more slowly,
+and in a moment, two of them went no more at all, and the others, with
+the Earl, were but circling warily in search of a chance opening—an
+opening which never came.
+
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the
+room, and behind him stood Joan de Tany.
+
+“Move toward the left,” she whispered. “I know this old pile. When you
+reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway
+directly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel
+my hand in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway,
+which you must turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?”
+
+He nodded.
+
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the
+meantime keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl was careful
+to keep out of reach of the point of De Conde’s sword, and the
+men-at-arms were nothing loath to emulate their master’s example.
+
+Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
+emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came
+too close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow’s throat, Norman of
+Torn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword
+swung with a resounding blow against the lamp.
+
+As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through the
+little door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had
+instructed.
+
+“This way,” she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
+silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped
+before a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.
+
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. More and
+more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded
+through the castle.
+
+“What is wrong?” asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
+perturbation.
+
+“Mon Dieu!” she cried. “Can I be wrong! Surely this is the room. Oh, my
+friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness
+and vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I
+forget the way.”
+
+“Do not worry about me,” laughed the Devil of Torn. “Methought that it
+was I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else, for
+surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a handful of
+swords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan,” he
+added more gravely.
+
+The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
+flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.
+
+At last the girl, with a little cry of “stupid,” seized De Conde and
+rushed him to the far side of the room.
+
+“Here it is,” she whispered joyously, “here it has been all the time.”
+Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little hidden
+spring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in,
+revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panel
+swung quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen men
+entered the apartment.
+
+“The devil take them,” cried De Fulm. “Where can they have gone? Surely
+we were right behind them.”
+
+“It is passing strange, My Lord,” replied one of the men. “Let us try
+the floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have not come
+this way.” And the party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment
+empty.
+
+Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand
+still in his.
+
+“Where now?” he asked. “Or do we stay hidden here like frightened
+chicks until the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of
+this musty hole?”
+
+“Wait,” she answered, “until I quiet my nerves a little. I am all
+unstrung.” He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his.
+
+With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his
+arm fell about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be brave
+and powerful; naught can harm you while I am here.
+
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it by
+the sheltering darkness.
+
+“Roger,” she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name. “I
+thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolish
+stubbornness. Canst forgive me?”
+
+“Forgive?” he asked, smiling to himself. “Forgive being given an
+opportunity to fight? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it be
+that I should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly.”
+
+“Do not say that,” she commanded. “Never was such bravery or such
+swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man.”
+
+He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts. The
+feel of her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vague
+caress upon his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned
+against him sent the hot blood coursing through his veins. He was
+puzzled, for he had not dreamed that friendship was so sweet. That she
+did not shrink from his encircling arms should have told him much, but
+Norman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman might look upon him
+with love. Nor had he a thought of any other sentiment toward her than
+that of friend and protector.
+
+And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautiful
+face—Bertrade de Montfort’s—and Norman of Torn was still more puzzled;
+for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within him.
+Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all
+his starved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men
+or women, it is little to be wondered at that he was easily
+impressionable and responsive to the feeling his strong personality had
+awakened in two of England’s fairest daughters.
+
+But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faint
+realization that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendship
+or fear which caused that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him.
+That the responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaintance
+had so quickly reached was not his had never for a moment entered his
+head. To him, the fault was all his; and perhaps it was this quality of
+chivalry that was the finest of the many noble characteristics of his
+sterling character. So his next words were typical of the man; and did
+Joan de Tany love him, or did she not, she learned that night to
+respect and trust him as she respected and trusted few men of her
+acquaintance.
+
+“My Lady,” said Norman of Torn, “we have been through much, and we are
+as little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon our
+acquaintance,” and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, “I ask
+you to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and from
+the pain of the blow upon my head.”
+
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his
+hand and led him forward through a dark, cold corridor.
+
+“We must go carefully now,” she said at last, “for there be stairs
+near.”
+
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps than
+conditions required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward,
+very slowly down a flight of rough stone steps.
+
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being new
+at love, he blundered.
+
+“Joan de Tany,” he said.
+
+“Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?”
+
+“You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me. Tell me that you
+forgive what I have done, an it offended you. I have so few friends,”
+he added sadly, “that I cannot afford to lose such as you.”
+
+“You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany,” she answered.
+“You have won her respect and—and—” But she could not say it and so she
+trailed off lamely—“and undying gratitude.”
+
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he
+dared to let her. He did not, for there was always the vision of
+Bertrade de Montfort before him; and now another vision arose that
+would effectually have sealed his lips had not the other—he saw the
+Outlaw of Torn dangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet.
+
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it,
+and while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for
+him, again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did
+not return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to
+survive the knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany led
+him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a
+large chamber. The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no ray
+of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the
+stillness.
+
+“This be the castle’s crypt,” whispered Joan; “and they do say that
+strange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, and
+that when the castle sleeps, the castle’s dead rise from their coffins
+and shake their dry bones.
+
+“Sh! What was that?” as a rustling noise broke upon their ears close
+upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
+fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn’s arms.
+
+“There is nothing to fear, Joan,” reassured Norman of Torn. “Dead men
+wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think, and
+rats are our only companions here.”
+
+“I am afraid,” she whispered. “If you can make a light, I am sure you
+will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less
+fearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search of
+adventure, we passed through these corridors an hundred times, but
+always by day and with lights.”
+
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. The
+chamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some
+effigies in marble set at intervals about the walls.
+
+“Not such a fearsome place after all,” he said, laughing lightly.
+
+“No place would seem fearsome now,” she answered simply, “were there a
+light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my
+side.”
+
+“Hush, child,” replied the outlaw. “You know not what you say. When you
+know me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde is
+not what you think him. So say no more of praise until we be out of
+this hole, and you safe in your father’s halls.”
+
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to again
+bring the girl’s face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet
+breath upon his cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to
+her.
+
+With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a few
+moments, reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway.
+
+“This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle. We
+have passed beneath the walls and the moat. What may we do now, Roger,
+without horses?”
+
+“Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the
+cover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to
+your father’s castle,” replied Norman of Torn.
+
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch
+upon the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and
+stepped forth into the fresh night air.
+
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had
+there ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it
+was with difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling
+creepers and tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell
+before they had taken a score of steps.
+
+“I fear I am not strong enough,” she said finally. “The way is much
+more difficult than I had thought.”
+
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on
+through the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine.
+It required the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance
+to the roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and
+her hair brushed his cheek. Once when she lifted her head to speak to
+him, he bent toward her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips
+brushed hers. He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint
+sigh breathed from her lips.
+
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mist
+was before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered
+those warm lips with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers,
+closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear
+cut and distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of
+Torn swinging by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside
+it knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels. Her face
+was averted and her arms were outstretched toward the dangling form
+that swung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was racked
+with choking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to
+her feet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her
+features for an instant then—the woman who openly and alone mourned the
+dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan de
+Tany to the ground. In that instant Norman of Torn had learned the
+difference between friendship and love, and love and passion.
+
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyed
+and wondering, toward him. She had felt the wild call of love and she
+could not understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no
+vision beyond a life of happiness within those strong arms.
+
+“Joan,” he said, “I would but now have wronged thee. Forgive me. Forget
+what has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightful
+colors, when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer upon
+us, and then,”—he paused—“and then I shall tell you who I be and you
+shall say if you still care to call me friend—no more than that shall I
+ask.”
+
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort, but it had been a thousand times better had he done so.
+
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from the
+surrounding shadows, calling upon them to surrender. The moonlight
+falling upon the leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with an
+enormous, bristling mustache—it was Shandy.
+
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+
+“It is I, Shandy,” he said. “Keep a still tongue in thy head until I
+speak with thee apart. Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be friends.”
+
+Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow had
+become alarmed at his chief’s continued absence, and had set out with a
+small party to search for him. They had come upon the riderless Sir
+Mortimer grazing by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, had
+discovered evidences of the conflict at the cross-roads. There they had
+found Norman of Torn’s helmet, confirming their worst fears. A peasant
+in a nearby hut had told them of the encounter, and had set them upon
+the road taken by the Earl and his prisoners.
+
+“And here we be, My Lord,” concluded the great fellow.
+
+“How many are you?” asked the outlaw.
+
+“Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes.”
+
+“Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us,” said the
+chief. “And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night
+with the Outlaw of Torn.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany.
+
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprang
+out of the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, a
+gentleman of France.
+
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where had
+she seen that mighty frame before? And now she looked closely at the
+figure of Roger de Conde. Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two
+men together; but where and when?
+
+And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind. Roger de
+Conde spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words
+upon this man’s lips as he addressed the red giant.
+
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who had
+picked it up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with lowered
+visor, as was his custom.
+
+There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the
+moonlight touched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who
+rode behind him, a little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, and
+a great shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+
+“Open! Open for My Lady Joan.”
+
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle and
+excitement. A dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out
+still others without waiting for replies.
+
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fully
+clothed, having not lain down during the whole night. They fairly fell
+upon Joan and Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+
+“Come, come,” said the Baron, “let us go within. You must be fair
+famished for good food and drink.”
+
+“I will ride, My Lord,” replied Norman of Torn. “I have a little matter
+of business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham. Business which I
+fear will not wait.”
+
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence. Nor did she urge him to remain, as
+he raised her hand to his lips in farewell. So Norman of Torn rode out
+of the courtyard; and as his men fell in behind him under the first
+rays of the drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched them through
+the gate, and a great light broke upon her, for what she saw was the
+same as she had seen a few days since when she had turned in her saddle
+to watch the retreating forms of the cut-throats of Torn as they rode
+on after halting her father’s party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through the
+ravine below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his
+headquarters; while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods before
+the grim pile.
+
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the little
+door through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before. Following
+the corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stone
+stairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the false panel that
+had given the two fugitives egress.
+
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartment followed
+closely by his henchmen. On they went, through apartment after
+apartment, but no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their
+search, and it was soon apparent that the castle was deserted.
+
+As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man basking
+in the sun, upon a bench. The sight of them nearly caused the old
+fellow to die of fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the
+untenanted halls was well reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek.
+
+When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had ridden
+out early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was. The
+outlaw knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was
+his anger against this man, that he ordered his band to mount, and
+spurring to their head, he marched through Middlesex, and crossing the
+Thames above London, entered Surrey late the same afternoon.
+
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between London
+and Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham,
+having sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of a
+royalist baron, whose husband was with Prince Edward’s forces.
+
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady’s
+household who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she had
+done him. When, therefore, he found that these grim men were searching
+for De Fulm, he saw a way to be revenged upon his mistress.
+
+“How many swords be there at the castle?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham,” replied the knave;
+“and, furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you, My
+Lord, so that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and
+the Earl be supping.”
+
+“Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn. “We
+shall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl of
+Buckingham.”
+
+Half an hour’s ride brought them within sight of the castle.
+Dismounting, and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman of
+Torn advanced on foot with Shandy and the eight others, close in the
+wake of the traitorous servant.
+
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush,
+he had hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat and
+rested its farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the
+ground.
+
+“Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy,” said the outlaw, “till all be
+in, an’ if there be any signs of treachery, stick him through the
+gizzard—death thus be slower and more painful.”
+
+So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge,
+and disappeared within the window beyond. One by one the band of
+cut-throats passed through the little window, until all stood within
+the castle beside their chief; Shandy coming last with the servant.
+
+“Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups,” said Norman
+of Torn. “You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my being
+interrupted.”
+
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthily
+across the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left the
+little room, this figure pushed quietly through the window and followed
+the great outlaw down the unlighted corridor.
+
+A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon the
+grim figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the great
+dining hall.
+
+“My Lord Earl!” she cried. “Look! Behind you.”
+
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him, he overturned the
+bench upon which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord
+Earl of Buckingham had a guilty conscience.
+
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword.
+
+“A moment, My Lord,” said a low voice in perfect French.
+
+“Who are you?” cried the lady.
+
+“I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little
+story.
+
+“In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of
+England held by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when
+she spurned his advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her
+fair face, and with his brute hands choked her. And in that castle also
+was a despised and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose
+neck the hempen noose has been yawning these many years. And it was
+this vile person who came in time to save the young woman from the
+noble flower of knighthood that would have ruined her young life.
+
+“The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to the
+noble’s rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest
+he be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the hands
+of her tormentor.
+
+“But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl,
+he must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in
+full the toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and
+violence done her.
+
+“My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord the
+Earl of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the
+duty he has sworn to do. En garde, My Lord!”
+
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he
+had been looking through a haze of blood for hours—in fact every time
+he had thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de
+Tany and of the cruel blow that had fallen upon her face.
+
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a corner of
+the room, and when he had him there where he could escape in no
+direction, he drove his blade so deep through his putrid heart that the
+point buried itself an inch in the oak panel beyond.
+
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was
+witnessing, and, as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead
+body before him and wiped it on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in
+awful fascination while he drew his dagger and made a mark upon the
+forehead of the dead nobleman.
+
+“Outlaw or Devil,” said a stern voice behind them, “Roger Leybourn owes
+you his friendship for saving the honor of his home.”
+
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway
+where Norman of Torn had first appeared.
+
+“Roger!” shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+
+“Who be you?” continued the master of Leybourn addressing the outlaw.
+
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl of
+Buckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+“I owe you much. You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast,
+and Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman
+of Torn.”
+
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+
+“You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper.
+I have eaten but once in forty-eight hours.”
+
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain on
+watch, but to interfere with no one within the castle.
+
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who had
+recovered from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor
+lay the body of De Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, and
+had hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half an
+hour before the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity to
+enter unobserved by the servants. It was he who had followed across the
+ladder after Shandy.
+
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for the
+first time within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at
+the house of a gentleman.
+
+The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to his
+camp started on his homeward march toward Torn.
+
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs of
+London, they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at a
+small party of gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were
+waxing brave to lay violent hands upon the party. Mud and rocks and
+rotten vegetables were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of
+them barely missing the women of the party.
+
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thick
+of it laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and his
+men, catching the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole
+pack of attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, he
+continued on his march toward the north.
+
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after the
+retreating figures of their deliverers. Then one of the ladies turned
+to a knight at her side with a word of command and an imperious gesture
+toward the fast disappearing company. He, thus addressed, put spurs to
+his horse, and rode at a rapid gallop after the outlaw’s troop. In a
+few moments he had overtaken them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.
+
+“Hold, Sir Knight,” cried the gentleman, “the Queen would thank you in
+person for your brave defence of her.”
+
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his
+horse and rode back with the Queen’s messenger.
+
+As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel.
+
+“You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen’s
+life that you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but
+driven a pack of curs from annoying a stray cat,” said the Queen.
+
+“I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of
+a queen.”
+
+“What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed? The
+King, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me
+your name.”
+
+“If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang me,”
+laughed the outlaw. “I be Norman of Torn.”
+
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none
+of them had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry
+of England feared and hated.
+
+“For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the King has
+pardoned men before,” replied Her Majesty. “But raise your visor, I
+would look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a
+gentleman and a loyal protector of his queen.”
+
+“They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends,” replied
+Norman of Torn quietly, “have never lived to tell what they saw beneath
+this visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year to
+fear it might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil of
+Torn lifted from his face.” Without another word he wheeled and
+galloped back to his little army.
+
+“The puppy, the insolent puppy,” cried Eleanor of England, in a rage.
+
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a period
+of twenty years.
+
+Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces
+of Torn from their Essex camp back to Derby. The numerous raiding
+parties which had been constantly upon the road during the days they
+had spent in this rich district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts
+with rich and valuable booty and the men, for the time satiated with
+fighting and loot, turned their faces toward Torn with evident
+satisfaction.
+
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the old
+man of Torn.
+
+“Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrow
+morning. I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand,
+and, as I shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join you
+tomorrow.”
+
+“Do not forget, My Lord,” said Edwild the Serf, a great yellow-haired
+Saxon giant, “that there be a party of the King’s troops camped close
+by the road which branches to Tany.”
+
+“I shall give them plenty of room,” replied Norman of Torn. “My neck
+itcheth not to be stretched,” and he laughed and mounted.
+
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo the
+Spaniard, sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest,
+mounted and spurred rapidly after him. The camp, in the throes of
+packing refractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling their own
+wild mounts, did not notice his departure. Only the little grim, gray,
+old man knew that he had gone, or why, or whither.
+
+That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richard
+de Tany and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming of
+the Lady Joan, a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of
+the King’s soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany.
+
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred back
+in the direction from which he had come.
+
+And this was what he read:
+
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort.
+
+Instantly the call “to arms” and “mount” sounded through the camp and,
+in five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great
+reward and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw
+who was now almost within his clutches.
+
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King’s
+soldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Norman of
+Torn from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest
+through Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited
+composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.
+
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of the
+period; a beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressed
+excitement which caused the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her
+cheek, and her breasts to rise and fall above her fast beating heart.
+
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and
+then they stood looking into each other’s eyes in silence for a long
+moment.
+
+“I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell,” he said
+sadly. “I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the
+temptation to be with you and those whom you typify must be my excuse.
+I—” He paused. It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn,
+but if she loved him, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he
+loved only Bertrade de Montfort?
+
+“You need tell me nothing,” interrupted Joan de Tany. “I have guessed
+what you would tell me, Norman of Torn. ‘The spell of moonlight and
+adventure is no longer upon us’—those are your own words, and still I
+am glad to call you friend.”
+
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality of
+her decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend to
+her.
+
+“It is best,” he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt no
+love for him now that she knew him for what he really was. “Nothing
+good could come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim
+more of you than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind
+and for my own, we will let it be as though you had never known me. I
+thank you that you have not been angry with me. Remember me only to
+think that in the hills of Derby, a sword is at your service, without
+reward and without price. Should you ever need it, Joan, tell me that
+you will send for me—wilt promise me that, Joan?”
+
+“I promise, Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Farewell,” he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his knee
+to the ground in reverence. Then he rose to go, pressing a little
+packet into her palm. Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief
+instant, deep in the azure depths of the girl’s that which tumbled the
+structure of his new-found complacency about his ears.
+
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which led
+northwest toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for he
+realized two things. One was that the girl he had left still loved him,
+and that some day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she had
+sent him away; and the other was that he did not love her, that his
+heart was locked in the fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and the
+aching sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl’s
+life. That he had been new to women and newer still to love did not
+permit him to excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly
+and stupidity, and what he thought was fickleness.
+
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to know
+without question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade de
+Montfort’s lips would always be more to him than all the allurements
+possessed by the balance of the women of the world, no matter how
+charming, or how beautiful.
+
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that the
+attitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was but
+the attitude which the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good woman
+of her class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Montfort when she
+learned that Roger de Conde was Norman of Torn.
+
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere
+the girl, who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing
+with strangely drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw
+a body of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south.
+
+The King’s banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de
+Tany knew for whom they sought at her father’s castle. Quickly she
+hastened to the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their
+hail rather than one of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King’s
+men drew rein before the castle.
+
+In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission.
+
+“We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this castle,”
+replied the officer.
+
+“There be no outlaw here,” replied the girl, “but, if you wish, you may
+enter with half a dozen men and search the castle.”
+
+This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman of
+Torn was not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain
+that the Outlaw of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King’s
+men; so she said:
+
+“There was one here just before you came who called himself though by
+another name than Norman of Torn. Possibly it is he ye seek.”
+
+“Which way rode he?” cried the officer.
+
+“Straight toward the west by the middle road,” lied Joan de Tany. And,
+as the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back,
+galloped furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon a
+bench, pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, and
+within found two others. In one of these was a beautiful jeweled
+locket, and on the outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the
+initials NT; in the other was a golden hair ornament set with precious
+stones, and about it was wound a strand of her own silken tresses.
+
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them against
+her lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her lithe
+young form racked with sobs.
+
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds of
+caste to a false ideal. Birth and station spelled honor to her, and
+honor, to the daughter of an English noble, was a mightier force even
+than love.
+
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that he
+was, according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassable
+barrier between them.
+
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her raged
+the mighty battle of the heart against the head.
+
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her arms
+about the girl’s neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause of
+her sorrow. Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing
+heart; that wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not even a
+mother’s love could check.
+
+“Joan, my dear daughter,” cried Lady de Tany, “I sorrow with thee that
+thy love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore. But it be
+better that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take
+my word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance must
+needs have brought upon thee and thy father’s house would soon have
+cooled thy love; nor could his have survived the sneers and affronts
+even the menials would have put upon him.”
+
+“Oh, mother, but I love him so,” moaned the girl. “I did not know how
+much until he had gone, and the King’s officer had come to search for
+him, and then the thought that all the power of a great throne and the
+mightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against him
+raised the hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my love
+surged through all my being. Mother, thou canst not know the honor, and
+the bravery, and the chivalry of the man as I do. Not since Arthur of
+Silures kept his round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so
+true a knight as Norman of Torn.
+
+“Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed the
+honor of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignified
+respect in which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too,
+and felt that outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentleman than
+nine-tenths the nobles of England.”
+
+“But his birth, my daughter!” argued the Lady de Tany. “Some even say
+that the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck,
+and others that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor
+had he any mother.”
+
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught could the girl say to
+justify so heinous a crime as low birth. What a man did in those rough
+cruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother
+or his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter howsoever
+wickedly attained, he might never overcome or live down.
+
+Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her own
+apartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild,
+impossible hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long,
+bitter night; until toward morning she solved the problem of her misery
+in the only way that seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding,
+little heart. When the rising sun shone through the narrow window, it
+found Joan de Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden hilt
+of the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded from her breast, and a
+thin line of crimson ran across the snowy skin to a little pool upon
+the sheet beneath her.
+
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush
+another innocent victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could tell
+from outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad
+intelligence wrought on the master of Torn.
+
+All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders
+were issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south
+toward Essex without other halt than for necessary food and water for
+man and beast.
+
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father’s castle to
+the church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final
+resting place in the castle’s crypt, a thousand strange and silent
+knights, black draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind
+the bier.
+
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as
+silently, they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the
+following night.
+
+No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of
+sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn
+had come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and
+all but the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.
+
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young
+leader turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door
+of Father Claude’s cottage.
+
+“I am tired, Father,” said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his
+accustomed bench. “Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps.
+I and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight
+falleth.”
+
+“Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late. Seek out
+a new and better life in another country and carve thy future into the
+semblance of glory and honor.”
+
+“Would that I might, my friend,” answered Norman of Torn. “But hast
+thou thought on the consequences which surely would follow should I
+thus remove both heart and head from the thing that I have built?
+
+“What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his great
+band of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England? Hast thought on’t,
+Father?
+
+“Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild the
+Serf were ranging unchecked through Derby? Edwild, whose father was
+torn limb from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to
+killing a buck in the new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of
+another man; Edwild, whose mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy
+Church.
+
+“And Horsan the Dane, Father. How thinkest thou the safety of the roads
+would be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon
+ye?
+
+“And Pensilo, the Spanish Don! A great captain, but a man absolutely
+without bowels of compassion. When first he joined us and saw our mark
+upon the foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked
+the living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron, branding a
+great P upon each cheek and burning out the right eye completely.
+Wouldst like to feel, Father, that Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged
+free through forest and hill of England?
+
+“And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One Eye
+Kanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the
+thousand others, each with a special hatred for some particular class
+or individual, and all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and
+loot.
+
+“No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to
+hate, I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn
+loose upon her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order
+or decency other than that which I enforce.”
+
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many
+minutes.
+
+“Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son,” he said at last.
+“Thou canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of
+England, but even that may be possible; who knows other than God?”
+
+“For my part,” laughed the outlaw, “I be willing to leave it in His
+hands; which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirk
+a responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the
+Lord.”
+
+“I fear, my son,” said the priest, “that what seed of reverence I have
+attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit.”
+
+“That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord into
+partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and
+poor spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may be
+wrong, for I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of
+God and scapegoat be not that they are synonymous.”
+
+“Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends,”
+replied the priest, “and further, there be that nearer my heart just
+now which I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean
+to. The question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom
+thou call father?”
+
+“I know of no treachery,” replied the outlaw, “which he hath ever
+conceived against me. Why?”
+
+“I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meet
+me and two others here upon an important matter. I have learned that he
+expects to be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week.
+He is to notify me when he will come and I shall then send for thee and
+the old man of Torn; but it were as well, my son, that thou do not
+mention this matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou come
+hither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be present.”
+
+“As you say, Father,” replied Norman of Torn. “I do not make head nor
+tail of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so
+is sufficient. I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell.”
+
+Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himself
+with occasional pillages against the royalists of the surrounding
+counties, and his patrols so covered the public highways that it became
+a matter of grievous import to the King’s party, for no one was safe in
+the district who even so much as sympathized with the King’s cause, and
+many were the dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil of
+Torn.
+
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it now
+seemed a matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grisly
+banner would be found on their side.
+
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent in
+rough, wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sit
+at table singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in
+through the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo,
+tired of the din and racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawn
+sword and laid upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce the
+authority of his commands to disperse.
+
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, but
+when minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair,
+the Outlaw of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter’s dull
+monotony to as late an hour as another; nor could any man of his great
+fierce horde outdrink their chief when he cared to indulge in the
+pleasures of the wine cup. The only effect that liquor seemed to have
+upon him was to increase his desire to fight, so that he was wont to
+pick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for the slightest, or
+for no provocation at all. So, for this reason, he drank but seldom
+since he always regretted the things he did under the promptings of
+that other self which only could assert its ego when reason was
+threatened with submersion.
+
+Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from
+the wild, roving lives of its own members. Tales of adventure, love,
+war and death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains
+told, each, his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with
+fighting enough by day to keep them good humored, the winter passed,
+and spring came with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with
+soft zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.
+
+Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear from
+Simon de Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message which
+told the good priest that his letter had missed the great baron and had
+followed him around until he had but just received it. The message
+closed with these words:
+
+“Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledge
+of the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give
+our best attention. Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we
+shall visit thee, good father, on the fifth day from today.”
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort’s man leave the note with
+Father Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl on
+his table, so that when the good father left his cottage, it was the
+matter of but a moment’s work for Spizo to transfer the message from
+its hiding place to the breast of his tunic. The fellow could not read,
+but he to whom he took the missive could, laboriously, decipher the
+Latin in which it was penned.
+
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the full
+purport of this letter flashed upon him. It had been years since he had
+heard aught of the search for the little lost prince of England, and
+now that the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now that
+more and more often opportunities were opening up to him to wreak the
+last shred of his terrible vengeance, the very thought of being
+thwarted at the final moment staggered his comprehension.
+
+“On the fifth day,” he repeated. “That is the day on which we were to
+ride south again. Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not
+talk with thee, thou fool priest.”
+
+That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein before
+the walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:
+
+“A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace of
+God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of
+Torn. Open, in the name of the King!”
+
+Norman of Torn directed that the King’s messenger be admitted, and the
+knight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle.
+
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered.
+
+The bearing of the King’s officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a
+man of birth when dealing with a low born knave.
+
+“His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah,” he said, withdrawing
+a parchment from his breast. “And, as you doubtless cannot read, I will
+read the King’s commands to you.”
+
+“I can read,” replied Norman of Torn, “whatever the King can write.
+Unless it be,” he added, “that the King writes no better than he
+rules.”
+
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+
+“It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of our
+gracious King. If he were less generous, he would have sent you a
+halter rather than this message which I bear.”
+
+“A bridle for thy tongue, my friend,” replied Norman of Torn, “were in
+better taste than a halter for my neck. But come, let us see what the
+King writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn.”
+
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:
+
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of
+Aquitaine; to Norman of Torn:
+
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing and
+plundering the persons and property of our faithful lieges!!!!!
+
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God,
+do command that you cease these nefarious practices!!!!!
+
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, Queen
+Eleanor, we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes!!!!!
+
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the
+fighting men, your followers, prepared to protect the security of our
+person, and wage war upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort,
+Gilbert de Clare and their accomplices, who even now are collected to
+threaten and menace our person and kingdom!!!!!
+
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your long
+unpunished crimes. Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in the
+forty-eighth year of our reign.
+
+HENRY, REX.
+
+“The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded,” said Norman of Torn,
+“for because of it shall the King’s messenger eat the King’s message,
+and thus take back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn.” And
+crumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the royal
+emissary.
+
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was even
+quicker, so that it seemed that the King’s messenger had deliberately
+hurled his weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm
+him.
+
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful hand
+and, despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, bent
+him back upon the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the
+point of his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King’s message down the
+knight’s throat; wax, parchment and all.
+
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn a
+half hour later and spurred rapidly—in his head a more civil tongue.
+
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea and
+reported the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearing
+by all the saints in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for
+his effrontery before the snow flew again.
+
+News of the fighting between the barons and the King’s forces at
+Rochester, Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a
+few days after the coming of the King’s message, but at the same time
+came other news which hastened his departure toward the south. This
+latter word was that Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied
+by Prince Philip, had landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had
+come Peter of Colfax back to England—the latter, doubtless reassured by
+the strong conviction, which held in the minds of all royalists at that
+time, of the certainty of victory for the royal arms in the impending
+conflict with the rebel barons.
+
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfort
+once again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity.
+He knew what the result must be. His experience with Joan de Tany had
+taught him that. But the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated
+all his acts where the happiness or honor of women were concerned urged
+him to give himself over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman’s
+pride, that it might be she who spurned and rejected; for, as it must
+appear now, it had been he whose love had grown cold. It was a bitter
+thing to contemplate, for not alone would the mighty pride of the man
+be lacerated, but a great love.
+
+Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reported
+to the old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman
+of Torn to come with his father to the priest’s cottage the morning of
+the march to meet Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what
+the nature of the thing was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more than
+aught he had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that the
+priest had not as yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the
+Outlaw of Torn.
+
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south, a
+little, wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of Father
+Claude. No man knows what words passed between the good priest and his
+visitor nor the details of what befell within the four walls of the
+little cottage that night; but some half hour only elapsed before the
+little, grim, gray man emerged from the darkened interior and hastened
+upward upon the rocky trail into the hills, a cold smile of
+satisfaction on his lips.
+
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparation
+early the following morning, for by eight o’clock the column was to
+march. The courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys. War
+horses were being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed to
+great posts, were being laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings
+of the men; while those already packed were wandering loose among the
+other animals and men. There was squealing, biting, kicking, and
+cursing as animals fouled one another with their loads, or brushed
+against some tethered war horse.
+
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to don
+armor, lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, and
+rondel; buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg. The open forges of
+armorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvil
+rose above the thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the
+shouting of commands, the rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on
+stone flags, as these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing,
+through the eleventh hour repairs to armor, lance and sword, or to
+reset a shoe upon a refractory, plunging beast.
+
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some
+semblance of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam. First the sumpter
+beasts, all loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs
+below the castle and there held to await the column. Then, one by one,
+the companies were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon and
+waving banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
+
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction
+which hurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the
+walls of beleaguered castles.
+
+And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and
+the little old man walked side by side from the castle building and
+mounted their chargers held by two squires in the center of the
+courtyard.
+
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as
+the two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of
+Torn, saying,
+
+“I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son. Father Claude
+sent word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and that
+some appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred until
+later. He said that you would understand.” The old man eyed his
+companion narrowly through the eye slit in his helm.
+
+“’Tis passing strange,” said Norman of Torn but that was his only
+comment. And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward
+the valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of
+Torn saw that the door was closed and that there was no sign of life
+about the place. A wave of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted
+aspect of the little flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a
+near future without the beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
+
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge
+of the valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the
+south by another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over
+and drew rein before the cottage of Father Claude.
+
+As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter
+the building.
+
+“Have a care, My Lord,” cried his companion. “This be over-close to the
+Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in the
+message which called thee thither.”
+
+“Fear not,” replied Simon de Montfort, “the Devil of Torn hath no
+quarrel with me.” Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the
+door. Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim
+light of the interior. There he found his host, the good father Claude,
+stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes
+dark with dried and clotted blood.
+
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his
+companions.
+
+“The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden
+for a man to carry,” he said. “But this convinces me more than any
+words the priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in
+England, and possibly Prince Richard also.”
+
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked
+thoroughly by the assassin. The contents of drawer and box littered
+every room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced
+by many pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched.
+
+“The true object lies here,” said De Montfort, pointing to the open
+hearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents.
+“All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here
+beneath the table?” and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up a
+sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced. It was
+addressed to him, and he read it aloud:
+
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our
+meeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either
+its contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+
+He who beareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince
+Richard. Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as
+positive as I.
+
+Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know
+the wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men
+call!!!!!
+
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the
+assassin.
+
+“Mon Dieu! The damnable luck!” cried De Montfort, “but a second more
+and the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.
+Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend
+incarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of
+Lady Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames? The Devil himself must
+watch o’er him.
+
+“There be naught more we can do here,” he continued. “I should have
+been on my way to Fletching hours since. Come, my gentlemen, we will
+ride south by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to
+the decent burial of this holy man.”
+
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away. Noon found them at Leicester,
+and three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+
+At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed
+the last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father
+Claude and consigned his clay to the churchyard.
+
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance
+which had been born in the King’s armory twenty years before passed
+from the eyes of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly south
+on the road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing
+for its advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son Prince
+Edward, and his brother, Prince Richard, King of the Romans, together
+with the latter’s son, were entrenched with their forces, sixty
+thousand strong.
+
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons’ army set
+out from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marching
+through dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city,
+unobserved.
+
+From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valley
+Combe, the projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march from
+the town. The King’s party, however, had no suspicion that an attack
+was imminent and, in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial
+troops, had spent the preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they
+were quite taken by surprise.
+
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of the
+hill in advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army that
+the soldiers, growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward
+morning, and returned to town, leaving but a single man on watch. He,
+left alone, had promptly fallen asleep, and thus De Montfort’s men
+found and captured him within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of
+Lewes, where the King and his royal allies lay peacefully asleep, after
+their night of wine and dancing and song.
+
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial army
+would doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but it
+happened that, the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party
+to ride forth at daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were
+low.
+
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into
+the hands of the baronial troops. Though some few were killed or
+captured, those who escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army
+of the royalists to the close proximity and gravity of their danger.
+
+By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort’s army were in full
+view of the town. On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de
+Segrave; in the center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William
+de Monchensy, at the head of a large division which occupied that
+branch of the hill which descended a gentle, unbroken slope to the
+town. The right wing was commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son
+of Simon de Montfort, and with him was the third son, Guy, as well as
+John de Burgh and Humphrey de Bohun. The reserves were under Simon de
+Montfort himself.
+
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and his
+party, which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort;
+so that brother faced brother, and father fought against son, on that
+bloody Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes.
+
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and,
+as he issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners and
+pennons streaming in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade
+scintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and
+impressive spectacle as he hurled himself upon the Londoners, whom he
+had selected for attack because of the affront they had put upon his
+mother that day at London on the preceding July.
+
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotected
+burghers, unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before the
+iron men on their iron shod horses. The long lances, the heavy maces,
+the six-bladed battle axes, and the well-tempered swords of the knights
+played havoc among them, so that the rout was complete; but, not
+content with victory, Prince Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he
+pursued the citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of them, while
+many more were drowned in attempting to escape across the Ouse.
+
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and
+his gallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined
+resistance at the hands of Henry de Montfort.
+
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, and
+thus the battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantage
+appearing to lie with the King’s troops. Had Edward not gone so far
+afield in pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might easily have been
+on the side of the royalists early in the day, but by thus eliminating
+his division after defeating a part of De Montfort’s army, it was as
+though neither of these two forces had been engaged.
+
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centered
+the fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills. He had
+caused his car to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many
+of his leaders, under a small guard, so that the banners there
+displayed, together with the car, led the King of the Romans to believe
+that the Earl himself lay there, for Simon de Montfort had but a month
+or so before suffered an injury to his hip when his horse fell with
+him, and the royalists were not aware that he had recovered
+sufficiently to again mount a horse.
+
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed back
+the men of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car came
+the royalists until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults
+against the old Earl and commanding him to come forth. And when they
+had killed the occupants of the car, they found that Simon de Montfort
+was not among them, but instead he had fastened there three important
+citizens of London, old men and influential, who had opposed him, and
+aided and abetted the King.
+
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, that he
+fell upon the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly but
+steadily beat them back from the town.
+
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy’s left wing by
+Prince Edward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two
+remaining divisions took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that,
+what a moment before had hung in the balance, now seemed an assured
+victory for King Henry.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the melee with
+all their reserves. No longer was there semblance of organization.
+Division was inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe
+formed a jumbled confusion of fighting, cursing chaos, over which
+whipped the angry pennons and banners of England’s noblest houses.
+
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that the
+King’s arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been had
+not a new element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow
+of the hill to the north of them appeared a great horde of armored
+knights, and as they came into position where they could view the
+battle, the leader raised his sword on high, and, as one man, the
+thousand broke into a mad charge.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon this
+body of fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements. Who might
+they be? To which side owned they allegiance? And, then, as the black
+falcon wing on the banners of the advancing horsemen became
+distinguishable, they saw that it was the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, the
+wild battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned the
+hopes of the royalists cold within their breasts.
+
+“For De Montfort! For De Montfort!” and “Down with Henry!” rang loud
+and clear above the din of battle.
+
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance that
+the King himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety of
+Lewes.
+
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it was
+that Norman of Torn found him barricaded. When the door was broken
+down, the outlaw entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own
+hand to the feet of De Montfort, and would have put him to death had
+not the Earl intervened.
+
+“I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King,” said Norman of
+Torn, “and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl,
+his life shall be yours to do with as you see fit.”
+
+“You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn,” replied De Montfort.
+“Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not mar the
+record of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity.”
+
+“It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead,”
+retorted the outlaw.
+
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple
+truth.
+
+“How comes it, Norman of Torn,” asked De Montfort as they rode together
+toward Lewes, “that you threw the weight of your sword upon the side of
+the barons? Be it because you hate the King more?”
+
+“I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl,” replied the outlaw.
+“I have been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should hate
+was never told me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to my
+maturer years.
+
+“As for why I fought as I did today,” he continued, “it be because the
+heart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side. Had it been
+with the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than he
+has this day. So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude.
+Tomorrow I may be pillaging your friends as of yore.”
+
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of his
+lowered visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath.
+
+“You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn,” said the Earl
+coldly, “and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot
+you. An English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France,
+does not have much thought to waste upon highwaymen.” His tone, as well
+as his words were studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung
+the pride of this haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted
+the friendship of his daughter.
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seen
+his face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred and
+resentment, the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines of
+pain and sorrow; for he read in the attitude of the father what he
+might expect to receive at the hands of the daughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fled
+precipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory,
+the city was turned over to looting and rapine. In this, Norman of Torn
+and his men did not participate, but camped a little apart from the
+town until daybreak the following morning, when they started east,
+toward Dover.
+
+They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty
+miles out of their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold. The
+troops stationed there had fled, having been apprised some few hours
+earlier, by fugitives, of the defeat of Henry’s army at Lewes.
+
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, finding
+it entirely deserted, continued his eastward march. Some few miles
+farther on, he overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and
+from them he easily, by dint of threats, elicited the information he
+desired: the direction taken by the refugees from the deserted castle,
+their number, and as close a description of the party as the soldiers
+could give.
+
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, this time
+heading northward into Kent. It was dark before he reached his
+destination, and saw before him the familiar outlines of the castle of
+Roger de Leybourn. This time, the outlaw threw his fierce horde
+completely around the embattled pile before he advanced with a score of
+sturdy ruffians to reconnoiter.
+
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hope
+for stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the great
+building and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladder
+that Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudia
+unearth, that the outlaw might visit the Earl of Buckingham,
+unannounced.
+
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raise
+it to the sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood beside
+their chief within the walls of Leybourn.
+
+Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castle
+until a maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a sudden
+corner and bumped full into the Outlaw of Torn. With a shriek that
+might have been heard at Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone
+floor and, turning, ran, still shrieking at the top of her lungs,
+straight for the great dining hall.
+
+So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had the
+guests arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of
+the girl than Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty
+drawn swords at his back.
+
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants and
+men-at-arms. Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of
+the party saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a
+blow could be struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right
+hand, raised his left aloft in a gesture for silence.
+
+“Hold!” he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn, “I have
+no quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest within thy
+halls. Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as didst
+thy fair lady.”
+
+“Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, and
+makes bold to insult my guests?” demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+
+“Who be I! If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yon
+grinning baboon,” replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at one
+who had been seated close to De Leybourn.
+
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlaw
+indicated, and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man. With
+livid face he stood, leaning for support against the table; his craven
+knees wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apart
+against his yellow teeth in a horrid grimace of awful fear.
+
+“If you recognize me not, Sir Roger,” said Norman of Torn, drily, “it
+is evident that your honored guest hath a better memory.”
+
+At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes
+never left the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he
+addressed the master of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated
+falsetto:
+
+“Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him! Do you wish to live
+another moment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn,
+and there be a great price upon his head.
+
+“Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me,” he ended in a
+pitiful wail.
+
+The Devil of Torn! How that name froze the hearts of the assembled
+guests.
+
+The Devil of Torn! Slowly the men standing there at the board of Sir
+Roger de Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name.
+
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of a
+sepulchre, and then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table.
+She had seen the mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her
+mate.
+
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+
+“Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls of
+Leybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great service
+for the house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest.
+But a moment since, you said that you had no quarrel with me. Then why
+be you here? Speak! Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the master
+of Leybourn greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand
+or naked sword?”
+
+“I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me.
+And when I go, I take part of him with me. I be in a great hurry, so I
+would prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, without
+interference; but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong
+within your walls, and nigh a thousand lie without. What say you, My
+Lord?”
+
+“Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that you
+search him out thus within a day’s ride from the army of the King who
+has placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who be
+equally your enemies.”
+
+“I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax,” replied the outlaw.
+“What my grievance be matters not. Norman of Torn acts first and
+explains afterward, if he cares to explain at all. Come forth, Peter of
+Colfax, and for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may save
+your friends here from the fate that has found you at last after two
+years of patient waiting.”
+
+Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to the
+center of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made;
+the men of the party forming a circle, in the center of which stood
+Peter of Colfax and Norman of Torn.
+
+“Give him a great draught of brandy,” said the outlaw, “or he will sink
+down and choke in the froth of his own terror.”
+
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter of
+Colfax regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his sword
+arm and defend himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and
+the primal instinct of self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a
+more and more creditable fight, until those who watched thought that he
+might indeed have a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn. But they did
+not know that Norman of Torn was but playing with his victim, that he
+might make the torture long, drawn out, and wreak as terrible a
+punishment upon Peter of Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron had
+visited upon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield to his
+base desires.
+
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of the
+fascinating drama that was being enacted before them.
+
+“God, what a swordsman!” muttered one.
+
+“Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword was drawn
+from the first scabbard!” replied Roger de Leybourn. “Is it not
+marvellous!”
+
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces;
+little by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for loss of
+blood, the man was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch his
+victim’s face with his gleaming sword. That he was saving for the
+fulfillment of his design.
+
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was no
+marrowless antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn. Furiously he
+fought; in the extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with
+frenzied agony. Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow.
+
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like,
+in his victim’s face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a
+thin vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to ooze
+ere another swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow to
+parallel the first.
+
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax,
+until the watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the seal
+of death, in letters of blood—NT.
+
+It was the end. Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like the
+maniac he had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw
+of Torn was upon his brow. Now, shrieking and gibbering through his
+frothy lips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed
+full upon Norman of Torn. There was a flash of the great sword as the
+outlaw swung it to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that
+passed above the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the grinning head
+rolled upon the floor, while the loathsome carcass, that had been a
+baron of England, sunk in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the
+great hall of the castle of Leybourn.
+
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests. Some one broke
+into hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn,
+wiping his blade upon the rushes of the floor as he had done upon
+another occasion in that same hall, spoke quietly to the master of
+Leybourn.
+
+“I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or a
+mightier one in its stead.”
+
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few words
+of instructions, to one of his men.
+
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it upon
+the golden platter.
+
+“I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality,” said Norman of Torn,
+with a low bow which included the spellbound guests. “Adieu.” Thus
+followed by his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the
+platter of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and from
+the castle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain of
+many days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into camp
+that night; nor did he again take up his march until the second
+morning, three days after the battle of Lewes.
+
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester’s castle, where he
+had reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though
+it galled his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting
+his coming, he could not do less than that which he felt his honor
+demanded.
+
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the
+wiry, gray little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father.
+
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, had the
+old fellow changed in all these years. Without bodily vices, and
+clinging ever to the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was
+still young in muscle and endurance.
+
+For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but he
+constantly practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so that
+it had become a subject often discussed among the men as to which of
+the two, father or son, was the greater swordsman.
+
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence. Long since
+had Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character and
+masterful ways, the position of authority in the castle of Torn. The
+old man simply rode and fought with the others when it pleased him; and
+he had come on this trip because he felt that there was that impending
+for which he had waited over twenty years.
+
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called “my
+son.” If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one of
+pride which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil’s
+mighty sword arm.
+
+The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guard
+halted a party bound south upon a crossroad. There were some twenty or
+thirty men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights.
+
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of the
+party was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently a
+person of distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+
+“Who are you,” said the gentleman, in French, “that stops a prince of
+France upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal? Are you
+of the King’s forces, or De Montfort’s?”
+
+“Be this Prince Philip of France?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“Yes, but who be you?”
+
+“And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?” continued the
+outlaw, ignoring the Prince’s question.
+
+“Yes, an it be any of your affair,” replied Philip curtly.
+
+“It be,” said the Devil of Torn, “for I be a friend of My Lady
+Bertrade, and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands
+of roving soldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on
+with so small an escort. Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de
+Montfort ride with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur
+may arrive there safely.”
+
+“It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget. But,
+again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France?”
+
+“Norman of Torn, they call me,” replied the outlaw.
+
+“Indeed!” cried Philip. “The great and bloody outlaw?” Upon his
+handsome face there was no look of fear or repugnance.
+
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+
+“Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for
+himself,” he said, “if he rides in such company?”
+
+“My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than saint,”
+said the Prince. “They have told me of how you saved the daughter of De
+Montfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you,
+and to thank you. It had been my intention to ride to Torn for that
+purpose so soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all our
+plans by his victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simon
+de Montfort and the King are to be today. The Queen also is there with
+her retinue, so it be expected that, to show the good feeling and
+renewed friendship existing between De Montfort and his King, there
+will be gay scenes in the old fortress. But,” he added, after a pause,
+“dare the Outlaw of Torn ride within reach of the King who has placed a
+price upon his head?”
+
+“The price has been there since I was eighteen,” answered Norman of
+Torn, “and yet my head be where it has always been. Can you blame me if
+I look with levity upon the King’s price? It be not heavy enough to
+weigh me down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in
+all England. I am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a
+prisoner today.”
+
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torn
+grew to like this brave and handsome gentleman. In his heart was no
+rancor because of the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Norman
+of Torn was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy.
+It not only held her happiness above his own, but the happiness and
+welfare of the man she loved, as well.
+
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid the
+prince adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, he
+said:
+
+“May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade? It is in
+reference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, for
+the first time, be able to fulfill.”
+
+“Certainly, my friend,” replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting, called
+upon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch,
+wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the
+missive to the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment.
+Opening it, she read:
+
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn.
+
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in
+friendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor.
+
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battel
+this night.
+
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I know
+that you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendship
+which he bears you.
+
+My camp lies without the city’s gates, and your messenger will have
+safe conduct whatever reply he bears to,
+
+Norman of Torn.
+
+Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she thought of that
+moment of terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle
+of Peter of Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the
+Devil of Torn. And then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful
+chivalry, nay, almost tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester.
+
+What a strange contradiction of a man! She wondered if he would come
+with lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that lay
+behind the cold, steel mask. She would ask him this night to let her
+see his face, or would that be cruel? For, did they not say that it was
+from the very ugliness of it that he kept his helm closed to hide the
+repulsive sight from the eyes of men!
+
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two years
+before, she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn.
+
+In the great hall that night as the King’s party sat at supper, Philip
+of France, addressing Henry, said:
+
+“And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today,
+that I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway?”
+
+“Some of our good friends from Kent?” asked the King.
+
+“Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price,
+Norman of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteous
+and pleasant gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmed
+through your realm that I may add to my list of pleasant
+acquaintances.”
+
+“The Devil of Torn?” asked Henry, incredulously. “Some one be hoaxing
+you.”
+
+“Nay, Your Majesty, I think not,” replied Philip, “for he was indeed a
+grim and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and
+awe-inspiring a pack as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a
+thousand strong they rode. They be camped not far without the city
+now.”
+
+“My Lord,” said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, “be it not time
+that England were rid of this devil’s spawn and his hellish brood?
+Though I presume,” he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, “that it
+may prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn upon his
+companion in arms.”
+
+“I owe him nothing,” returned the Earl haughtily, “by his own word.”
+
+“You owe him victory at Lewes,” snapped the King. “It were indeed a sad
+commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing lieges who
+turned their arms against our royal person, ‘to save him from the
+treachery of his false advisers,’ that they called upon a cutthroat
+outlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in their ‘righteous
+cause’.”
+
+“My Lord King,” cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, “I called not
+upon this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles of
+Lewes until I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day.
+Neither did I know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fall
+upon baron or royalist.”
+
+“If that be the truth, Leicester,” said the King, with a note of
+skepticism which he made studiously apparent, “hang the dog. He be just
+without the city even now.”
+
+“You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be
+hanged, hanged he shall be,” replied De Montfort.
+
+“A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains
+to catch him, Leicester,” said the King.
+
+“A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,” replied De
+Montfort.
+
+“And not,” thought Philip of France, “if I know it, shall the brave
+Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow.”
+
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and
+forth waiting an answer to his message.
+
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the
+outlaw knew full well that he had put his head within the lion’s jaw
+when he had ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had no
+faith in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the
+King would urge when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers
+naked back to London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King’s
+message, and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was within
+reach of the army of De Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not
+relish pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand
+within a walled fortress.
+
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his
+rough band would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great to
+enter the castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if he
+died there, it would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had
+set himself to do this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would
+were all the armies of the world camped within Battel.
+
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who
+presently appeared escorting a lackey.
+
+“A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort,” said the soldier.
+
+“Bring him hither,” commanded the outlaw.
+
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment
+sealed with scented wax wafers.
+
+“Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?” asked the outlaw.
+
+“I am to wait, My Lord,” replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the
+service had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to
+bear a message to the Devil.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals,
+read the message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple.
+
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where
+I be.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the
+ground beside an object covered with a cloth.
+
+“Come, Flory,” he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, “lead
+on.”
+
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Torn
+and last the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the object
+covered with a cloth. But it was not Flory who brought up the rear.
+Flory lay dead in the shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thin
+wound below his left shoulder blade marked the spot where a keen dagger
+had found its way to his heart, and in his place walked the little
+grim, gray, old man, bearing the object covered with a cloth. But none
+might know the difference, for the little man wore the armor of Flory,
+and his visor was drawn.
+
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall where
+the shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doubly
+black. Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up winding
+stairways until presently he stopped before a low door.
+
+“Here,” he said, “My Lord,” and turning left them.
+
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his right
+hand, and a low voice from within whispered, “Enter.”
+
+Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off a large
+hall. At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burning
+brightly, while a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the
+austere chamber. In the center of the room was a table, and at the
+sides several benches.
+
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone.
+
+“Place your burden upon this table, Flory,” said Norman of Torn. And
+when it had been done: “You may go. Return to camp.”
+
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed
+behind the little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory
+and then Norman of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left
+hand ungauntleted, resting upon the table’s edge.
+
+“My Lady Bertrade,” he said at last, “I have come to fulfill a
+promise.”
+
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice. Before,
+Norman of Torn had always spoken in English. Where had she heard that
+voice! There were tones in it that haunted her.
+
+“What promise did Norman of Torn e’er make to Bertrade de Montfort?”
+she asked. “I do not understand you, my friend.”
+
+“Look,” he said. And as she approached the table he withdrew the cloth
+which covered the object that the man had placed there.
+
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon a
+golden platter was a man’s head; horrid with the grin of death baring
+yellow fangs.
+
+“Dost recognize the thing?” asked the outlaw. And then she did; but
+still she could not comprehend. At last, slowly, there came back to her
+the idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her
+enemy to the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that! It was all a sore
+puzzle to her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim,
+visored figure of the Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table
+beside the grisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger
+was the great ring she had tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two
+years before.
+
+What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it
+was impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there
+upon the platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in
+letters of dried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death—NT!
+
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw’s hand, and then
+up to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon her
+breast, the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed
+slightly as might one who has just arisen from a great illness.
+
+“Your visor,” she whispered, “raise your visor.” And then, as though to
+herself: “It cannot be; it cannot be.”
+
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and
+there before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.
+
+“Mon Dieu!” she cried, “Tell me it is but a cruel joke.”
+
+“It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade,” said Norman of Torn sadly.
+And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised
+arms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said
+sadly:
+
+“And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heart
+went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation
+could come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was
+returned; and so I waited until you might forget the words you had
+spoken to Roger de Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that you
+should know him in his true colors.
+
+“It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. God
+knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very
+attitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your
+heart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against
+me because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to the
+Devil of Torn.
+
+“I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I know
+you never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always be
+with loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+
+“I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you,
+and with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.
+
+“Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. The
+hand that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it
+as guide.
+
+“The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came from
+a heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continue
+to beat for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in
+a wasted and useless life.
+
+“Farewell, Bertrade.” Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to his
+lips.
+
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this proud
+daughter of the new conqueror of England. The anger of an outraged
+confidence, gratitude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor,
+hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kinsmen, respect and
+honor for the marvellous courage of the man, loathing and contempt for
+the base born, the memory of that exalted moment when those handsome
+lips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a champion who
+dared come alone among twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a
+promise made her; but stronger than all the rest, two stood out before
+her mind’s eye like living things—the degradation of his low birth, and
+the memory of the great love she had cherished all these long and
+dreary months.
+
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl’s breast. In those
+few brief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade
+de Montfort that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached
+her final resolution she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman
+who, with the weight of a mature deliberation, had chosen the path
+which she would travel to the end—to the final goal, however sweet or
+however bitter.
+
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet,
+and, taking the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised
+him to his feet. In silence she replaced the golden band upon his
+finger, and then she lifted her eyes to his.
+
+“Keep the ring, Norman of Torn,” she said. “The friendship of Bertrade
+de Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away,” she
+hesitated, “nor is her love.”
+
+“What do you mean?” he whispered. For in her eyes was that wondrous
+light he had seen there on that other day in the far castle of
+Leicester.
+
+“I mean,” she answered, “that, Roger de Conde or Norman of Torn,
+gentleman or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de Montfort—it
+be thee I love; thee!”
+
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised,
+for he had expected the worst; but that she should love him! Oh God,
+had his overwrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dreaming this
+thing, only to awaken to the cold and awful truth?
+
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath
+that fanned his cheek; these were no dream!
+
+“Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade!” he cried. “Dost forget
+that I be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning
+even the identity of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world with
+such a man for husband?”
+
+“I know what I say, perfectly,” she answered. “Were thou born out of
+wedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I love
+thee, and honor thee, and cleave to thee. Where thou be, Norman of
+Torn, there shall be happiness for me. Thy friends shall be my friends;
+thy joys shall be my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies,
+even mine own father, shall be my enemies.
+
+“Why it is, my Norman, I know not. Only do I know that I did often
+question my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
+thee—oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that
+this heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of
+Torn?”
+
+“I do not know,” he said simply and gravely. “So wonderful a thing be
+beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it
+is sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I
+were like to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness.”
+
+“Sh!” she whispered, suddenly, “methinks I hear footsteps. They must
+not find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night
+wrung a promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang
+thee. What shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?”
+
+“We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee
+to gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest north
+tonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall
+make us one.”
+
+“I am glad thee wish it,” she replied. “I feared that, for some reason,
+thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait here, I
+will be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this door,”
+and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little room,
+“thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoining
+apartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes.”
+
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding
+himself away from danger.
+
+“For my sake,” she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and she
+ran swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth
+upon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did
+not return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+
+Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a
+trifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between
+Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.
+
+As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love
+for the Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.
+
+“It will be better than I had hoped,” he muttered, “and easier. ’S
+blood! How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole
+proud heart in the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime
+revenge! I have waited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow
+thou struck that day, but the return shall be an hundred-fold increased
+by long accumulated interest.”
+
+Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and
+corridors, until he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and
+the King, with Philip of France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+
+Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the
+room and, addressing the King, cried:
+
+“Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where a
+few men may seize him.”
+
+“What now! What now!” ejaculated Henry. “What madman be this?”
+
+“I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or to
+more certain ends,” replied the man.
+
+“It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself,” cried De
+Montfort.
+
+“Where be the knave?” asked Henry.
+
+“He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughter
+of My Lord Earl of Leicester. Even now she did but tell him that she
+loved him.”
+
+“Hold,” cried De Montfort. “Hold fast thy foul tongue. What meanest
+thou by uttering such lies, and to my very face?”
+
+“They be no lies, Simon de Montfort. An I tell thee that Roger de Conde
+and Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak no
+lie.”
+
+De Montfort paled.
+
+“Where be the craven wretch?” he demanded.
+
+“Come,” said the little, old man. And turning, he led from the hall,
+closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the
+others.
+
+“Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men—thou’lt need them all to
+take Norman of Torn,” he advised De Montfort. And so as they passed the
+guard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard the
+tramping of many feet. They seemed approaching up the dim corridor that
+led to the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+
+Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand upon
+the latch, waited. Yes, they were coming that way, many of them and
+quickly and, as he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras
+and pushed open the door behind him; backing into the other apartment
+just as Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, burst into the room from
+the opposite side.
+
+At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and,
+turning, he faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queen
+of England and another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their
+ladies.
+
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even had
+there been where to run. Slowly, he backed away from the door toward a
+corner where, with his back against a wall and a table at his right, he
+might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that he
+could hope for no quarter from the men who had him cornered there like
+a great bear in a trap.
+
+With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man,
+even though that man were the Devil of Torn.
+
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and were
+within the room where the outlaw stood at bay.
+
+At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddled
+together, while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemen
+and as many men-at-arms.
+
+“What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort, angrily.
+“Where be my daughter, Bertrade?”
+
+“I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs,” replied
+Norman of Torn, “which be the affair of no other man. As to your
+daughter: I know nothing of her whereabouts. What should she have to do
+with the Devil of Torn, My Lord?”
+
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+
+“He lies,” shouted he. “Her kisses be yet wet upon his lips.”
+
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was
+now partly raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty
+years, he had called father.
+
+He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery and
+harm from him? No, he could not believe it. One of them must have gone
+mad. But why Flory’s armor and where was the faithful Flory?
+
+“Father!” he ejaculated, “leadest thou the hated English King against
+thine own son?”
+
+“Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn,” retorted the old man. “Thy
+days of usefulness to me be past. Tonight thou serve me best swinging
+from a wooden gibbet. Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a good
+strong gibbet in the courtyard below.”
+
+“Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort.
+
+“Yes,” was the reply, “when this floor be ankle deep in English blood
+and my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender.”
+
+“Come, come,” cried the King. “Let your men take the dog, De Montfort!”
+
+“Have at him, then,” ordered the Earl, turning toward the waiting
+men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon the
+doomed outlaw.
+
+But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushed
+forward in a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared against
+one.
+
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn. It was grim battle and
+his only hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before
+he himself went down.
+
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and as
+quickly as he might. And to those who watched, it was as though the
+young officer of the Guard had not come within reach of that terrible
+blade ere he lay dead upon the floor, and then the point of death
+passed into the lungs of one of the men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere
+it pierced the heart of a third.
+
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of that
+mighty arm. Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack,
+a girlish figure, clothed in a long riding cloak, burst through the
+little knot of men as they stood facing their lone antagonist.
+
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfort
+threw herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonished
+company of king, prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her full
+height, and with all the pride of race and blood that was her right of
+heritage from a French king on her father’s side and an English king on
+her mother’s, she flashed her defiance and contempt in the single word:
+
+“Cowards!”
+
+“What means this, girl?” demanded De Montfort, “Art gone stark mad?
+Know thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?”
+
+“If I had not before known it, My Lord,” she replied haughtily, “it
+would be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack a
+lone man. What other man in all England could stand thus against forty?
+A lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet.”
+
+“Enough, girl,” cried the King, “what be this knave to thee?”
+
+“He loves me, Your Majesty,” she replied proudly, “and I, him.”
+
+“Thou lov’st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade,” cried Henry. “Thou, a
+De Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen this murderer’s
+accursed mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunt
+his defiance in the King’s, thy uncle’s, face, and bend his whole life
+to preying upon thy people; thou lov’st this monster?”
+
+“I love him, My Lord King.”
+
+“Thou lov’st him, Bertrade?” asked Philip of France in a low tone,
+pressing nearer to the girl.
+
+“Yes, Philip,” she said, a little note of sadness and finality in her
+voice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.
+
+Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, and
+facing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of
+Torn.
+
+“That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen,” he said.
+“Who takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of
+France as well.”
+
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other’s shoulder.
+
+“No, thou must not do this thing, my friend,” he said. “It be my fight
+and I will fight it alone. Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee,
+out of harm’s way.”
+
+As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together,
+and, at a word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the
+attack again. It was a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two
+could not fight with the girl between them and their adversaries. And
+thus, by weight of numbers, they took Bertrade de Montfort and the
+Prince away from Norman of Torn without a blow being struck, and then
+the little, grim, gray, old man stepped forward.
+
+“There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can,
+alone, take Norman of Torn,” he said, addressing the King, “and that
+sword be mine. Keep thy cattle back, out of my way.” And, without
+waiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom
+for twenty years he had called son.
+
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, and
+there, in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of
+Battel, was fought such a duel as no man there had ever seen before,
+nor is it credible that its like was ever fought before or since.
+
+The world’s two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil—the one with the
+strength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray
+fox, and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of
+blood and hate before them—thrust and parried and cut until those that
+gazed awestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in
+the tensity of their wonder.
+
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come to
+kill pressed back to make room for the contestants. Now was the young
+man forcing his older foeman more and more upon the defensive. Slowly,
+but as sure as death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory.
+The old man saw it too. He had devoted years of his life to training
+that mighty sword arm that it might deal out death to others, and
+now—ah! The grim justice of the retribution—he, at last, was to fall
+before its diabolical cunning.
+
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wily
+Frenchman saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt
+its cold breath condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and
+so he cast about for any means whereby he might escape the result of
+his rash venture.
+
+Presently he saw his opportunity. Norman of Torn stood beside the body
+of one of his earlier antagonists. Slowly the old man worked around
+until the body lay directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final
+rally and one great last burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushed
+Norman of Torn back for a bare step—it was enough. The outlaw’s foot
+struck the prostrate corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant
+his sword arm rose, ever so little, as he strove to retain his
+equilibrium; but that little was enough. It was what the gray old snake
+had expected, and he was ready. Like lightning, his sword shot through
+the opening, and, for the first time in his life of continual combat
+and death, Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh. But ere he
+fell, his sword responded to the last fierce command of that iron will,
+and as his body sank limply to the floor, rolling with outstretched
+arms, upon its back, the little, grim, gray man went down also,
+clutching frantically at a gleaming blade buried in his chest.
+
+For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and then
+Bertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of her
+father, rushed to the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved.
+Kneeling there beside him she called his name aloud, as she unlaced his
+helm. Tearing the steel headgear from him, she caressed his face,
+kissing the white forehead and the still lips.
+
+“Oh God! Oh God!” she murmured. “Why hast thou taken him? Outlaw though
+he was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of true
+manhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+
+“I do not wonder that he preyed upon you,” she cried, turning upon the
+knights behind her. “His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyal
+to his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all;
+and ever be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink
+deeper into the mud. Mon Dieu! How I hate you,” she finished. And as
+she spoke the words, Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes
+of her father.
+
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad,
+kindly man, and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of
+anger.
+
+“Come, child,” said the King, “thou art distraught; thou sayest what
+thou mean not. The world is better that this man be dead. He was an
+enemy of organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows. Life in
+England will be safer after this day. Do not weep over the clay of a
+nameless adventurer who knew not his own father.”
+
+Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting
+posture. He was not dead. Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his
+frame was racked with suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and
+nostrils.
+
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak. Weakly he motioned toward
+the King. Henry came toward him.
+
+“Thou hast won thy sovereign’s gratitude, my man,” said the King,
+kindly. “What be thy name?”
+
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on another
+paroxysm of coughing. At last he managed to whisper.
+
+“Look—at—me. Dost thou—not—remember me?
+The—foils—the—blow—twenty-long-years. Thou—spat—upon—me.”
+
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+
+“De Vac!” he exclaimed.
+
+The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn.
+
+“Outlaw—highwayman—scourge—of—England. Look—upon—his—face. Open—his
+tunic—left—breast.”
+
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a final
+effort: “De—Vac’s—revenge. God—damn—the—English,” and slipped forward
+upon the rushes, dead.
+
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen. They stood looking
+into each other’s eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed an
+eternity, before any dared to move; and then, as though they feared
+what they should see, they bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for
+the first time.
+
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up
+to hers.
+
+“Edward!” she whispered.
+
+“Not Edward, Madame,” said De Montfort, “but—”
+
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay
+the unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to
+the waiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own
+hands, tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped
+wide the tunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.
+
+“Oh God!” he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the
+body of her second born, crying out:
+
+“Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!” And as she bent still lower to kiss the
+lily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for
+over twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her
+ear to his breast.
+
+“He lives!” she almost shrieked. “Quick, Henry, our son lives!”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of
+France had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on his
+arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being
+enacted at her feet.
+
+Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness.
+Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor,
+knelt Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his
+hands.
+
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought
+the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting
+against one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see who
+it might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon
+whose breast his head rested.
+
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a very
+terrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why
+could he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his
+eyes wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers
+standing uncovered and with bowed heads about him. Presently he found
+her.
+
+“Bertrade!” he whispered.
+
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.
+
+“Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream.”
+
+“I be very real, dear heart,” she answered, “and these others be real,
+also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing
+that has happened. These who were thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy
+best friends now—that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peace
+until thou be better.”
+
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faint
+sigh.
+
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen’s, and all that
+night the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat
+bathing his fevered forehead. The King’s chirurgeon was there also,
+while the King and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses,
+or in the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is found
+again be always the best beloved.
+
+Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep; the
+fever and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health and iron
+constitution. The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+
+“You had best retire, ladies,” he said, “and rest. The Prince will
+live.”
+
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands
+on the part of the King’s chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+
+“I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince,” urged the chirurgeon.
+
+“Why call thou me prince?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee,”
+replied the chirurgeon, “and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt,
+thou mayst see her, My Lord.”
+
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to a
+sentry who stood just without. The sentry transmitted the message to a
+young squire who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown
+open again from without, and a voice announced:
+
+“Her Majesty, the Queen!”
+
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came
+back to him the scene in the Queen’s apartment the night before. It was
+all a sore perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he
+attempt to.
+
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward him
+across the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face
+radiant with happiness and love.
+
+“Richard, my son!” exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his face
+in her hands and kissing him.
+
+“Madame!” exclaimed the surprised man. “Be all the world gone crazy?”
+
+And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince of
+England.
+
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his and
+raising it to his lips.
+
+“I did not know, Madame,” he said, “or never would my sword have been
+bared in other service than thine. If thou canst forgive me, Madame,
+never can I forgive myself.”
+
+“Take it not so hard, my son,” said Eleanor of England. “It be no fault
+of thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and rejoicing
+should we feel, now that thou be found again.”
+
+“Forgiveness!” said a man’s voice behind them. “Forsooth, it be we that
+should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son with swords and
+halters.
+
+“Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who
+sent the King’s army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King’s
+message down his messenger’s throat.
+
+“By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King’s son, an’
+though we made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee
+now.”
+
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the King
+standing behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and
+greeted his father.
+
+“They be sorry jokes, Sire,” he said. “Methinks it had been better had
+Richard remained lost. It will do the honor of the Plantagenets but
+little good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the
+blood.”
+
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King of
+England to wipe the great name from the pages of history—perhaps a
+jealous king.
+
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of the
+chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he had
+done so they left him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the
+door closed behind them than he arose and left the apartment by another
+exit.
+
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom he
+was searching. She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression half
+sad upon her beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached, and
+he stood there for several moments watching her dear profile, and the
+rising and falling of her bosom over that true and loyal heart that had
+beaten so proudly against all the power of a mighty throne for the
+despised Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense which
+warns us that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our ears
+hear, caused her to turn.
+
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner
+of the court, said:
+
+“What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor subject?”
+And then, more gravely, “My Lord, I have been raised at court, and I
+understand that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget what
+passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal precedents,”
+he replied, “for he will wed not rashly, but most wisely, since he will
+wed none but Bertrade de Montfort.” And he who had been the Outlaw of
+Torn took the fair young girl in his arms, adding: “If she still loves
+me, now that I be a prince?”
+
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers.
+
+“It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince I
+love now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman—it be thee I
+love, dear heart—just thee.”
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
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+
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+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+Title: The Outlaw of Torn
+
+Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+Release Date: December, 1995 [EBook #369]
+[Most recently updated: November 11, 2020]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTLAW OF TORN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<h1>The Outlaw of Torn</h1>
+
+<h2>by Edgar Rice Burroughs</h2>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<p>
+Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years. At first it was
+suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England. Later it was forgotten.
+I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident being the relationship of my
+wife&rsquo;s cousin to a certain Father Superior in a very ancient monastery in
+Europe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts and I
+came across this. It is very interesting&mdash;partially since it is a bit of
+hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that it records the
+story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous life of its innocent
+victim&mdash;Richard, the lost prince of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. What interested me
+was the unique character about whom the tale revolves&mdash;the visored
+horseman who&mdash;but let us wait until we get to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening, it shook
+England from north to south and from east to west; and reached across the
+channel and shook France. It started, directly, in the London palace of Henry
+III, and was the result of a quarrel between the King and his powerful
+brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never mind the quarrel, that&rsquo;s history, and you can read all about it at
+your leisure. But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243, Henry so
+forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason in the
+presence of a number of the King&rsquo;s gentlemen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Montfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himself to his
+full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of his wrath, as he did
+that day, he was very imposing. A power in England, second only to the King
+himself, and with the heart of a lion in him, he answered the King as no other
+man in all England would have dared answer him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord King,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;that you be my Lord King alone
+prevents Simon de Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult.
+That you take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare say
+were you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you a
+coward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers as these
+awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to his king. They were
+horrified, for De Montfort&rsquo;s bold challenge was to them but little short
+of sacrilege.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon De Montfort,
+but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he thought better of
+whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty sneer, turned to his
+courtiers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, my gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;methought that we were to
+have a turn with the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, De Fulm!
+Come, Leybourn!&rdquo; and the King left the apartment followed by his
+gentlemen, all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it became
+apparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him. As the arras fell
+behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his broad shoulders, and
+turning, left the apartment by another door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still smarting
+from the humiliation of De Montfort&rsquo;s reproaches, and as he laid aside
+his surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm, his eyes alighted on
+the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was advancing with the King&rsquo;s
+foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for fencing with De Fulm, who, like the
+other sycophants that surrounded him, always allowed the King easily to best
+him in every encounter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit himself
+to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry felt that he
+could best the devil himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the guard
+room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that it had light from
+three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-skinned Sir Jules
+de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to face him in mimic combat with the
+foils, for the King wished to go with hammer and tongs at someone to vent his
+suppressed rage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind&rsquo;s eye the person of the hated De
+Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an early and
+mortifying defeat by the King&rsquo;s sudden and clever attack.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day he quite
+outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run the pseudo De Montfort
+through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his audience. For this fell purpose
+he had backed the astounded De Vac twice around the hall when, with a clever
+feint, and backward step, the master of fence drew the King into the position
+he wanted him, and with the suddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil
+sent Henry&rsquo;s weapon clanging across the floor of the armory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand of death
+had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers. The episode meant
+more to him than being bested in play by the best swordsman in
+England&mdash;for that surely was no disgrace&mdash;to Henry it seemed
+prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should stand face to face
+with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in De Vac only the creature of his
+imagination with which he had vested the likeness of his powerful
+brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like to have done to the real
+Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced close to De Vac.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dog!&rdquo; he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow
+across the face, and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode from
+the armory.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he hated all
+things English and all Englishmen. The dead King John, though hated by all
+others, he had loved, but with the dead King&rsquo;s bones De Vac&rsquo;s
+loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral of Worcester.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court, the
+sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only De Vac could
+teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in the discharge of his duties
+as he had been in his unswerving hatred and contempt for his pupils.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might only be wiped
+out by blood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, and throwing
+down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue before his master.
+White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he spoke no word.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left to him no
+alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fight with a lesser
+mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live&mdash;the king&rsquo;s honor
+must be satisfied.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and gloried in the
+fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France; but an English
+King&mdash;pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De Vac would find
+other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would revel in revenge against
+this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If possible, he would harm the whole of
+England if he could, but he would bide his time. He could afford to wait for
+his opportunity if, by waiting, he could encompass a more terrible revenge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed the best
+swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footsteps of his
+father until, on the latter&rsquo;s death, he could easily claim the title of
+his sire. How he had left France and entered the service of John of England is
+not of this story. All the bearing that the life of Jules de Vac has upon the
+history of England hinges upon but two of his many attributes&mdash;his
+wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for his adopted country.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<p>
+South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, on the
+third day following the King&rsquo;s affront to De Vac, might have been seen
+a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroidered with gold
+about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves, which reached
+almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of the garment. A richly
+wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones, and held in place by a
+huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garment about her waist so that the
+upper portion fell outward over the girdle after the manner of a blouse. In the
+girdle was a long dagger of beautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her
+feet, while a wimple of violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly
+over her head and shoulders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like his companion, in
+gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was rich with embroidery, while
+beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white silk. His doublet was of scarlet,
+while his long hose of white were cross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny
+sandals to his knees. On the back of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed,
+round-crowned hat in which a single plume of white waved and nodded bravely at
+each move of the proud little head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The child&rsquo;s features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave an
+expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have been too
+arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with his companion,
+little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, which sat strangely upon
+one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to turn her head from him that he
+might not see the smiles which she could scarce repress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little bush
+near them, said, &ldquo;Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I would
+play at toss.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place and turned
+to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played beneath the windows
+of the armory, the boy running blithely after the ball when he missed it, and
+laughing and shouting in happy glee when he made a particularly good catch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim, gray,
+old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in a malignant
+scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely young
+woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was working out
+a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for some
+means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry had put upon him.
+Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd and cunning mind, but so
+far all had been rejected as unworthy of the terrible satisfaction which his
+wounded pride demanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled political
+conditions of Henry&rsquo;s reign, for from these he felt he might wrest that
+opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses and to the harm, and
+possibly the undoing, of the King.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory when the
+King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac had heard much
+which passed between Henry III and his intimates that could well be turned to
+the King&rsquo;s harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the terms of
+the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with his kingly oath to
+maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vac had gleaned from scraps
+of conversation dropped in the armory: that Henry was even now negotiating with
+the leaders of foreign mercenaries, and with Louis IX of France, for a
+sufficient force of knights and men-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his
+own barons that he might effectively put a stop to all future interference by
+them with the royal prerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: the point of
+landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first point of attack. Ah,
+would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in this venture so dear
+to his heart!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their retainers
+forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King&rsquo;s forces.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he was beholden for
+his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons would depose Henry, and place
+a new king upon England&rsquo;s throne, and then De Vac would mock the
+Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectable vengeance, indeed! And the old
+man licked his thin lips as though to taste the last sweet vestige of some
+dainty morsel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where the old
+man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, De Vac&rsquo;s eyes
+fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as the fog before the
+noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him the whole hideous plot of
+fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ upon the leaves of a great book
+that had been thrown wide before him. And, in so far as he could direct, he
+varied not one jot from the details of that vividly conceived masterpiece of
+hellishness during the twenty years which followed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal father was
+Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of England. No published
+history mentions this little lost prince; only the secret archives of the kings
+of England tell the story of his strange and adventurous life. His name has
+been blotted from the records of men; and the revenge of De Vac has passed from
+the eyes of the world; though in his time it was a real and terrible thing in
+the hearts of the English.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<p>
+For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in the gardens
+for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of his tiny life with his
+nurses and governesses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repair to the
+farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a little postern gate,
+she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom the Queen had forbidden
+the privilege of the court.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and plans,
+unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowers and shrubbery
+of the garden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had managed to
+coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to the little
+postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnight escapade,
+hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner of his adventure, and,
+what was more to the point with Brus, at the same time slipping a couple of
+golden zecchins into the gardener&rsquo;s palm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainer of the
+house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac might be up to, Brus was
+quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, the key to the postern
+gate was as safe in De Vac&rsquo;s hands as though Henry himself had it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence should, at
+his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more befitting the younger
+sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern was it of his? Did he not have
+enough to think about to keep the gardens so that his royal master and mistress
+might find pleasure in the shaded walks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous
+beds of foliage plants and blooming flowers which he set with such wondrous
+precision in the formal garden?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this; and if the
+dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take this means of
+rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he to ignore the
+divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac the key, and the little
+prince played happily among the flowers of his royal father&rsquo;s garden, and
+all were satisfied; which was as it should have been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side of London; one
+who could not possibly know him or recognize the key as belonging to the
+palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waiting impatiently while the old man
+fashioned it with the crude instruments of his time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanes and
+alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional smoky
+lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance from the
+palace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of the Thames
+in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of the river rose and
+fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath the dock to the remote
+fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dock rats and their fiercer human
+antitypes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search of the
+little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it, and, after
+repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened by a slatternly
+old hag.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?&rdquo; she
+grumbled. &ldquo;Ah, &rsquo;tis ye, my lord?&rdquo; she added, hastily, as the
+flickering rays of the candle she bore lighted up De Vac&rsquo;s face.
+&ldquo;Welcome, my Lord, thrice welcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her
+brother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Silence, old hag,&rdquo; cried De Vac. &ldquo;Is it not enough that you
+leech me of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles
+of villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs burden me
+still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate to
+perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had delivered
+here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and cobwebs from the
+floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the dead Romans who builded
+London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too, from the stink, they must have
+been Roman swineherds who habited this sty with their herds, an&rsquo; I
+venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broom to the place for fear of
+disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan,&rdquo; cried the woman. &ldquo;I would
+rather hear thy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted
+from thy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice as
+it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The bundle is ready,&rdquo; she continued, closing the door after De
+Vac, who had now entered, &ldquo;and here be the key; but first let us have a
+payment. I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from the
+secrecy which you have demanded, an&rsquo; I dare say there will be some who
+would pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child, thy
+sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious to hide away in
+old Til&rsquo;s garret. So it be well for you, my Lord, to pay old Til well and
+add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if you would that your prisoner
+find peace in old Til&rsquo;s house.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fetch me the bundle, hag,&rdquo; replied De Vac, &ldquo;and you shall
+have gold against a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all
+goes well and thou holdest thy vile tongue.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the old woman&rsquo;s threats had already caused De Vac a feeling of
+uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in the old
+woman had she known the determination her words had caused in the mind of the
+old master of fence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure too fraught with
+danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyal fellow-conspirator.
+True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of the plot in which he was
+involving the old woman, but, as she had said, his stern commands for secrecy
+had told her enough to arouse her suspicions, and with them her curiosity and
+cupidity. So it was that old Til might well have quailed in her tattered
+sandals had she but even vaguely guessed the thoughts which passed in De
+Vac&rsquo;s mind; but the extra gold pieces he dropped into her withered palm
+as she delivered the bundle to him, together with the promise of more, quite
+effectually won her loyalty and her silence for the time being.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle with his
+long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alley and hastened
+toward the dock.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlier in the
+evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle. Then, casting
+off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palace walls, he moored
+near to the little postern gate which let into the lower end of the garden.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to the
+water&rsquo;s edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty of the
+aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and,
+unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old man that he
+had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convinced him of the
+folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose youth was past,
+and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames might find lodgement for
+rheumatism.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ha, Sir Jules,&rdquo; laughed the old gardener, &ldquo;Virtue and Vice
+be twin sisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.
+Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man desires what
+another does not, who shall say whether the child of his desire be vice or
+virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires his own wife and if that be
+virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not that likewise virtue, since we
+desire the same thing? But if to obtain our desire it be necessary to expose
+our joints to the Thames&rsquo; fog, then it were virtue to remain at
+home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you sound, old mole,&rdquo; said De Vac, smiling, &ldquo;would
+that I might learn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me
+in good stead before I be much older.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the
+sword, I should think,&rdquo; said Brus, returning to his work.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking out upon the
+beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two hundred yards
+away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth, sleek lawns, and
+formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while here and there marble statues
+of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in the brilliant sunlight, or, half
+shaded by an overhanging bush, took on a semblance of life from the riotous
+play of light and shadow as the leaves above them moved to and fro in the faint
+breeze. Farther in the distance, the river wall was hidden by more closely
+massed bushes, and the formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was
+relieved by a background of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees
+and flowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stone benches of
+the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swings suspended from the
+branches of fruit trees.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and her little
+charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher in the window
+behind them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as Richard
+ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the little postern gate
+which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had been waiting without.
+Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm to the little bower which was
+their trysting place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince played happily
+about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern, determined face
+which peered through the foliage at a little distance from the playing boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly which
+fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in the bushes. Closer and
+closer came the little Prince, and in another moment, he had burst through the
+flowering shrubs, and stood facing the implacable master of fence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your Highness,&rdquo; said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow,
+&ldquo;let old DeVac help you catch the pretty insect.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so together they
+started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed out of sight. De
+Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate, but when he would have
+passed through with the tiny Prince, the latter rebelled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, My Lord Prince,&rdquo; urged De Vac, &ldquo;methinks the butterfly
+did but alight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden in
+an instant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Go thyself and fetch it,&rdquo; replied the Prince; &ldquo;the King, my
+father, has forbid me stepping without the palace grounds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; commanded De Vac, more sternly, &ldquo;no harm can come to
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac was forced to
+grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and alarm from the royal
+child.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Unhand me, sirrah,&rdquo; screamed the boy. &ldquo;How dare you lay
+hands on a prince of England?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child&rsquo;s mouth to still his cries, but it
+was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an instant, they
+were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing his sword as he ran.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside, and
+the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate. But, handicapped
+by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key before the officer threw
+himself against the panels and burst out before the master of fence, closely
+followed by the Lady Maud.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly affrightened
+Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted the officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac&rsquo;s intentions were
+too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each other with grim
+fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman that France had ever produced
+in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of chivalry, he
+did not lower his point until it had first plunged through the heart of his
+brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped between Lady Maud and the gate,
+so that she could not retreat into the garden and give the alarm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing the lady
+in waiting, his back against the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mon Dieu, Sir Jules,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;hast thou gone mad?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, My Lady,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;but I had not thought to do the
+work which now lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy
+head and let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling? Your
+rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you or I, My
+Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself for death.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by the great
+lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap still further indignities
+upon him with the intention of degrading and humiliating him that he might
+leave England forever. The King feared this mighty kinsman who so boldly
+advised him against the weak follies which were bringing his kingdom to a
+condition of revolution.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for Leicester
+had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came an interruption
+which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier in a common affliction
+that touched the hearts of all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and Eleanor,
+Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming down her pale
+cheeks.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, My Lord! My Lord!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Richard, our son, has
+been assassinated and thrown into the Thames.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statement from his queen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with Prince
+Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an immediate search
+had been instituted&mdash;a search which did not end for over twenty years; but
+the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the court to stone, for there
+beside the open postern gate lay the dead bodies of Lady Maud and a certain
+officer of the Guards, but nowhere was there a sign or trace of Prince Richard,
+second son of Henry III of England, and at that time the youngest prince of the
+realm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was that
+one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of the episode of
+the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the King&rsquo;s little son
+became apparent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England, for on
+the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark which closely resembled a
+lily and, when after a year no child was found bearing such a mark and no trace
+of De Vac uncovered, the search was carried into France, nor was it ever wholly
+relinquished at any time for more than twenty years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it was subjected
+to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassin could have
+dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killed the Lady Maud and
+her lover, had such been his desire.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de Montfort,
+Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had always been so
+marked as to have been commented upon by the members of the King&rsquo;s
+household.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king was healed, and
+although the great nobleman was divested of his authority in Gascony, he
+suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royal master.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<p>
+As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced, for,
+merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Too far he had
+gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady Maud alive, the
+whole of the palace guard and all the city of London would have been on his
+heels in ten minutes; there would have been no escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and whimper in
+his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that a threat of death
+easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led him to the boat hidden
+deep in the dense bushes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had first
+intended. Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneath the
+thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a cotton wimple
+low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair. Concealing the child
+beneath the other articles of clothing, he pushed off from the bank, and,
+rowing close to the shore, hastened down the Thames toward the old dock where,
+the previous night, he had concealed his skiff. He reached his destination
+unnoticed, and, running in beneath the dock, worked the boat far into the dark
+recess of the cave-like retreat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew that the
+search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, and that none
+might traverse the streets of London without being subject to the closest
+scrutiny.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince and clothed
+him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundle hidden beneath the
+thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match, a black doublet and a
+tiny leather jerkin and leather cap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn from
+the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned the bundle to the
+voiceless river.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and, finding that
+De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow commenced
+questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this strange adventure
+getting the better of his former apprehension.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do we here, Sir Jules?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Take me back to the
+King&rsquo;s, my father&rsquo;s palace. I like not this dark hole nor the
+strange garments you have placed upon me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Silence, boy!&rdquo; commanded the old man. &ldquo;Sir Jules be dead,
+nor are you a king&rsquo;s son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again
+let me hear you speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor. Presently he
+began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry and frightened&mdash;just a poor
+little baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands of this cruel enemy&mdash;all
+his royalty as nothing, all gone with the silken finery which lay in the thick
+mud at the bottom of the Thames, and presently he dropped into a fitful sleep
+in the bottom of the skiff.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to the side of the
+dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood listening,
+preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til&rsquo;s place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive ears;
+louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that a number of
+men were approaching.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath the dock.
+Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights and men-at-arms clanked
+out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the dark alley. Here they
+stopped as though for consultation and plainly could the listener below hear
+every word of their conversation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;De Montfort,&rdquo; said one, &ldquo;what thinkest thou of it? Can it be
+that the Queen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black
+waters?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, De Clare,&rdquo; replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as
+that of the Earl of Leicester. &ldquo;The hand that could steal the Prince from
+out of the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or her
+companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easily and
+safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been the object of this
+strange attack. I think, My Lord, that presently we shall hear from some bold
+adventurer who holds the little Prince for ransom. God give that such may be
+the case, for of all the winsome and affectionate little fellows I have ever
+seen, not even excepting mine own dear son, the little Richard was the most to
+be beloved. Would that I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done
+this horrid deed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the object of
+his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and the voices above
+him had awakened the little Prince and, with a startled cry, he sat upright in
+the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De Vac&rsquo;s iron hand clapped over the
+tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail had reached the ears of the men
+above.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hark! What was that, My Lord?&rdquo; cried one of the men-at-arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then De
+Montfort cried out:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the name of
+the King!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free
+himself, but De Vac&rsquo;s ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the
+babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening for a
+repetition of the sound.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dock rats,&rdquo; said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided
+them to protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose
+boards, and ran squealing up the dark alley.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are,&rdquo; said De Montfort, &ldquo;but I could have sworn
+&rsquo;twas a child&rsquo;s feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents
+with mine own eyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no
+success here, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious to
+bargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to give
+us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of the listeners
+beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A close shave,&rdquo; thought De Vac, as he again took up the child and
+prepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him, he soon
+reached the door to Til&rsquo;s house and, inserting the key, crept noiselessly
+to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored hostess.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, this ascent
+being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up after him,
+closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbed with his burden, by
+means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east end of the
+building, and had windows upon three sides. These were heavily curtained. The
+apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging from a rafter near the center
+of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing a most
+barnlike and unhospitable appearance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; a cupboard, a
+table, and two benches completed the furnishings. These articles De Vac had
+purchased for the room against the time when he should occupy it with his
+little prisoner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing honey, a
+pitcher of milk and two drinking horns. To these, De Vac immediately gave his
+attention, commanding the child to partake of what he wished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince&rsquo;s fears, and he set to
+with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse by the rude
+utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal magnificence of his
+palace apartments.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the building in
+search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. The words of De
+Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced him that here was one
+more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge which must be removed as had
+the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was neither youth nor beauty to plead
+the cause of the intended victim, or to cause the grim executioner a pang of
+remorse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the street, in
+fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building. Still clad as he was
+in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til did not, at first, recognize him,
+and when he spoke, she burst into a nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in
+the perpetration of some questionable act, nor did her manner escape the shrewd
+notice of the wily master of fence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whither, old hag?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To visit Mag Tunk at the alley&rsquo;s end, by the river, My
+Lord,&rdquo; she replied, with more respect than she had been wont to accord
+him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you can
+give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I have moored
+there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the
+rickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the King would
+lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could give; the
+other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long dagger which nestled
+there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they reached the water&rsquo;s edge, De Vac was walking with his right
+shoulder behind his companion&rsquo;s left, in his hand was gripped the keen
+blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just below
+her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at the same instant
+that De Vac&rsquo;s left hand swung up and grasped her throat in a grip of
+steel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening old
+muscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward into the
+Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope that Prince Richard
+might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<p>
+For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent old woman
+lived in the heart of London within a stone&rsquo;s throw of the King&rsquo;s
+palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of an old
+building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad alone, nor by
+day. And upon his left breast was a strange mark which resembled a lily. When
+the bent old woman was safely in her attic room, with bolted door behind her,
+she was wont to straighten up, and discard her dingy mantle for more
+comfortable and becoming doublet and hose.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy&rsquo;s education. There
+were three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and hatred of all
+things English, especially the reigning house of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the little
+boy the art of fence when he was but three years old.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty, my
+son,&rdquo; she was wont to say, &ldquo;and then you shall go out and kill many
+Englishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth of
+England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck, aha, then
+will I speak. Then shall they know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he was comfortable,
+and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and that he would be a great
+man when he learned to fight with a real sword, and had grown large enough to
+wield one. He also knew that he hated Englishmen, but why, he did not know.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, he seemed to
+remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very different; when,
+instead of this old woman, there had been many people around him, and a sweet
+faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed him, before he was taken off to
+bed at night; but he could not be sure, maybe it was only a dream he
+remembered, for he dreamed many strange and wonderful dreams.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came to their
+attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk of the evening but
+the old woman did not light the cresset, and further, she whispered to the
+little boy to remain in the shadows of a far corner of the bare chamber.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost his entire
+face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bit of wrinkled forehead.
+When he spoke, he accompanied his words with many shrugs of his narrow
+shoulders and with waving of his arms and other strange and amusing
+gesticulations. The child was fascinated. Here was the first amusement of his
+little starved life. He listened intently to the conversation, which was in
+French.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have just the thing for madame,&rdquo; the stranger was saying.
+&ldquo;It be a noble and stately hall far from the beaten way. It was built in
+the old days by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants. A few years since,
+Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri de Macy, who
+pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay. Today it be my
+property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it for the mere song I have
+named. It be a wondrous bargain, madame.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumbling
+pile of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes,&rdquo; replied the
+old woman peevishly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one wing hath
+sagged and tumbled in,&rdquo; explained the old Frenchman. &ldquo;But the three
+lower stories be intact and quite habitable. It be much grander even now than
+the castles of many of England&rsquo;s noble barons, and the price,
+madame&mdash;ah, the price be so ridiculously low.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the Frenchman, &ldquo;I have it. Deposit the money
+with Isaac the Jew&mdash;thou knowest him?&mdash;and he shall hold it together
+with the deed for forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to
+Derby and inspect thy purchase. If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the
+Jew shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the end of
+forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaac send the
+deed to thee and the money to me. Be not this an easy and fair way out of the
+difficulty?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that it seemed
+quite a fair way to arrange the matter. And thus it was accomplished.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home. Thy face shall be
+wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache. Dost
+understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+expostulated the child.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tut, tut,&rdquo; interrupted the little old woman. &ldquo;Thou hast a
+toothache, and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags. And listen, should any
+ask thee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that thou
+hast a toothache. And thou do not do as I say, the King&rsquo;s men will take
+us and we shall be hanged, for the King hateth us. If thou hatest the English
+King and lovest thy life do as I command.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hate the King,&rdquo; replied the little boy. &ldquo;For this reason I
+shall do as thou sayest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north toward the
+hills of Derby. For many days they travelled, riding upon two small donkeys.
+Strange sights filled the days for the little boy who remembered nothing
+outside the bare attic of his London home and the dirty London alleys that he
+had traversed only by night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark, forbidding
+forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of thatched huts.
+Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway, alone or in small
+parties, but the child&rsquo;s companion always managed to hasten into cover at
+the road side until the grim riders had passed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade across
+which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade from either side.
+For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in silence, and then one, a
+great black mailed knight upon a black charger, cried out something to the
+other which the boy could not catch. The other knight made no response other
+than to rest his lance upon his thigh and with lowered point, ride toward his
+ebon adversary. For a dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one
+another, but presently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the
+two iron men on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of the
+glade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his foeman,
+the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon the gray, who
+went down with his rider into the dust of the highway. The momentum of the
+black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horseman before his rider could
+rein him in, then the black knight turned to view the havoc he had wrought. The
+gray horse was just staggering dizzily to his feet, but his mailed rider lay
+quiet and still where he had fallen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his vanquished
+foe. There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned toward the prostrate
+form. He spoke tauntingly, but there was no response, then he prodded the
+fallen man with the point of his spear. Even this elicited no movement. With a
+shrug of his iron clad shoulders, the black knight wheeled and rode on down the
+road until he had disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the
+encircling forest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little boy was spell-bound. Naught like this had he ever seen or dreamed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son,&rdquo; said the little
+old woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?&rdquo; he
+asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance
+and mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and death,
+for every man shalt be thy enemy. But come, we must be on our way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always in his
+memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for the day when
+he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the notice of
+a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares, they saw a band
+of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some bushes at the far side
+of the highway and fall upon the surprised and defenseless tradesmen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeons and
+daggers, with here and there a cross-bow. Without mercy they attacked the old
+and the young, beating them down in cold blood even when they offered no
+resistance. Those of the caravan who could, escaped, the balance the highwaymen
+left dead or dying in the road, as they hurried away with their loot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little old
+woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips. She noted his
+expression of dismay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is naught, my son. But English curs setting upon English swine. Some
+day thou shalt set upon both&mdash;they be only fit for killing.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which he had
+seen. Knights were cruel to knights&mdash;the poor were cruel to the
+rich&mdash;and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind that
+everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor. He had seen them in all
+their sorrow and misery and poverty&mdash;stretching a long, scattering line
+all the way from London town. Their bent backs, their poor thin bodies and
+their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the weary wretchedness of their
+existence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be no one happy in all the world?&rdquo; he once broke out to the old
+woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only he who wields the mightiest sword,&rdquo; responded the old woman.
+&ldquo;You have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts. They set upon and
+kill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all. When thou
+shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for unless thou kill
+them, they will kill thee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little hamlet in
+the hills. Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse purchased, upon
+which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting country away from the
+beaten track, until late one evening they approached a ruined castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and where a
+portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining through the narrow
+unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the likeness of a huge, many-eyed
+ogre crouching upon the flank of a deserted world, for nowhere was there other
+sign of habitation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before this somber pile, the two dismounted. The little boy was filled with awe
+and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the crumbling barbican
+on foot, leading the horse after them. From the dark shadows of the ballium,
+they passed into the moonlit inner court. At the far end the old woman found
+the ancient stables, and here, with decaying planks, she penned the horse for
+the night, pouring a measure of oats upon the floor for him from a bag which
+had hung across his rump.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting their
+advance with a flickering pine knot. The old planking of the floors, long
+unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach. There was a sudden scamper
+of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed by in a frenzy of alarm toward
+the freedom of the outer night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently they came to the great hall. The old woman pushed open the great
+doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty, cavernous
+interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch. As they stepped cautiously
+within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurts from the long-rotted rushes
+that crumbled beneath their feet. A huge bat circled wildly with loud
+fluttering wings in evident remonstrance at this rude intrusion. Strange
+creatures of the night scurried or wriggled across wall and floor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the child was unafraid. Fear had not been a part of the old woman&rsquo;s
+curriculum. The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor was he ever in
+his after-life to experience the sensation. With childish eagerness, he
+followed his companion as she inspected the interior of the chamber. It was
+still an imposing room. The boy clapped his hands in delight at the beauties of
+the carved and panelled walls and the oak beamed ceiling, stained almost black
+from the smoke of torches and oil cressets that had lighted it in bygone days,
+aided, no doubt, by the wood fires which had burned in its two immense
+fireplaces to cheer the merry throng of noble revellers that had so often sat
+about the great table into the morning hours.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here they took up their abode. But the bent, old woman was no longer an old
+woman&mdash;she had become a straight, wiry, active old man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little boy&rsquo;s education went on&mdash;French, swordsmanship and hatred
+of the English&mdash;the same thing year after year with the addition of
+horsemanship after he was ten years old. At this time the old man commenced
+teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and very marked French
+accent. During all his life now, he could not remember of having spoken to any
+living being other than his guardian, whom he had been taught to address as
+father. Nor did the boy have any name&mdash;he was just &ldquo;my son.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exacting duties of his
+education that he had little time to think of the strange loneliness of his
+existence; nor is it probable that he missed that companionship of others of
+his own age of which, never having had experience in it, he could scarce be
+expected to regret or yearn for.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and with an
+utter contempt for pain or danger&mdash;a contempt which was the result of the
+heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him. Often the
+two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and without armor or other protection of
+any description.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thus only,&rdquo; the old man was wont to say, &ldquo;mayst thou become
+the absolute master of thy blade. Of such a nicety must be thy handling of the
+weapon that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly, shouldst
+thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of a master hand, mayst
+be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of them would
+nurse a punctured skin for a few days. So, while blood was often let on both
+sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who was so truly the master
+of his point that he could stop a thrust within a fraction of an inch of the
+spot he sought.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad. Bronzed and
+hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none that he might
+talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for that he was taught
+as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking French fluently and English
+poorly&mdash;and waiting impatiently for the day when the old man should send
+him out into the world with clanking armor and lance and shield to do battle
+with the knights of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was about this time that there occurred the first important break in the
+monotony of his existence. Far down the rocky trail that led from the valley
+below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three armored knights urged
+their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill autumn day. Off the main road
+and far from any habitation, they had espied the castle&rsquo;s towers through
+a rift in the hills, and now they spurred toward it in search of food and
+shelter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenly emerged upon
+the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes which caused them to
+draw rein and watch in admiration. There, before them upon the downs, a boy
+battled with a lunging, rearing horse&mdash;a perfect demon of a black horse.
+Striking and biting in a frenzy of rage, it sought ever to escape or injure the
+lithe figure which clung leech-like to its shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy was on the ground. His left hand grasped the heavy mane; his right arm
+lay across the beast&rsquo;s withers and his right hand drew steadily in upon a
+halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch about the horse&rsquo;s
+muzzle. Now the black reared and wheeled, striking and biting, full upon the
+youth, but the active figure swung with him&mdash;always just behind the giant
+shoulder&mdash;and ever and ever he drew the great arched neck farther and
+farther to the right.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged the boy
+with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the grip upon
+mane and withers. Suddenly, he reared straight into the air carrying the youth
+with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himself backward upon the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s death!&rdquo; exclaimed one of the knights, &ldquo;he will
+kill the youth yet, Beauchamp.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No!&rdquo; cried he addressed. &ldquo;Look! He is up again and the boy
+still clings as tightly to him as his own black hide.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis true,&rdquo; exclaimed another, &ldquo;but he hath lost what
+he had gained upon the halter&mdash;he must needs fight it all out again from
+the beginning.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing the iron neck
+slowly to the right&mdash;the beast fighting and squealing as though possessed
+of a thousand devils. A dozen times, as the head bent farther and farther
+toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the mane and reached quickly down to
+grasp the near fore pastern. A dozen times the horse shook off the new hold,
+but at length the boy was successful, and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn
+up to the elbow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feet and his
+neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position. His efforts became
+weaker and weaker. The boy talked incessantly to him in a quiet voice, and
+there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. Now he bore heavily upon the black
+withers, pulling the horse toward him. Slowly the beast sank upon his bent
+knee&mdash;pulling backward until his off fore leg was stretched straight
+before him. Then, with a final surge, the youth pulled him over upon his side,
+and, as he fell, slipped prone beside him. One sinewy hand shot to the rope
+just beneath the black chin&mdash;the other grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, but with his
+head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of the boy as a baby
+would have been. Then he sank panting and exhausted into mute surrender.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well done!&rdquo; cried one of the knights. &ldquo;Simon de Montfort
+himself never mastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the speaker.
+The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood&mdash;the handsome boy
+and the beautiful black&mdash;gazing with startled eyes, like two wild things,
+at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Sir Mortimer!&rdquo; cried the boy, and turning he led the
+prancing but subdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican
+into the court beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What ho, there, lad!&rdquo; shouted Paul of Merely. &ldquo;We would
+not harm thee&mdash;come, we but ask the way to the castle of De
+Stutevill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Sir Knights,&rdquo; spoke Paul of Merely, &ldquo;we will ride
+within and learn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruined grandeur,
+they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in no gentle tones what
+they would of them there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old
+man,&rdquo; replied Paul of Merely. &ldquo;We seek the castle of Sir John de
+Stutevill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to the
+right, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ride north
+beside the river&mdash;thou canst not miss the way&mdash;it be plain as the
+nose before thy face,&rdquo; and with that the old man turned to enter the
+castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold, old fellow!&rdquo; cried the spokesman. &ldquo;It be nigh onto
+sunset now, and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last.
+We will tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journey
+refreshed, upon rested steeds.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in to feed
+and house them over night. But there was nothing else for it, since they would
+have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it voluntarily.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outside their
+Derby hills. The old man showed less interest than he felt, but to the boy,
+notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to him, it was like unto
+a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of earl and baron, bishop and king.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If the King does not mend his ways,&rdquo; said one of the knights,
+&ldquo;we will drive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the
+sea.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all of us,
+both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formed a pact for
+our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that the time for
+temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil war upon his hands,
+he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead of breaking them the
+moment De Montfort&rsquo;s back be turned.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He fears his brother-in-law,&rdquo; interrupted another of the knights,
+&ldquo;even more than the devil fears holy water. I was in attendance on his
+majesty some weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the royal
+barge. We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have ever seen, of
+which the King was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land at the
+Bishop of Durham&rsquo;s palace opposite which we then were. De Montfort, who
+was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all due respect, observing,
+&lsquo;What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed?&rsquo; And what
+thinkest thou old &lsquo;waxen heart&rsquo; replied? Why, still trembling, he
+said, &lsquo;I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but, by the hand of
+God, I tremble before you more than for all the thunder in
+Heaven!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I surmise,&rdquo; interjected the grim, old man, &ldquo;that De Montfort
+has in some manner gained an ascendancy over the King. Think you he looks so
+high as the throne itself?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not so,&rdquo; cried the oldest of the knights. &ldquo;Simon de Montfort
+works for England&rsquo;s weal alone&mdash;and methinks, nay know, that he
+would be first to spring to arms to save the throne for Henry. He but fights
+the King&rsquo;s rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to
+defy the King himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter
+collapse. But, gad, how the King hates him. For a time it seemed that there
+might be a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the disappearance of
+the little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of his time and private
+fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for the little fellow, of
+whom he was inordinately fond. This self-sacrificing interest on his part won
+over the King and Queen for many years, but of late his unremitting hostility
+to their continued extravagant waste of the national resources has again
+hardened them toward him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened, sent the
+youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left to prepare supper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the boy
+intently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome face, clear,
+intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a mass of brown waving
+hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears, where it was again cut
+square at the sides and back, after the fashion of the times.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red, over
+which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was also of leather, a
+soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin. His long hose, fitting his
+shapely legs as closely as another layer of skin, were of the same red wool as
+his tunic, while his strong leather sandals were cross-gartered halfway to his
+knees with narrow bands of leather.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a round
+skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon&rsquo;s wing,
+completed his picturesque and becoming costume.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your son?&rdquo; he asked, turning to the old man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the growling response.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French
+accent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;S blood, Beauchamp,&rdquo; he continued, turning to one of his
+companions, &ldquo;an&rsquo; were he set down in court, I wager our gracious
+Queen would he hard put to it to tell him from the young Prince Edward.
+Dids&rsquo;t ever see so strange a likeness?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed a
+marvel,&rdquo; answered Beauchamp.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would have seen a
+blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a grave
+quiet tone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And how old might you be, my son?&rdquo; he asked the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And your name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son and
+no other ever before addressed me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he would fetch
+more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he had passed the doorway
+and listened from without.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The lad appears about fifteen,&rdquo; said Paul of Merely, lowering his
+voice, &ldquo;and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives. This
+one does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like Prince Edward
+to be his twin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, my son,&rdquo; he continued aloud, &ldquo;open your jerkin and let
+us have a look at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you Englishmen?&rdquo; asked the boy without making a move to comply
+with their demand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That we be, my son,&rdquo; said Beauchamp.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all Englishmen
+are pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France. I do not uncover
+my body to the eyes of swine.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally burst
+into uproarious laughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; cried Paul of Merely, &ldquo;spoken as one of the
+King&rsquo;s foreign favorites might speak, and they ever told the good
+God&rsquo;s truth. But come lad, we would not harm you&mdash;do as I
+bid.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side,&rdquo;
+answered the boy, &ldquo;and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man
+other than my father.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul of Merely,
+but the latter&rsquo;s face hardened in anger, and without further words he
+strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy&rsquo;s leathern
+jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick sharp, &ldquo;En
+garde!&rdquo; from the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, in
+self-defense, for the sharp point of the boy&rsquo;s sword was flashing in and
+out against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs, and the
+boy&rsquo;s tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as it invited him
+to draw and defend himself or be stuck &ldquo;like the English pig you
+are.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing against
+this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm him without harming
+the lad, and he certainly did not care to be further humiliated before his
+comrades.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he discovered that,
+far from disarming him, he would have the devil&rsquo;s own job of it to keep
+from being killed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and
+dexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room, great
+beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he realized that he
+was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grim smiles, and
+presently they looked on with startled faces in which fear and apprehension
+were dominant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse. No sign of exertion was
+apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder than words that he had in
+no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paul of
+Merely always retreating. The din of their clashing swords and the heavy
+breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as they brushed against
+a bench or a table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of dying
+uselessly at the hands of a mere boy. He would not call upon his friends for
+aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between them with drawn
+sword, crying &ldquo;Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have no quarrel. Sheathe
+your swords.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the boy&rsquo;s only response was, &ldquo;En garde, cochon,&rdquo; and
+Beauchamp found himself taking the center of the stage in the place of his
+friend. Nor did the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in
+swordplay that caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their sockets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of gleaming
+light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile had frozen upon
+his lips&mdash;grim and stern.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places when Greystoke
+rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry, gray man leaped
+agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword took his place beside
+the boy. It was now two against three and the three may have guessed, though
+they never knew, that they were pitted against the two greatest swordsmen in
+the world.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To the death,&rdquo; cried the little gray man, &ldquo;à mort, mon
+fils.&rdquo; Scarcely had the words left his lips ere, as though it had but
+waited permission, the boy&rsquo;s sword flashed into the heart of Paul of
+Merely, and a Saxon gentleman was gathered to his fathers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undivided attention
+to Beauchamp. Both these men were considered excellent swordsmen, but when
+Beauchamp heard again the little gray man&rsquo;s &ldquo;à mort, mon
+fils,&rdquo; he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his neck rose
+up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the sentence of death
+passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could vanquish such a
+swordsman as he who now faced him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man led
+Greystoke to where the boy awaited him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of
+revenge; à mort, mon fils.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the lad as a
+great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back not an inch and,
+when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steel protruding from his
+back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the back of
+the ruined castle. First they had stripped them and, when they took account of
+the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richer by three horses with
+full trappings, many pieces of gold and silver money, ornaments and jewels, as
+well as the lances, swords and chain mail armor of their erstwhile guests.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that the knowledge
+of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and Prince Edward of England had
+come to him in time to prevent the undoing of his life&rsquo;s work.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the old man had
+little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to him, obliterating the
+devices so that none might guess to whom it had belonged. This he did, and from
+then on the boy never rode abroad except in armor, and when he met others upon
+the high road, his visor was always lowered that none might see his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The day following the episode of the three knights the old man called the boy
+to him, saying,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions as
+were put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry. Thou art fifteen years of age,
+and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle of Torn, thou
+mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou art Norman of Torn;
+that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchased Torn and brought thee
+hither from France on the death of thy mother, when thou wert six years old.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman is
+the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short years was to
+strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in the vicinity of
+Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<p>
+From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in the
+handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a period was allotted
+to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned sixteen, even the old man
+himself was as but a novice by comparison with the marvelous skill of his
+pupil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions until he
+knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn. Sometimes the old man
+accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small hamlet not
+far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determined to enter and have
+speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural desire for companionship
+was commencing to assert itself. In all his life, he remembered only the
+company of the old man, who never spoke except when necessity required.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushed in,
+without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up with an
+expression of annoyance and disapproval.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;have the King&rsquo;s men respect
+neither for piety nor age that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man
+without so much as a &lsquo;by your leave&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am no king&rsquo;s man,&rdquo; replied the boy quietly. &ldquo;I am
+Norman of Torn, who has neither a king nor a god, and who says &lsquo;by your
+leave&rsquo; to no man. But I have come in peace because I wish to talk to
+another than my father. Therefore you may talk to me, priest,&rdquo; he
+concluded with haughty peremptoriness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me with
+his commands,&rdquo; laughed the priest. &ldquo;Raise your visor, My Lord, I
+would fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands of
+royalty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round jovial face.
+There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort, and so, smiling, the
+boy raised his visor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the ear of Gabriel,&rdquo; cried the good father, &ldquo;a child in
+armor!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A child in years, mayhap,&rdquo; replied the boy, &ldquo;but a good
+child to own as a friend, if one has enemies who wear swords.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have few enemies,
+no man has too many friends, and I like your face and your manner, though there
+be much to wish for in your manners. Sit down and eat with me, and I will talk
+to your heart&rsquo;s content, for be there one other thing I more love than
+eating, it is talking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With the priest&rsquo;s aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavy and
+uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that was already
+partially on the board.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good priest.
+Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend, Father Claude. It
+was he who taught the boy to read and write in French, English and Latin at a
+time when but few of the nobles could sign their own names.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher classes of
+society, and all public documents were inscribed either in French or Latin,
+although about this time the first proclamation written in the English tongue
+was issued by an English king to his subjects.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to espouse the
+cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe that the principal
+reason for man&rsquo;s existence was to protect woman. All of virtue and
+chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected to inculcate in
+the boy&rsquo;s mind, the good priest planted there, but he could not eradicate
+his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that the real test of
+manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with a sword.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy&rsquo;s earlier visits to his
+new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring to bear
+could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the boy&rsquo;s,
+and his ability to back it up with acts, the good father owed a great deal,
+possibly his life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they were seated in the priest&rsquo;s hut one afternoon, a rough knock fell
+upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as disreputable a band
+of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man. Six of them there were, clothed
+in dirty leather, and wearing swords and daggers at their sides.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair and a
+red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard. Behind him
+pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache; while the third
+was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and forehead and from a
+blow which had evidently put out his left eye, for that socket was empty, and
+the sunken eyelid but partly covered the inflamed red of the hollow where his
+eye had been.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A ha, my hearties,&rdquo; roared the leader, turning to his motley crew,
+&ldquo;fine pickings here indeed. A swine of God fattened upon the sweat of
+such poor, honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks, must have
+pieces of gold in his belt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say your prayers, my pigeons,&rdquo; he continued, with a vile oath,
+&ldquo;for The Black Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a
+halter later, and dead men talk the least.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If it be The Black Wolf,&rdquo; whispered Father Claude to the boy,
+&ldquo;no worse fate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and
+when drunk, as he now is, he murders his victims. I will throw myself before
+them while you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make good
+your escape.&rdquo; He spoke in French, and held his hands in the attitude of
+prayer, so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no idea that he
+was communicating with the boy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of the old
+priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he runs
+out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at the front
+door.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friend
+here, nor neither do I care. It is sufficient that he is the friend of Norman
+of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledge the debt of
+friendship. Have at you, sir knights of the great filth and the mighty
+stink!&rdquo; and with drawn sword he vaulted over the table and fell upon the
+surprised leader.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercely did his
+blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment, The Black Wolf
+lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, was badly, though not
+fatally wounded. The four remaining ruffians backed quickly from the hut, and a
+more cautious fighter would have let them go their way in peace, for in the
+open, four against one are odds no man may pit himself against with impunity.
+But Norman of Torn saw red when he fought and the red lured him ever on into
+the thickest of the fray. Only once before had he fought to the death, but that
+once had taught him the love of it, and ever after until his death, it marked
+his manner of fighting; so that men who loathed and hated and feared him were
+as one with those who loved him in acknowledging that never before had God
+joined in the human frame absolute supremacy with the sword and such utter
+fearlessness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, he rushed out
+after the four knaves. Once in the open, they turned upon him, but he sprang
+into their midst with his seething blade, and it was as though they faced four
+men rather than one, so quickly did he parry a thrust here and return a cut
+there. In a moment one was disarmed, another down, and the remaining two
+fleeing for their lives toward the high road with Norman of Torn close at their
+heels.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running as well as in
+swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both had thrown away their
+swords and were on their knees pleading for their lives.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come back to the good priest&rsquo;s hut, and we shall see what he may
+say,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending over his
+wounded comrade. They were brothers, named Flory, and one would not desert the
+other. It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger, so Norman of Torn
+ordered the others to assist him into the hut, where they found Red Shandy
+sitting propped against the wall while the good father poured the contents of a
+flagon down his eager throat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The villain&rsquo;s eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four
+comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory, One
+Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!&rdquo; he ejaculated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Man or devil! By the Pope&rsquo;s hind leg, who and what be ye?&rdquo;
+he said, turning to Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be your master and ye be my men,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn. &ldquo;Me
+ye shall serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but with
+fighting a-plenty and good reward.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon the clergy had
+given rise to an idea in the boy&rsquo;s mind, which had been revolving in a
+nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his subconsciousness since his
+vanquishing of the three knights had brought him, so easily, such riches in the
+form of horses, arms, armor and gold. As was always his wont in his after life,
+to think was to act.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with red
+hot tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of a
+chief,&rdquo; spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, &ldquo;for verily any man,
+be he but a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command
+us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what be the duties?&rdquo; said he whom they called Peter the
+Hermit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and the
+weak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon rich
+Englishmen and harass the King of England.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the ruffians so
+strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even daily mass, and a
+bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the service of Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aye, aye!&rdquo; they cried. &ldquo;We be your men, indeed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn, &ldquo;there is more. You are to obey
+my every command on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are
+to be mine. On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mounts and
+armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for and with you with a
+sword arm which you know to be no mean protector. Are you satisfied?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That we are,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Long live Norman of Torn,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s to the chief of the Torns&rdquo; signified the ready assent
+of the burly cut-throats.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token,&rdquo;
+pursued Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest&rsquo;s table.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few years to
+number a thousand men, and which defied a king&rsquo;s army and helped to make
+Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon neighboring
+barons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be caught in the open
+by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn with many pieces of
+gold and silver, and placed a price upon his head ere he had scarce turned
+eighteen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts, he
+grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger&rsquo;s point upon the foreheads of
+those who fell before his own sword the initials NT.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grim Castle
+of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnished the moat with
+water in bygone days.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed his
+activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly and oppressed. The
+money he took from the King&rsquo;s tax gatherers, he returned to the miserable
+peasants of the district, and once when Henry III sent a little expedition
+against him, he surrounded and captured the entire force, and, stripping them,
+gave their clothing to the poor, and escorted them, naked, back to the very
+gates of London.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself had dubbed
+him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though no man had seen his
+face and lived other than his friends and followers. He had become a power to
+reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel between King Henry and his foreign
+favorites on one side, and the Saxon and Norman barons on the other.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman of Torn had
+preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent. Personally, he had decided
+to join neither party, but to take advantage of the turmoil of the times to
+prey without partiality upon both.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy, ragged
+cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the old man of Torn
+stood watching the little party from one of the small towers of the barbican.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung at his
+side in mimicry of the custom of the times.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What ho, without there!&rdquo; challenged the old man entering grimly
+into the spirit of the play.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis Sir Norman of Torn,&rdquo; spoke up Red Shandy, &ldquo;with
+his great host of noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and
+sumpter beasts. Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of
+Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What means this, my son?&rdquo; said the old man as Norman of Torn
+dismounted within the ballium.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, &ldquo;These,
+then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon the highways and
+into the byways of England, to collect from the rich English pigs that living
+which you have ever taught me was owing us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together we
+shall ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow in
+the land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and shall hate
+and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall never
+dry upon your blade.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after this
+outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By the Pope&rsquo;s hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English.
+There should be great riding after such as he.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ye ride after ME, varlet,&rdquo; cried Norman of Torn, &ldquo;an&rsquo;
+lest ye should forget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a
+reminder,&rdquo; and he struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his
+clenched fist&mdash;so that the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a towering rage. As he
+rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter made no move to draw; he
+but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold, level gaze; his head held
+high, haughty face marked by an arrogant sneer of contempt.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smile overspread his
+countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand of Norman of Torn and
+kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight might have kissed his
+king&rsquo;s hand in proof of his love and fealty. There was a certain rude,
+though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it marked not only the beginning of
+a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of Shandy toward his young master,
+but was prophetic of the attitude which Norman of Torn was to inspire in all
+the men who served him during the long years that saw thousands pass the
+barbicans of Torn to crave a position beneath his grim banner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One Eye Kanty, and
+Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed his hand. From the
+Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man had watched this scene, a
+slight smile upon his old, malicious face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams,&rdquo; he muttered.
+&ldquo;&rsquo;S death, but he be more a king than Henry himself. God speed the
+day of his coronation, when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a
+black cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet the
+platform of a wooden gibbet for a throne.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<p>
+It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rode alone down
+the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which he had replaced the
+hut of his old friend, Father Claude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his person or
+upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank or house. More
+powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he was without rank or other
+title than that of outlaw and he seemed to assume what in reality he held in
+little esteem.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and not because
+he craved the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause, he rode always
+with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon the old man to explain
+the reason which necessitated this precaution.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is enough that I tell you, my son,&rdquo; the old fellow was wont to
+say, &ldquo;that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face
+to your enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I hope,
+when you shall uncover your countenance to all England.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it off as the
+foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a very
+different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before, when, as
+a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of the night, perched
+upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whose metamorphosis to the
+little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent to the castle had marked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than ever in the
+most resplendent days of its past grandeur. The original keep was there with
+its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen foot walls were pierced
+with stairways and vaulted chambers, lighted by embrasures which, mere slits in
+the outer periphery of the walls, spread to larger dimensions within, some even
+attaining the area of small triangular chambers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the castle,
+running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at intervals with
+small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire from long bows, cross
+bows and javelins might be directed against a scaling party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice, which
+natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran the
+tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the valley below.
+The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged beauty. A short
+stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparsely studded with an
+occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view of broad and lovely meadowland
+through which wound a sparkling tributary of the Trent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the north wall and
+one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified with towered and
+buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main gates could be
+reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner gates were similarly
+safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which, spanning the moat when
+lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of an enemy, effectually stopping
+his advance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the direction of
+Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father, were of the Norman
+type of architecture, the windows were larger, the carving more elaborate, the
+rooms lighter and more spacious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten hundred
+fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires, lackeys, cooks,
+scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to care for the
+wants of his little army.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were quartered
+in the great stables, while the east court was alive with cows, oxen, goats,
+sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors to the grim
+pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the neighboring farm lands of
+the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid good gold for their crops.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons who owned the
+land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or give a pennysworth
+of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of death, but nevertheless his
+great carts made their trips regularly and always returned full laden, and
+though the husbandmen told sad tales to their overlords of the awful raids of
+the Devil of Torn in which he seized upon their stuff by force, their tongues
+were in their cheeks as they spoke and the Devil&rsquo;s gold in their pockets.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants&rsquo; love
+for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, their stock, their
+crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestation even though the
+neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked from the wine cellar to the
+ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor did anyone dare ride rough shod over the
+territory which Norman of Torn patrolled. A dozen bands of cut-throats he had
+driven from the Derby hills, and though the barons would much rather have had
+all the rest than he, the peasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the
+lowborn murderers who had been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose
+account the women of the huts and cottages had never been safe.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but they
+loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him to their
+ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and the meadow and the
+chase, for though they were confessed Christians, still in the hearts of many
+beat a faint echo of the old superstitions of their ancestors; and while they
+prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to
+be on the safe side with the others, in case they did happen to exist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, they were;
+accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader and then another
+and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of their feudal lords and
+their rapacious monarchs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for since
+their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors, to England, no
+other hand had ever been raised to shield them from oppression.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and the
+grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter was for
+carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young man would
+neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to molest the lowly.
+A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wild horde than a stout lance
+or an emblazoned shield.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father Claude,
+the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from the copper boss of
+his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen kneeling uncovered by the
+roadside as he passed was not so remarkable after all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Entering the priest&rsquo;s study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay
+back moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong, lithe
+legs stretched out before him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What ails you, my son?&rdquo; asked the priest, &ldquo;that you look so
+disconsolate on this beautiful day?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know, Father,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn, &ldquo;unless it
+be that I am asking myself the question, &lsquo;What it is all for?&rsquo; Why
+did my father train me ever to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there
+is plenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolen
+wealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it? Should I
+stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held by a hempen
+necklace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry? They have quarrel
+enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should have hated
+them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they really are. So it seems
+to me that I am but the instrument of an old man&rsquo;s spite, not even
+knowing the grievance to the avenging of which my life has been dedicated by
+another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the
+nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and never in
+all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt a caress, even
+as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have thought much of it, my son,&rdquo; answered the priest. &ldquo;It
+has ever been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held
+for years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder to
+speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman of Torn, if you
+are not the son of the old man you call father, may God forfend that England
+ever guesses your true parentage. More than this, I dare not say except that,
+as you value your peace of mind and your life, keep your visor down and keep
+out of the clutches of your enemies.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you know why I should keep my visor down?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you
+resemble.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the sound of
+horses&rsquo; hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an instant,
+both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the highroad, five
+knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party of ten or a
+dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching breathless on her palfry, a
+young woman sat a little apart from the contestants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rode to her
+side with some word of command, at the same time grasping roughly at her bridle
+rein. The girl raised her riding whip and struck repeatedly but futilely
+against the iron headgear of her assailant while he swung his horse up the
+road, and, dragging her palfrey after him, galloped rapidly out of sight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored condition,
+leaped to Sir Mortimer&rsquo;s back and spurred swiftly in the direction taken
+by the girl and her abductor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor of his
+rider, soon brought the fugitives to view. Scarce a mile had been covered ere
+the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of Norman of Torn not
+ten paces behind him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knight reined in
+his horse, exclaiming as he did so, &ldquo;Mon Dieu, Edward!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Draw and defend yourself,&rdquo; cried Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, Your Highness,&rdquo; stammered the knight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English
+pigs,&rdquo; cried Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the rider
+draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck the other
+horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the dust of the
+roadway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair battle
+upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor, the knight also
+had the advantage of its protection, so that the two fought furiously for
+several minutes without either gaining an advantage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching every
+move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, but seemed riveted
+to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she was beholding, as well,
+possibly, as by the fascination of the handsome giant who had espoused her
+cause. As she looked upon her champion, she saw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired
+youth whose clear eyes and perfect figure, unconcealed by either bassinet or
+hauberk, reflected the clean, athletic life of the trained fighting man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the sword arm,
+displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played with the
+sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so futilely before
+him. For all the din of clashing blades and rattling armor, neither of the
+contestants had inflicted much damage, for the knight could neither force nor
+insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard of his unarmored foe, who, for his
+part, found difficulty in penetrating the other&rsquo;s armor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade through
+the meshes of his adversary&rsquo;s mail, and the fellow, with a cry of
+anguish, sank limply to the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quick, Sir Knight!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;Mount and flee; yonder
+come his fellows.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he had just
+come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode three steel-armored men on
+their mighty horses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ride, madam,&rdquo; cried Norman of Torn, &ldquo;for fly I shall not,
+nor may I, alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay
+these three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape. Their
+heavy-burdened animals could never o&rsquo;ertake your fleet palfrey.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. That she was a
+lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of her riding apparel
+and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her noble and haughty demeanor
+and the proud expression of her beautiful face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of Norman of
+Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of women, nor had he
+ever spoken with a female of quality or position. No woman graced the castle of
+Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, ever known a mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward men,
+except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in a way, he looked
+up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn looked up to anything:
+God, man or devil&mdash;it being more his way to look down upon all creatures
+whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined to alter the
+entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was beautiful, and that
+she was of that class against whom he had preyed for years with his band of
+outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more to face her enemies with the
+strange inconsistency which had ever marked his methods.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father&rsquo;s castle, but
+today he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her&mdash;had she been
+the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less. It was enough
+that she was a woman and in need of protection.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for fair
+play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But as the leading
+knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried out in surprise and
+consternation:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mon Dieu, le Prince!&rdquo; He wheeled his charging horse to one side.
+His fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them
+dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they had been
+keen to attack.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One would think they had met the devil,&rdquo; muttered Norman of Torn,
+looking after them in unfeigned astonishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What means it, lady?&rdquo; he asked turning to the damsel, who had made
+no move to escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It means that your face is well known in your father&rsquo;s realm, my
+Lord Prince,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;And the King&rsquo;s men have no desire
+to antagonize you, even though they may understand as little as I why you
+should espouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; who else should you be taken for, my Lord?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am not the Prince,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn. &ldquo;It is said that
+Edward is in France.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right you are, sir,&rdquo; exclaimed the girl. &ldquo;I had not thought
+on that; but you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the
+Queen herself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king&rsquo;s son. Who are you
+then, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade,
+daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be you De Montfort&rsquo;s daughter, niece of King Henry?&rdquo; queried
+Norman of Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That I be,&rdquo; replied the girl, &ldquo;an&rsquo; from your face I
+take it you have little love for a De Montfort,&rdquo; she added, smiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you
+niece or daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war
+against women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father&rsquo;s knights,
+to visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know the castle well,&rdquo; answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow
+of a grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed since
+he had reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great baron.
+&ldquo;Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you shall sup
+with your friend before dark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their steps down the
+road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where it had fallen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ride on,&rdquo; he called to Bertrade de Montfort, &ldquo;I will join
+you in an instant.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and lifting
+the dead knight&rsquo;s visor, drew upon the forehead with the point of his
+dagger the letters NT.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her and he
+knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act. Brave daughter of
+a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he did, her heart would have
+quailed within her and she would have fled in terror from the clutches of this
+scourge of England, whose mark she had seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of
+her father&rsquo;s knights and kinsmen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here Norman
+of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more with lowered visor, and
+in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de Montfort that he might watch
+her face, which, of a sudden, had excited his interest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a young
+and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had often seen
+women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and terrible attacks.
+While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of women captives, there was no
+truth in them. They were merely spread by his enemies to incite the people
+against him. Never had Norman of Torn laid violent hand upon a woman, and his
+cut-throat band were under oath to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of
+death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something stirred
+in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years. It was not
+love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for companionship of such
+as she, and such as she represented. Norman of Torn could not have translated
+this feeling into words for he did not know, but it was the far faint cry of
+blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the
+lion among jackals for other lions, but for his lioness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am Nor&mdash;&rdquo; and then he stopped. Always before he had
+answered that question with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought.
+Was it because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of
+this daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fear to face
+the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in that lovely
+face?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am from Normandy,&rdquo; he went on quietly. &ldquo;A gentleman of
+France.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But your name?&rdquo; she said peremptorily. &ldquo;Are you ashamed of
+your name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may call me Roger,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Roger de Conde.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Raise your visor, Roger de Conde,&rdquo; she commanded. &ldquo;I do not
+take pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man
+within.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as he
+rarely did, he was good to look upon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade
+de Montfort,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and health;
+and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as they might have
+been friends of long standing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day,
+attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of Colfax,
+to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily and roughly
+denied by her father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that the old
+reprobate who sued for his daughter&rsquo;s hand heard some unsavory truths
+from the man who had twice scandalized England&rsquo;s nobility by his rude and
+discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to,&rdquo; growled Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;And, as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for
+the asking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much
+indulged in in those days. &ldquo;You may bring me his head upon a golden dish,
+Roger de Conde.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his
+princess the head of her enemy?&rdquo; he asked lightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What boon would the knight ask?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever
+calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and believe
+in his honor and his loyalty.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell her
+that this was more than play.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall be as you say, Sir Knight,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;And the
+boon once granted shall be always kept.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided that he
+liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any other thing he
+knew of. And wishing it, he determined to win it by any means that accorded
+with his standard of honor; an honor which in many respects was higher than
+that of the nobles of his time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and there,
+Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the Baron&rsquo;s
+hospitality overnight.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when added to
+his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he made no effort
+to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire
+household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences of
+painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore his sword
+arm in a sling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have been through grievous times,&rdquo; said Sir John, noticing that
+his guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. &ldquo;That fiend,
+Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us for ten
+days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is no longer safe
+in England with the King spending his time and money with foreign favorites and
+buying alien soldiery to fight against his own barons, instead of insuring the
+peace and protection which is the right of every Englishman at home.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;this outlaw devil will come to the end
+of a short halter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons
+themselves have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not
+subdue him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; he may send the barons naked home as he did the King&rsquo;s
+soldiers,&rdquo; laughed Bertrade de Montfort. &ldquo;I should like to see this
+fellow; what may he look like&mdash;from the appearance of yourself, Sir John,
+and many of your men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us,&rdquo; replied
+the Baron, &ldquo;but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him
+and that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and having
+one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his chin.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A fearful apparition,&rdquo; murmured Norman of Torn. &ldquo;No wonder
+he keeps his helm closed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But such a swordsman,&rdquo; spoke up a son of De Stutevill.
+&ldquo;Never in all the world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the
+courtyard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay,&rdquo; said Bertrade de
+Montfort, &ldquo;and that today. O he!&rdquo; she cried, laughing gleefully,
+&ldquo;verily do I believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this
+very knight, who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne&rsquo;er saw man
+fight before, and he rode with his visor down until I chid him for it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company he most
+enjoyed the joke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; speaking of the Devil,&rdquo; said the Baron, &ldquo;how think
+you he will side should the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his
+thousand hell-hounds, the fate of England might well be in the palm of his
+bloody hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He loves neither King nor baron,&rdquo; spoke Mary de Stutevill,
+&ldquo;and I rather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather
+plunder the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be absent
+at war.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcome
+him,&rdquo; said De Stutevill, ruthfully. &ldquo;But yet I am always in fear
+for the safety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time.
+May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I think you may have no need of fear on that score,&rdquo; spoke Mary,
+&ldquo;for Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of
+Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was the great
+outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailed hand as to
+crack the ruffian&rsquo;s helm, saying at the time, &lsquo;Know you, fellow,
+Norman of Torn does not war upon women?&rsquo;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn heard no
+more of himself during that evening.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and then, on
+the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an embrasure of the south
+tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of the necessity for leaving and
+once more she urged him to remain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort,&rdquo; he said boldly, &ldquo;I
+would forego any other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger,
+but there are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away from
+you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father, Simon de
+Montfort, in Leicester. Provided,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that you will welcome
+me there.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde,&rdquo;
+replied the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Remember that promise,&rdquo; he said smiling. &ldquo;Some day you may
+be glad to repudiate it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never,&rdquo; she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she
+said it would have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women than
+was Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope not,&rdquo; he said gravely. &ldquo;I cannot tell you, being but
+poorly trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you might
+know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade de
+Montfort,&rdquo; and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few minutes
+later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at the castle and
+there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a young woman who raised her
+hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden impulse, threw a kiss after the
+departing knight, only to disappear from the embrasure with the act.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, he had
+much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he realized what might
+lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of bitterness toward the
+hard, old man whom he called father, and whose teachings from the boy&rsquo;s
+earliest childhood had guided him in the ways that had cut him off completely
+from the society of other men, except the wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and
+adventurers that rode beneath the grisly banner of the young chief of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl who had
+come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel shame for his
+past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so he could not know that
+he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his strange
+likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with the words of
+Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was it a heinous offence
+to own an accidental likeness to a king&rsquo;s son?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with closed
+helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face from the sight
+of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from some inward impulse which
+he did not attempt to fathom.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father Claude
+dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. The austere
+stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory reputation,
+always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest; not alone because
+of the deep friendship which the master of Torn felt for the good father, but
+through the personal charm, and lovableness of the holy man&rsquo;s nature,
+which shone alike on saint and sinner.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman, during
+the period that the boy&rsquo;s character was most amenable to strong
+impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respects pure and
+lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won for Father Claude his only
+enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose sole aim in life seemed to
+have been to smother every finer instinct of chivalry and manhood in the boy,
+to whose training he had devoted the past nineteen years of his life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey&mdash;fat people do not
+&ldquo;dismount&rdquo;&mdash;a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist
+him, and to lead the animal to the stables.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a question
+here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity that bespoke
+mutual affection and old acquaintance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him laughing,
+though respectful, welcomes and within the great court, beautified with smooth
+lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues and small shrubs and bushes,
+he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now the principal lieutenant of Norman of
+Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good morrow, Saint Claude!&rdquo; cried the burly ruffian. &ldquo;Hast
+come to save our souls, or damn us? What manner of sacrilege have we committed
+now, or have we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come to scold, or
+praise?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Neither, thou unregenerate villain,&rdquo; cried the priest, laughing.
+&ldquo;Though methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with
+which thou didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tut, tut, Father,&rdquo; replied Red Shandy. &ldquo;We did but aid him
+to adhere more closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and
+disciple he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of His Church to
+walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be ever surrounded with
+the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold, to say nothing of two
+sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of wine
+as may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had finished with
+him,&rdquo; exclaimed Father Claude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Father,&rdquo; laughed the great fellow, &ldquo;for the sake of
+Holy Church, I did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you
+must needs have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and
+you shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwich
+displays in the selection of his temptations.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
+Shandy,&rdquo; continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
+outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the sun
+was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that single article
+of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays of old sol. Then,
+fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandals of the road, he had
+One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so that it could not be
+removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strapped face to tail upon a donkey,
+he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattling down the dusty road with his head,
+at least, protected from the idle gaze of whomsoever he might chance to meet.
+Forty stripes he gave to each of the Bishop&rsquo;s retinue for being abroad in
+bad company; but come, here we are where you shall have the wine as proof of my
+tale.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop&rsquo;s good Canary, the little old man of
+Torn entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if he knew
+aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in
+the direction of your cottage,&rdquo; he concluded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, yes,&rdquo; said the priest, &ldquo;I saw him that day. He had an
+adventure with several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he
+rescued a damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be of the
+house of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son did not say whither or
+for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned his armor, while the girl
+waited without, was that I should now behold the falcon guarding the dove. Has
+he not returned?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;and doubtless his adventure is of a
+nature in line with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed my
+training, without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an iron-barred
+nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English nobility. An&rsquo;
+thou leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service in the household of
+the King.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here,&rdquo; said the
+priest quietly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why say you that?&rdquo; snapped the little old man, eyeing Father
+Claude narrowly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; laughed the priest, &ldquo;because he whose power and mien be
+even more kingly than the King&rsquo;s would rightly grace the royal
+palace,&rdquo; but he had not failed to note the perturbation his remark had
+caused, nor did his off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy&rsquo;s presence was
+required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful glance
+at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was presently
+broken by the old man of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Priest,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;thy ways with my son are, as you know,
+not to my liking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious
+time from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what benefit may a
+knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him. It may be years
+and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be a devil in hell, Norman
+of Torn will swing from a king&rsquo;s gibbet. And thou knowst it, and he too,
+as well as I. The things which thou hast taught him be above his station, and
+the hopes and ambitions they inspire will but make his end the bitterer for
+him. Of late I have noted that he rides upon the highway with less enthusiasm
+than was his wont, but he has gone too far ever to go back now; nor is there
+where to go back to. What has he ever been other than outcast and outlaw? What
+hopes could you have engendered in his breast greater than to be hated and
+feared among his blood enemies?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know not thy reasons, old man,&rdquo; replied the priest, &ldquo;for
+devoting thy life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare
+not voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For all thou dost
+and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature, I have done and
+shall continue to do all in my power to controvert. As thou hast been his bad
+angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and when all is said and done and
+Norman of Torn swings from the King&rsquo;s gibbet, as I only too well fear he
+must, there will be more to mourn his loss than there be to curse him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the friends
+and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more greatly to his
+honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his honor
+when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be forgotten in the
+greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel
+and degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlaw of
+Torn, it will be thou&mdash;I had almost said, unnatural father; but I do not
+believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of him thou
+callest son.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment, his
+face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and rage, but he
+permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear,&rdquo; he said
+bitterly, &ldquo;but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past
+there has been peace between us, though no love; now let us both understand
+that it be war and hate. My life work is cut out for me. Others, like thyself,
+have stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they? Dost understand
+me, priest?&rdquo; And the old man leaned far across the table so that his
+eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a few inches from those
+of the priest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the door,
+which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of permission.
+Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of Torn, and his face
+lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Greetings, my son,&rdquo; said the priest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And to thee, Father,&rdquo; replied the outlaw. &ldquo;And what may be
+the news of Torn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the
+castle?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All be well at the castle,&rdquo; replied Father Claude, &ldquo;if by
+that you mean have none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy,
+why wilt thou not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never been my way
+to scold or chide thee, yet always has my heart ached for each crime laid at
+the door of Norman of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come, Father,&rdquo; replied the outlaw, &ldquo;what do I that I
+have not good example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church.
+Murder, theft, rapine! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all
+perpetrated in the name of some of these?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous for
+the wolf to tear the sheep? Methinks not. Only do I collect from those who have
+more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they prey upon those who
+have naught.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; and his manner suddenly changed, &ldquo;I do not love it,
+Father. That thou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but
+there is none.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can I
+myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of this life is
+due to the fact that I crave the association of those very enemies I have been
+taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, there can be but one end and that
+the lower end of a hempen rope.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way,&rdquo; replied the
+good Father. &ldquo;In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for
+such as thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman of
+Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the highest of the
+land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do not raise your hand. You be
+all these and more, for you have learning far beyond the majority of nobles,
+and you have a good heart and a true chivalry of character. With such wondrous
+gifts, naught could bar your way to the highest pinnacles of power and glory,
+while here you have no future beyond the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of
+Torn?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across his eyes
+as though to brush away a vision.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
+least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<p>
+The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill was drawing
+to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had ridden out from the
+portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome young knight&rsquo;s name had
+been on the lips of his fair hostess and her fairer friend.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great court, their
+arms about each other&rsquo;s waists, pouring the last confidences into each
+other&rsquo;s ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return to Leicester.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade,&rdquo; said Mary.
+&ldquo;Were my father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with
+only the small escort which we be able to give.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fear not, Mary,&rdquo; replied Bertrade. &ldquo;Five of thy
+father&rsquo;s knights be ample protection for so short a journey. By evening
+it will have been accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts
+received such a sound setback from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he
+will venture again to molest me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?&rdquo; urged Mary.
+&ldquo;Only yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey&rsquo;s men-at-arms came
+limping to us with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on
+his master&rsquo;s household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I can think of
+naught more horrible than to fall into his hands.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman of Torn
+was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father&rsquo;s castle. How
+be it thou so soon hast changed thy mind?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what horrid
+freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond compare.
+Again, forget not that thou be Leicester&rsquo;s daughter and Henry&rsquo;s
+niece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred and his
+vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure my father must
+return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee instead of five.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is on
+a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five knights
+were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a mouthful to that
+horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shall start tomorrow and your
+good knights shall return the following day with the best of word from
+me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If thou wilt, thou wilt,&rdquo; cried Mary petulantly. &ldquo;Indeed
+it were plain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be
+second only to their historic stubbornness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad to
+protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of a truth,
+his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I e&rsquo;er saw fight
+before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Methinks,&rdquo; said Mary, still peeved at her friend&rsquo;s
+determination to leave on the morrow, &ldquo;that should you meet the doughty
+Sir Roger all unarmed, that still would you send back my father&rsquo;s
+knights.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount to her
+cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou be a fool, Mary,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the discomfiture of
+the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but now
+I see that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to look upon, but what
+knowest thou of him?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hush, Mary!&rdquo; commanded Bertrade. &ldquo;Thou know not what thou
+sayest. I would not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and
+then&mdash;it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no word
+hath he sent.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, ho,&rdquo; cried the little plague, &ldquo;so there lies the wind?
+My Lady would not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has
+sent her no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will not talk with you, Mary,&rdquo; cried Bertrade, stamping her
+sandaled foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward
+the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides of a
+little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout. His red,
+bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner of his life;
+while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby over his receding
+chin, indicated the base passions to which his life had been given. His
+companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit of armor and closed helm
+gave no hint to his host of whom his guest might be. It was the little armored
+man who was speaking.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;that you must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be
+the passion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the maiden;
+give me ten knights and I will bring her to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father&rsquo;s
+castle?&rdquo; asked Peter of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, if
+thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we may
+take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of
+Leicester&rsquo;s to catch him in some trap. He did not know his
+guest&mdash;the fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this
+method of obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the little, armored man irritably. &ldquo;I cannot
+bide here forever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge,
+and if thou wilt not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and then not
+even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is agreed,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The men shall ride out with you in
+half an hour. Wait below in the courtyard.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned his squire
+whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Guy,&rdquo; said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, &ldquo;ye made a
+rare fizzle of a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I
+speak?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve thy
+blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in the courtyard
+below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye lost to a handful
+of men before. You understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us. At
+the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay him. Tell
+the others that these be my orders.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;At once. You may go.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her
+father&rsquo;s castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary de
+Stutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting out upon such a
+dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de Montfort was firm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly that
+even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. I shall have
+enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add even one more day to my
+excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and my father may be sore distressed
+by my continued absence. No, Mary, I must ride today.&rdquo; And so she did,
+with the five knights that could be spared from the castle&rsquo;s defence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so that they
+were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road, wrapped in
+mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and wind increased in volume,
+until it was being driven into their faces in such blinding gusts that they
+must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to the instincts of their mounts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were winding across a
+little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest, into the somber
+shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint of armor among the drenched
+foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the riders saw it not. On they came,
+their patient horses plodding slowly through the sticky road and hurtling
+storm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now they were halfway up the ridge&rsquo;s side. There was a movement in the
+dark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band of
+steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at full run down
+upon them, they overthrew three of the girl&rsquo;s escort before a blow could
+be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeled to meet the
+return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for it took the entire
+eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slay the two.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of her assailants, a
+little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs to her palfrey and
+escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at a rapid pace in pursuit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de Montfort urged
+her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the arms of Peter of Colfax
+on the shields of several of the attacking party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beasts of her
+pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tethered in their
+stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying white steed that
+fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies through the clouds.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man&rsquo;s foresight,
+Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As it was,
+however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere, in the
+midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched across the roadway
+between two trees.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope, Bertrade
+de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little, limp bedraggled
+figure, in the mud of the road.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount, so
+indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of Colfax, it was
+all the same to him. In either event, his purpose would be accomplished, and
+Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman of Torn from the path he had
+laid out for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the Spaniard, the
+single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose mean aid the little
+grim, gray man had purchased since many months to spy upon the comings and
+goings of the great outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade de
+Montfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the man called Guy, &ldquo;if there be life left in
+her, we must hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I leave ye here,&rdquo; said the little old man. &ldquo;My part of the
+business is done.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest toward the
+castle of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five knights of
+Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the other two, sorely but not
+mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and, with his
+long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then, drawing his dagger, he
+made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of the five, and mounting, rode
+rapidly toward Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if one fact be not enough,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;that mark upon
+the dead will quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of
+Torn and Leicester.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of a dozen
+of his father&rsquo;s knights on the road to Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and Princess Eleanor,
+his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their oldest son off to
+the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly along the
+muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a white palfrey standing
+huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward the driving storm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God,&rdquo; cried De Montfort, &ldquo;tis my sister&rsquo;s own
+Abdul. There be something wrong here indeed.&rdquo; But a rapid search of the
+vicinity, and loud calls brought no further evidence of the girl&rsquo;s
+whereabouts, so they pressed on toward Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found, they
+came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied Bertrade from
+Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men. The arms
+upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had been
+Bertrade&rsquo;s escort from Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, there stared
+up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreaded sign, NT,
+scratched there with a dagger&rsquo;s point.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The curse of God be on him!&rdquo; cried De Montfort. &ldquo;It be the
+work of the Devil of Torn, my gentlemen,&rdquo; he said to his followers.
+&ldquo;Come, we need no further guide to our destination.&rdquo; And,
+remounting, the little party spurred back toward Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a strange
+room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless old woman, whose
+smile was but a fangless snarl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ho, ho!&rdquo; she croaked. &ldquo;The bride waketh. I told My Lord that
+it would take more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come,
+now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom can scarce
+restrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in the great hall he
+paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous countenance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye?&rdquo; cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from
+the effects of her fall. &ldquo;Where am I?&rdquo; and then, &ldquo;O, Mon
+Dieu!&rdquo; as she remembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of
+Colfax upon the shields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the
+horror of her predicament; its utter hopelessness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the King; and
+the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause with Henry, for it
+was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she was the daughter of Simon
+de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet, and
+presently a man&rsquo;s voice at the door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Within there, Coll! Has the damsel awakened from her swoon?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Sir Peter,&rdquo; replied the old woman. &ldquo;I was but just
+urging her to arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her
+below.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Haste then, My Lady Bertrade,&rdquo; called the man, &ldquo;no harm will
+be done thee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will
+await thee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, will come to thee
+here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the tones of
+her answer were calm and level.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon,&rdquo; and rising, she hastened
+to dress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down the
+stairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl would not
+talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible means of escape.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter of Colfax.
+The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in the apartment since the
+days of Ethelwolf. As the girl&rsquo;s glance ranged the hall in search of her
+jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windows beyond which lay freedom.
+Would she ever again breathe God&rsquo;s pure air outside these stifling walls?
+These grimy hateful walls! Black as the inky rafters and wainscot except for
+occasional splotches a few shades less begrimed, where repairs had been made.
+As her eyes fell upon the trophies of war and chase which hung there her lips
+curled in scorn, for she knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather
+than by the personal prowess of the present master of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from a small
+wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather to accentuate the dim
+shadows of the place.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table, blackened by
+age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented and nicked by the
+pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when wild and lusty brawlers
+had been moved to applause by the lay of some wandering minstrel, or the
+sterner call of their mighty chieftains for the oath of fealty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy chairs
+which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and she shuddered.
+One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor which was littered
+with a miscellany of rushes interspread with such bones and scraps of food as
+the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but passing
+heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly have the
+encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store for her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that in
+addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, where she had
+entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall. This was at one
+side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it led into a small room,
+apparently a bedchamber.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her and
+directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From the black
+mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closed the panel
+after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl. At the edge of
+the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract her attention.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his
+appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery
+against thy neighbor&rsquo;s daughter and thy sovereign&rsquo;s niece?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent,&rdquo; replied the
+pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, &ldquo;love must still find
+its way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great father and
+majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous Bertrade, knowing
+full well that thine hath been hungering after it since we did first avow our
+love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I kneel to thee, my dove!&rdquo; And with
+cracking joints the fat baron plumped down upon his marrow bones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into a
+sneering smile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou art a fool, Sir Peter,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and, at that, the
+worst species of fool&mdash;an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause,
+for I will have none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word
+of what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, &rsquo;tis all
+I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would have. I
+do not love you, nor ever can I.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already ruby
+visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise with dignity,
+he was still further covered with confusion by the fact that his huge stomach
+made it necessary for him to go upon all fours before he could rise, so that he
+got up much after the manner of a cow, raising his stern high in air in a most
+ludicrous fashion. As he gained his feet he saw the girl turn her head from him
+to hide the laughter on her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Return to thy chamber,&rdquo; he thundered. &ldquo;I will give thee
+until tomorrow to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy
+husband, or take another position in his household which will bar thee for all
+time from the society of thy kind.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,
+degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast not the
+guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well ye know that
+Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own hand if he ever
+suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daughter.&rdquo; And
+Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and mounted to her tower
+chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late the following
+afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before him once more. So
+terribly had the old hag played upon the girl&rsquo;s fears that she felt fully
+certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire threat, and so she had again
+been casting about for some means of escape or delay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the castle, fully
+a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasure overlooked. There
+was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction. The solitary door was
+furnished with huge oaken bars, and itself composed of mighty planks of the
+same wood, cross barred with iron.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she could barricade
+herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate in the hope that
+succor might come from some source. But her most subtle wiles proved
+ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpy jailer; and now
+that the final summons had come, she was beside herself for a lack of means to
+thwart her captor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the old
+woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the old
+woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl&rsquo;s body
+to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached quickly to her
+side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quickly she sprang back from the
+old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm, rushed upon her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Back!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt
+feel the length of thine own blade.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a most horrible
+manner, at the same time calling for help.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where she was,
+on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into place. Scarcely had
+the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of Colfax, with a dozen servants
+and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly upon the outside.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s wrong within, Coll,&rdquo; cried the Baron.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me,&rdquo;
+shrieked the old woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An&rsquo; that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax,&rdquo; spoke Bertrade,
+&ldquo;if you do not immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy
+castle, for I will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own
+people stand without.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all in vain. So
+passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle the Baron
+desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding her
+prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single second. All
+that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it found her position
+unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade her to
+come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct to her
+father&rsquo;s castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be fooled by his
+lying tongue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then will I starve you out,&rdquo; he cried at length.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul
+hands,&rdquo; replied the girl. &ldquo;But thy old servant here will starve
+first, for she be very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it
+profit you to kill two and still be robbed of thy prey?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would carry out
+her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels, axes and saws upon
+the huge door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was late at
+night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a hand and arm, but
+the first one intruded within the room to raise the bars was drawn quickly back
+with a howl of pain from its owner. Thus the keen dagger in the girl&rsquo;s
+hand put an end to all hopes of entering without completely demolishing the
+door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter of
+Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had made.
+Bertrade replied but once.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Seest thou this poniard?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;When that door falls,
+this point enters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou,
+poltroon, to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the first time
+during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance from the old hag. It
+was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a tigress the old woman was
+upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the wrist which held the dagger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quick, My Lord!&rdquo; she shrieked, &ldquo;the bolts, quick.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the door and
+a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old woman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade&rsquo;s fingers, and at the
+Baron&rsquo;s bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode back and
+forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he stopped before the
+girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?&rdquo; he asked
+angrily. &ldquo;I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter
+of Colfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what be
+your answer now?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The same as it has been these past two days,&rdquo; she replied with
+haughty scorn. &ldquo;The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife
+nor mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die, it
+seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to touch me,
+you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king, wed to the warty
+toad, Peter of Colfax!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold, chit!&rdquo; cried the Baron, livid with rage. &ldquo;You have
+gone too far. Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to
+love ere the sun rises.&rdquo; And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly
+by the arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<p>
+For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his sojourn at
+the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with his wild horde in
+reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a royalist baron who had
+captured and hanged two of the outlaw&rsquo;s fighting men; and never again
+after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of the barons did Norman of
+Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their friends.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of his
+expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a dozen armed
+knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn the mission of the
+party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible and unhospitable fortress;
+and he well knew that no party of a dozen knights would venture with hostile
+intent within the clutches of his great band of villains.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort, oldest
+son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce and would have
+speech with the master of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Admit them, Shandy,&rdquo; commanded Norman of Torn, &ldquo;I will speak
+with them here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it found
+itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be ye Norman of Torn?&rdquo; he asked. And, did he try to conceal the
+hatred and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They call me so,&rdquo; replied the visored knight. &ldquo;And what may
+bring a De Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; replied the young
+man. &ldquo;It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you
+have us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid, only be
+quick and let me hence with my sister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean
+you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days
+since, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were fetching her
+home from a visit upon the Baron&rsquo;s daughter. We know that it was you for
+the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil&rsquo;s mark.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shandy!&rdquo; roared Norman of Torn. &ldquo;WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has
+been upon the road, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge
+during my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the
+truth!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served you
+well, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and that never
+have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor is it the first
+time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their dead that they might
+thus escape suspicion, themselves.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Henry de Montfort,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor,
+&ldquo;we of Torn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may
+say that we unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I give
+you the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They say you never lie,&rdquo; replied De Montfort. &ldquo;Would to God
+I knew who had done this thing, or which way to search for my sister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and it was
+with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or his rage against
+the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his whole being.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed the
+drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and the noise
+and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried their mailed
+riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman the Devil, riding at
+their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the castle of Peter of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn&rsquo;s buttressed
+gates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient banded mail
+of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan. Gold and silver and
+precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate and shield, and even in the
+steel spiked chamfrons of the horses&rsquo; head armor showed the rich loot
+which had fallen to the portion of Norman of Torn&rsquo;s wild raiders.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the gray banner
+of Torn, with the black falcon&rsquo;s wing, flew above each of the five
+companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were covered with gray
+leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was the black
+falcon&rsquo;s wing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, being of
+dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstanding the
+richness of the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim, gray warlike
+appearance to these wild companies that comported well with their reputation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country of Europe,
+the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf and noble; Briton,
+Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot, Pict and Irish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall marks of his
+brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder to shoulder with the
+outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisites for admission to the troop
+were willingness and ability to fight, and an oath to obey the laws made by
+Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, each company
+captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first three
+companies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasoned veterans
+of a thousand fights.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important post of
+chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five cut-throats whom
+Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before, in the hut of Father
+Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle of Torn, which post included
+also the vital functions of quartermaster and commissary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in the art of
+war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the companies, due to
+their constant encounters upon the highroad and their battles at the taking of
+some feudal castle; in which they did not always come off unscathed, though
+usually victorious.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at the head of
+the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column. Above his gray
+steel armor, a falcon&rsquo;s wing rose from his crest. It was the insignia
+which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle. Where it waved might
+always be found the fighting and the honors, and about it they were wont to
+rally.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;
+nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: Red Shandy;
+John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy; and Sieur
+Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early afternoon
+brought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave God-speed to them; but
+as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn, where the black falcon wing
+was known more by the ferocity of its name than by the kindly deeds of the
+great outlaw to the lowly of his neighborhood, they saw only closed and barred
+doors with an occasional frightened face peering from a tiny window.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouetted against
+the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest a half mile from
+the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy and some fifty men to a
+point as close as they could come without being observed. Here they dismounted
+and Norman of Torn crept stealthily forward alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of the great
+gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shone dimly from the
+windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was apparent. To his
+intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge lowered and no sign of
+watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with its
+internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could reach a small
+antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of the
+little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood a strange
+knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girl saw him too, and
+a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Draw!&rdquo; commanded a low voice in English, &ldquo;unless you prefer
+to pray, for you are about to die.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye, varlet?&rdquo; cried the Baron. &ldquo;Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To
+the rescue, quick!&rdquo; he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to
+back quickly toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon
+him and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John and Guy
+and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ware! Sir Knight,&rdquo; cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves
+rushing to the aid of their master.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon the
+terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the doorway
+bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions, and running
+quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threw the key with all
+her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instant she regretted her act,
+for she saw that where she might have reduced her rescuer&rsquo;s opponents by
+at least one, she had now forced the cowardly Baron to remain, and nothing
+fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and for an
+instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition of
+swordsmanship she was witnessing.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same time, the
+silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced them steadily back;
+his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel about them. Suddenly his
+sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in the heart of one of his
+opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor, it was flashing again close to
+the breasts of the two remaining men-at-arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl&rsquo;s
+attention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfax was
+moving&mdash;slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, toward the
+visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a finger or
+to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining control of her
+muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy foot-stool, hurled it full
+at Peter of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as the
+knight&rsquo;s sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported the only
+lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all was darkness. There was
+a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats and then the quiet of the
+tomb settled upon the great hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?&rdquo; asked a grave English
+voice out of the darkness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Quite, Sir Knight,&rdquo; she replied, &ldquo;and you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin long
+dagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon
+you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the room. Soon
+he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeble rays slowly
+penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of the three men-at-arms,
+the overturned table and lamp, and the visored knight; but Peter of Colfax was
+gone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed a low,
+grim laugh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How know you my name?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;Who may you be? I do not
+recognize your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled with
+the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde who had saved
+her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short weeks since. Surely
+it was the same straight and mighty figure, and there was the marvelous
+swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger de Conde had spoken no English
+while this man spoke it well, though, it was true, with a slight French accent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn,&rdquo; said the visored knight
+with quiet dignity.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl&rsquo;s heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. For
+years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred against
+her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by the vaguest hint
+that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had come to whisper the
+name with grim, set lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn!&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;May God have mercy on my
+soul!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across the
+countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of hopelessness,
+shook his giant frame.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need not fear, My Lady,&rdquo; he said sadly. &ldquo;You shall be in
+your father&rsquo;s castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be
+safer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own mighty
+father, or your royal uncle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; spoke the girl,
+&ldquo;and I believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De
+Montfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
+Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me to do as
+I do, that is all. Come.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered drawbridge, to
+where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in answer to a low
+challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it was he.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,
+alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady&rsquo;s cloak and a palfrey&mdash;and
+Shandy, when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,
+Shandy.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been a
+weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object of his
+many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern and
+signing him to listen, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for the
+love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague generality.
+Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade de Montfort, and
+that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy, from tower to scullery,
+but in the service of My Lady, no looting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord,&rdquo; answered Shandy, and departed with his little
+detachment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has flown, My Lord,&rdquo; the big fellow reported, and indeed it was
+true. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle and, by
+a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some priests without
+the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he was several miles on his way to
+the coast and France; for he had recognized the swordsmanship of the outlaw,
+and did not care to remain in England and face the wrath of both Norman of Torn
+and Simon de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He will return,&rdquo; was the outlaw&rsquo;s only comment, when he had
+been fully convinced that the Baron had escaped.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places, the
+prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully expecting a
+summary and horrible death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now save the
+doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the warriors filed down
+the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de Montfort, leaving their
+erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed and free.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames that sprang
+high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smoke rolled southward
+across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear away from the burning castle
+for an instant to show the black walls pierced by their hundreds of embrasures,
+each lit up by the red of the raging fire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive
+spectacle, but one so common in those fierce, wild days, that none thought it
+worthy of more than a passing backward glance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended their slow
+way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was both elated and sad. Elated
+that he had been in time to save this girl who awakened such strange emotions
+in his breast; sad that he was a loathsome thing in her eyes. But that it was
+pure happiness just to be near her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow,
+what use to think! The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he
+did not dare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfort
+to Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlaw swore
+quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ride without either
+fighting or loot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe her life
+and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especial hatred against
+her family, because of its relationship to the house of Plantagenet. She could
+not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken for so rough a man; she wondered
+what manner of countenance might lie beneath that barred visor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle&rsquo;s cantel
+and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air was chilly, and
+again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad place in the road, lest
+the beast might slip and fall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond that, no
+word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about midday within sight
+of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of so large
+a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailing distance, the
+walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the castle
+walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De
+Montfort,&rdquo; replied Shandy. &ldquo;He would enter with one companion, my
+Lord Earl.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort&mdash;thinks
+he that I keep a robbers&rsquo; roost!&rdquo; cried the fierce old warrior.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England,&rdquo; boasted
+the red giant. &ldquo;Will you see him in peace, My Lord?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let him enter,&rdquo; said De Montfort, &ldquo;but no knavery, now, we
+are a thousand men here, well armed and ready fighters.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of Torn and
+Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath the portcullis of
+the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of Henry III of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it had been
+raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father&rsquo;s men without
+being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de Montfort, and his
+sons Henry and Simon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside the
+outlaw&rsquo;s cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What means this,&rdquo; cried De Montfort, &ldquo;has the rascal offered
+you harm or indignity?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You craven liar,&rdquo; cried Henry de Montfort, &ldquo;but yesterday
+you swore upon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool,
+believed.&rdquo; And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman of
+Torn with drawn sword.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew from its
+scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the blade of young De
+Montfort hurtling across the courtyard; and then, before either could take
+another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung between them and placing a hand
+upon the breastplate of the outlaw, stretched forth the other with palm
+out-turned toward her kinsmen as though to protect Norman of Torn from further
+assault.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be he outlaw or devil,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;he is a brave and
+courteous knight, and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best
+hospitality they can give, and not cold steel and insults.&rdquo; Then she
+explained briefly to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen
+during the past few days.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the first to
+step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and to ask his
+pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of
+Torn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing moment;
+but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude, but let them not
+blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil, and that you have seen
+my mark upon the brows of your dead. I would gladly have your friendship, but I
+wish it for the man, Norman of Torn, with all his faults, as well as what
+virtues you may think him to possess.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are right, sir,&rdquo; said the Earl, &ldquo;you have our gratitude
+and our thanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and
+ever during our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery and
+your candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not break bread
+at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the right to do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your speech is that of a wise and careful man,&rdquo; said Norman of
+Torn quietly. &ldquo;I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel
+with the House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they are
+at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye.&rdquo; But as he turned to go,
+Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must take my hand in friendship,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;for, to my
+dying day, I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror
+from which he has rescued me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee raised
+them to his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;To no other&mdash;woman, man, king, God, or devil&mdash;has Norman of
+Torn bent the knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his
+services are yours for the asking.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of the castle of
+Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his five hundred men at his
+back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in the roadway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A strange man,&rdquo; said Simon de Montfort, &ldquo;both good and bad,
+but from today, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were
+other than he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies of
+England, an he could be persuaded to our cause.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who knows,&rdquo; said Henry de Montfort, &ldquo;but that an offer of
+friendship might have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech
+was a note of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<p>
+Several days after Norman of Torn&rsquo;s visit to the castle of Leicester, a
+young knight appeared before the Earl&rsquo;s gates demanding admittance to
+have speech with Simon de Montfort. The Earl received him, and as the young man
+entered his presence, Simon de Montfort sprang to his feet in astonishment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord Prince,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;What do ye here, and
+alone?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The young man smiled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be no prince, My Lord,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;though some have said
+that I favor the King&rsquo;s son. I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have
+pleased your gracious daughter to mention. I have come to pay homage to
+Bertrade de Montfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially,
+&ldquo;an you be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows
+of Peter of Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her return.
+She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father. She has told us of
+your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her brothers and mother
+await you, Roger de Conde.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until I
+saw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different mothers and yet
+be so identical. Come, we will seek out my daughter and her mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were greeted by
+Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort. The girl was frankly
+glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him because he had allowed
+another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her from Peter of Colfax.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And to think,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;that it should have been Norman
+of Torn who fulfilled your duties for you. But he did not capture Sir
+Peter&rsquo;s head, my friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon
+a golden dish.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade,&rdquo; said Roger de Conde.
+&ldquo;Peter of Colfax will return.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The very words of the Outlaw of Torn,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;How many
+men be ye, Roger de Conde? With raised visor, you could pass in the
+King&rsquo;s court for the King&rsquo;s son; and in manner, and form, and
+swordsmanship, and your visor lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of
+Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And which would it please ye most that I be?&rdquo; he laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Neither,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;I be satisfied with my friend,
+Roger de Conde.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;So ye like not the Devil of Torn?&rdquo; he asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligations to
+him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of an earl and
+a king&rsquo;s sister.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A most unbridgeable gulf indeed,&rdquo; commented Roger de Conde, drily.
+&ldquo;Not even gratitude could lead a king&rsquo;s niece to receive Norman of
+Torn on a footing of equality.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He has my friendship, always,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;but I doubt
+me if Norman of Torn be the man to impose upon it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;One can never tell,&rdquo; said Roger de Conde, &ldquo;what manner of
+fool a man may be. When a man&rsquo;s head be filled with a pretty face, what
+room be there for reason?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning of
+pretty compliments,&rdquo; said the girl coldly; &ldquo;and I like not
+courtiers, nor their empty, hypocritical chatter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I turned a compliment, I did not know it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What
+I think, I say. It may not be a courtly speech or it may. I know nothing of
+courts and care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what is in
+my mind or I say nothing. I did not, in so many words, say that you are
+beautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry with my poor
+eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer woman breathes the air of
+England. Nor can you chide my sinful brain that it gladly believes what mine
+eyes tell it. No, you may not be angry so long as I do not tell you all
+this.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous a sophistry; and,
+truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear from the lips of Roger de
+Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, and before
+his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way into the good graces
+of the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire life, yet it
+seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their kind as though he had
+always been among them. His starved soul, groping through the darkness of the
+empty past, yearned toward the feasting and the light of friendship, and urged
+him to turn his back upon the old life, and remain ever with these people, for
+Simon de Montfort had offered the young man a position of trust and honor in
+his retinue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why refused you the offer of my father?&rdquo; said Bertrade to him as
+he was come to bid her farewell. &ldquo;Simon de Montfort is as great a man in
+England as the King himself, and your future were assured did you attach
+yourself to his person. But what am I saying! Did Roger de Conde not wish to be
+elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it is proof positive that
+he does not wish to bide among the De Montforts.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would give my soul to the devil,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn,
+&ldquo;would it buy me the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade
+Montfort.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak, but
+something&mdash;was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her little fingers,
+a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body toward him?&mdash;caused
+him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep into the eyes
+of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh that was half gasp,
+she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the King&rsquo;s niece in
+his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a great love upon those that
+were upturned to him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;what is this thing
+that I have done! Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love
+for you plead in extenuation of my act.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong white
+hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it is
+not, Roger.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a craven
+poltroon; but, God, how I love you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;I do love&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;not yet, not yet. Do not say it till I
+come again. You know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when
+next I come, I promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, and
+then, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, &lsquo;I love you&rsquo; no
+power on earth, or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from being
+mine!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you. I do not
+understand, but I know that you must have some good reason, though it all seems
+very strange to me. If I, a De Montfort, am willing to acknowledge my love for
+any man, there can be no reason why I should not do so, unless,&rdquo; and she
+started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed and paling, &ldquo;unless there be
+another woman, a&mdash;a&mdash;wife?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is no other woman, Bertrade,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn. &ldquo;I
+have no wife; nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever before
+touched the lips of another, for I do not remember my mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is some old woman&rsquo;s bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark
+corner of your imagination to frighten yourself with. I do not fear, since I
+know that you must be all good. There be no line of vice or deception upon your
+face and you are very brave. So brave and noble a man, Roger, has a heart of
+pure gold.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he said, bitterly. &ldquo;I cannot endure it. Wait
+until I come again and then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in
+your heart to speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be at
+zenith. Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father. Farewell,
+Bertrade, in a few days I return.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent young
+puppy, you may save your breath,&rdquo; thundered an angry voice, and Simon de
+Montfort strode, scowling, into the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood of the
+De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She faced him with as brave
+and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned slowly, fixing De Montfort
+with level gaze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the
+corridor,&rdquo; continued the latter, &ldquo;to readily guess what had gone
+before. So it is for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home?
+And thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head of
+the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught we know,
+some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that I do not aid you
+with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;Stop, father, hast forgot that but
+for Roger de Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or,
+worse, herself befouled and dishonored?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not forget,&rdquo; replied the Earl, &ldquo;and it is because I
+remember that my sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply
+repaid by the friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
+clean the score. An&rsquo; you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I
+lose my temper.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord,&rdquo; spoke
+Norman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. &ldquo;Your
+daughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate asking you
+for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if she will have me,
+My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed her. Norm&mdash;Roger
+de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he would do.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to control
+himself to say,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
+negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis of
+France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the Outlaw of
+Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be known outside his
+own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor let me see your face again
+within the walls of Leicester&rsquo;s castle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be quarreling
+with words,&rdquo; said the outlaw. &ldquo;Farewell, My Lady. I shall return as
+I promised, and your word shall be law.&rdquo; And with a profound bow to De
+Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a few minutes was riding
+through the courtyard of the castle toward the main portals.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called to him from
+above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes of Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take this, Roger de Conde,&rdquo; she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel
+to him, &ldquo;and wear it ever, for my sake. We may never meet again, for the
+Earl my father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions;
+therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my saying. I love
+you, and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if you can find the means
+to take me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye be of
+the same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye. Again,
+farewell.&rdquo; And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn
+passed out of the castle yard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found that it
+contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and then slipped it
+upon the third finger of his left hand.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester &ldquo;in a few
+days,&rdquo; nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade de
+Montfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks on royalist
+barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even Berkshire and Surrey and
+Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form of
+Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard no word
+from her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he had parted
+from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had left his brain
+clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of his hopes, and he
+had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean only suffering and
+mortification for the woman he loved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from the subtle
+spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love, would doubtless be
+glad to forget the words she had spoken in the heat of a divine passion. He
+would wait, then, until fate threw them together, and should that ever chance,
+while she was still free, he would let her know that Roger de Conde and the
+Outlaw of Torn were one and the same.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No, it is impossible. It is
+better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored, the wife of a
+common highwayman; for though she might love me at first, the bitterness and
+loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father Claude, the
+priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations; the unsettled state
+of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand which Norman of Torn would take
+when open hostilities between King and baron were declared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It would seem that Henry,&rdquo; said the priest, &ldquo;by his
+continued breaches of both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but
+urging the barons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced
+Prince Edward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carry
+the ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces me that he
+be, by this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and his
+associates.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If that be the case,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn, &ldquo;we shall have
+war and fighting in real earnest ere many months.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?&rdquo;
+asked Father Claude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Under the black falcon&rsquo;s wing,&rdquo; laughed he of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son,&rdquo; said the priest,
+smiling. &ldquo;Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy
+soldierly qualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee
+in the paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on&rsquo;t. I have one more
+duty to perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thy
+suggestion, but only on one condition.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What be that, my son?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; in
+truth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old man of Torn,
+even though I be the product of his loins, which I much mistrust, be no father
+to me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes before he
+spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the windows,
+listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came to his attentive
+ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirely concealed by a great
+lilac bush, which many times before had hid his traitorous form.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At length the priest spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;so long as thou remain in
+England, pitting thy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and
+barons of his realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself
+hast said an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatred
+against them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselessly away to
+satisfy the choler of another.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I guess
+and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope that it be false
+or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the question to be settled.
+Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I be an old man and versed in
+reading true between the lines, and so I know that thou lovest Bertrade de
+Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And now, what I would say be this. In all
+England there lives no more honorable man than Simon de Montfort, nor none who
+could more truly decide upon thy future and thy past. Thou may not understand
+of what I hint, but thou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yea, even with my life and honor, my father,&rdquo; replied the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt come
+hither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by his decision
+should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be the best judge of any
+in England, save two who must now remain nameless.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride
+south.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It shall be by the third day, or not at all,&rdquo; replied Father
+Claude, and Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of
+the lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw chief and
+had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim, gray, old man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the priest&rsquo;s words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in
+anger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted near
+twenty years,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;if I find not the means to quiet his
+half-wit tongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now. Well
+then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now be as good a
+time as any. If we come near enough to the King&rsquo;s men on this trip south,
+the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shall taste the fruits of
+his own tyranny,&rdquo; then glancing up and realizing that Spizo, the
+Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling, cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently,&rdquo; replied the
+Spaniard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man eyed him closely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering,
+remember.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of Father
+Claude and entered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am honored,&rdquo; said the priest, rising.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Priest,&rdquo; cried the old man, coming immediately to the point,
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet
+here. I know not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy&rsquo;s sake, carry
+not out thy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best that
+this meeting take place after we return from the south.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so the
+latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until later.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the head of his
+army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward London town. One
+thousand fighting men there were, with squires and other servants, and five
+hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents and other impedimenta, and
+bring back the loot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left to guard
+the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the column&rsquo;s head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray, old
+man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the catapult
+detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, with his company,
+formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance of the column rode ten
+men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling of sword,
+and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and ear ample
+assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon no peaceful
+mission.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whom we have met,
+there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron of Cobarth of Germany,
+and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like their leader, each of these fierce
+warriors carried a great price upon his head, and the story of the life of any
+one would fill a large volume with romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery
+and death.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they came
+upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meeting was at a
+turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other before the ten
+knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair wards.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What the devil be this,&rdquo; cried one of the knights, as the main
+body of the outlaw horde came into view, &ldquo;the King&rsquo;s army or one of
+his foreign legions?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men,&rdquo; replied the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand, and
+there were two women with them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye?&rdquo; said the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am Richard de Tany of Essex,&rdquo; said the oldest knight, he who had
+first spoken, &ldquo;and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de
+Stutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would you of us?
+Name your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid; only let us go
+our way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil of Torn, for we be but ten
+lances. If ye must have blood, at least let the women go unharmed.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady Mary is an old friend,&rdquo; said the outlaw. &ldquo;I called
+at her father&rsquo;s home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors,
+and the lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of Torn
+than they might be in the King&rsquo;s palace.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Right he is,&rdquo; spoke up Lady Mary. &ldquo;Norman of Torn accorded
+my mother, my sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as
+much for his treatment of my father,&rdquo; she added, half smiling.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;Ride on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle of
+Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger de Conde,
+a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Norman of
+Torn trotted into the courtyard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tany were
+waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an old friend, and the
+daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming her friend&rsquo;s friend
+to the hospitality of her father&rsquo;s castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex,&rdquo;
+cried Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. &ldquo;Today it is Roger de
+Conde, yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from
+Roger de Conde,&rdquo; said Mary, smiling. &ldquo;For I have heard tales, and I
+see a great ring upon the gentleman&rsquo;s hand&mdash;a ring which I have seen
+before.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but asked
+bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thrice within the year have I received missives from her,&rdquo; replied
+Mary. &ldquo;In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why
+he did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not his name,
+but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly, but no
+sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I guess it be better so,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;The daughter of
+a De Montfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer,&rdquo; he
+added, a little bitterly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You wrong her, my friend,&rdquo; said Mary de Stutevill. &ldquo;She
+loved you and, unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know
+myself, she loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what
+can you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thought you that she
+would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the alliance her father
+has made for her?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do not understand,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;and I may not tell
+you; but I ask that you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of
+mind, for her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But, let us
+talk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it upon others.
+I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. It will never be
+given to me to make her or any other woman so. I would that I had never come
+into her life, but I did not know what I was doing; and the spell of her beauty
+and goodness was strong upon me, so that I was weak and could not resist what I
+had never known before in all my life&mdash;love.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You could not well be blamed,&rdquo; said Joan de Tany, generously.
+&ldquo;Bertrade de Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a
+benediction simply to have known her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first time, and
+he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she spoke, her face
+lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of intelligence and
+character that cast a spell of fascination about her. Yes, Joan de Tany was
+good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried a wounded heart in his breast
+that longed for surcease from its sufferings&mdash;for a healing balm upon its
+hurts and bruises.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a daily
+visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance between the man
+and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and with one of them, it
+threatened even more.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only friendship in
+the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard and lonely one. The
+only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had entered it had been his
+love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His every thought was loyal to the woman who he knew was not for him, but he
+longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the friendship of
+such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dream that either looked
+upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweet friendliness which was as new
+to him as love&mdash;how could he mark the line between or foresee the terrible
+price of his ignorance!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow in matters
+of the heart&mdash;many there were, she knew, who were thus. She might have
+warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let things drift except
+for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be careful of thy heart, Joan,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;lest it be
+getting away from thee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less
+quickly than he forgets.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de
+Stutevill,&rdquo; she replied warmly. &ldquo;If thou covet this man thyself,
+why, but say so. Do not think though that, because thy heart glows in his
+presence, mine is equally susceptible.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was Mary&rsquo;s turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on her
+tongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel. Instead
+she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not love him,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;and I be glad that you do
+not, for I know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore
+undying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was at this time that the King&rsquo;s soldiers were harassing the lands of
+the rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stinging defeat
+at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe for small
+parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into the hands of the
+mercenaries of Henry III.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the attacks of
+the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find them suffering
+imprisonment, and sometimes worse, at the hands of the King&rsquo;s supporters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan de Tany
+that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of the merchants.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King&rsquo;s
+party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of London
+was beset with many dangers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; cried the girl&rsquo;s mother in exasperation,
+&ldquo;between robbers and royalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be
+safe if you had an army to escort you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But then, as I have no army,&rdquo; retorted the laughing girl,
+&ldquo;if you reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him with being
+afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he might remain at
+home and lock himself safely in her mother&rsquo;s pantry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road to
+London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger de Conde was
+of the party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from the
+outlaw&rsquo;s camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders were
+to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany, with Roger de
+Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he bore to the captain of
+the gate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The letter contained this brief message:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn,&rdquo; and
+was unsigned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who had
+attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered two parties of
+armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leader of the nearer party
+spurred forward to intercept the little band, and, reining in before them,
+cried brusquely,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London,&rdquo; replied
+Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I asked not your mission,&rdquo; cried the fellow. &ldquo;I asked, who
+be ye? Answer, and be quick about it.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters and
+servants,&rdquo; lied the outlaw, &ldquo;and were it not that the ladies be
+with me, your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorish
+insolence.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a French
+coward,&rdquo; cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Roger de
+Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw and understood
+the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as he heard the
+man&rsquo;s challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were some
+ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together the impact was
+so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two powerful war
+lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each struck the exact center
+of his opponent&rsquo;s shield. Then, wheeling their horses and throwing away
+the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde and the officer advanced with
+drawn swords.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting to ride
+him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from the tip of the
+outlaw&rsquo;s sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew the battle, they
+settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling and turning shoulder to
+shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the eyes of
+Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed every move of the
+wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim and
+haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many words the utter
+contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And as Joan de Tany
+watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hard line, and the eyes
+of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman&rsquo;s intuition read the death
+warrant of the King&rsquo;s officer ere the sword of the outlaw buried itself
+in his heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat spellbound as
+they watched the battle, but now, as their leader&rsquo;s corpse rolled from
+the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his little party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Baron&rsquo;s men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even
+with the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was apparent
+from the first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to the
+thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their saddles as
+his leaping point found their vitals.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Nearly all of the Baron&rsquo;s men were down, when one, an old servitor,
+spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, my ladies,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;quick and you may escape. They
+be so busy with the battle that they will never notice.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take the Lady Mary, John,&rdquo; cried Joan, &ldquo;I brought Roger de
+Conde to this pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the
+end.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, My Lady&mdash;&rdquo; cried John.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But nothing, sirrah!&rdquo; she interrupted sharply. &ldquo;Do as you
+are bid. Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father&rsquo;s
+castle in safety,&rdquo; and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary&rsquo;s
+palfrey across the rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he
+leaped frantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they
+had come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;After her, John,&rdquo; commanded Joan peremptorily, &ldquo;and see that
+you turn not back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring
+aid.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan from her
+earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that he wheeled his
+horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Mary de Stutevill.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fully twenty
+men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy toll of those
+before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked him from behind; and
+even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full upon his helm, and his sword
+drop from his nerveless fingers as his lifeless body rolled from the back of
+Sir Mortimer to the battle-tramped clay of the highroad.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his prostrate form,
+reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling, steel-clad horses, and
+surging fighting-men that surrounded him. And well it was for Norman of Torn
+that this brave girl was there that day, for even as she reached his side, the
+sword point of one of the soldiers was at his throat for the coup de grace.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw&rsquo;s body,
+shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her from his
+prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped up and drew rein
+beside the party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,
+black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often seen upon
+the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor to positions of
+power and affluence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for years one
+of the King&rsquo;s favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort and the
+barons.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What now?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;What goes on here?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A party of the King&rsquo;s enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we
+routed them, taking these two prisoners.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye?&rdquo; he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside
+De Conde, and as she raised her head, &ldquo;My God! The daughter of De Tany! a
+noble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look for yourself, My Lord Earl,&rdquo; replied the girl removing the
+helm, which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Edward?&rdquo; he ejaculated. &ldquo;But no, it cannot be, I did but
+yesterday leave Edward in Dover.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know not who he be,&rdquo; said Joan de Tany, &ldquo;except that he be
+the most marvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to
+see. He called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than
+that he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has no quarrel
+with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make war on women,
+you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your soldiers wantonly set
+upon us.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troublous
+times,&rdquo; replied the Earl, &ldquo;and that alone were enough to
+necessitate my keeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter
+and so I will grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King,
+but a prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need the
+cheering company of a fair and loving lady.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl&rsquo;s head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to some
+comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honored in England, even
+though it does not share the King&rsquo;s favors with his foreign favorites,
+and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;All be fair in war, my beauty,&rdquo; replied the Earl.
+&ldquo;Egad,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;methinks all would be fair in hell
+were they like unto you. It has been some years since I have seen you and I did
+not know the old fox Richard de Tany kept such a package as this hid in his
+grimy old castle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then you refuse to release us?&rdquo; said Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us not put it thus harshly,&rdquo; countered the Earl. &ldquo;Rather
+let us say that it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers
+that the Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautiful
+daughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us have an end to such foolishness,&rdquo; cried the girl. &ldquo;I
+might have expected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee,
+who once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his friends
+to curry favor with the King.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the girl, but
+thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers, saying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I would
+learn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crown
+prince.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel baron
+which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as headquarters by
+De Fulm.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a small tower room
+in a strange castle. His head ached horribly, and he felt sick and sore; but he
+managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, and by steadying his swaying
+body with hands pressed against the wall, he was able to reach the door. To his
+disappointment, he found this locked from without and, in his weakened
+condition, he made no attempt to force it.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, but his
+helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened, he
+became more and more impatient. Repeated pounding upon the door brought no
+response and finally he gave up in despair. Going to the window, he saw that
+his room was some thirty feet above the stone-flagged courtyard, and also that
+it looked at an angle upon other windows in the old castle where lights were
+beginning to show. He saw men-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he
+caught a glimpse of a woman&rsquo;s figure, but he was not sure.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. He hoped
+that they had escaped, and yet&mdash;no, Joan certainly had not, for now he
+distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instant just before the
+blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith and confidence that he had read
+in that quick glance. Such a look would nerve a jackal to attack a drove of
+lions, thought the outlaw. What a beautiful creature she was; and she had
+stayed there with him during the fight. He remembered now. Mary de Stutevill
+had not been with her as he had caught that glimpse of her, no, she had been
+all alone. Ah! That was friendship indeed!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of his bruised
+and wavering memory? Words? Words of love? And lips pressed to his? No, it must
+be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate? He felt, and found a metal
+bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of silken hair. He
+carried the little thing to the window, and in the waning light made it out to
+be a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, but he could not tell if
+the little strand of silken hair were black or brown. Carefully he detached the
+little thing, and, winding the filmy tress about it, placed it within the
+breast of his tunic. He was vaguely troubled by it, yet why he could scarcely
+have told, himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within his vision,
+and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knight coming within the
+scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently in heated
+discussion with someone whom Norman of Torn could not see. The man, a great,
+tall, black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pounding upon a table to
+emphasize his words, and presently he sprang up as though rushing toward the
+one to whom he had been speaking. He disappeared from the watcher&rsquo;s view
+for a moment and then, at the far side of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him
+again just as he roughly grasped the figure of a woman who evidently was
+attempting to escape him. As she turned to face her tormentor, all the devil in
+the Devil of Torn surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was that of
+Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself against the
+bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavy feet
+without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was fitted to the
+lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wall beside the doorway,
+where the inswinging door would conceal him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly, the
+interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, the visitor did
+not see that the cot was empty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword. That was enough for the
+Devil of Torn&mdash;it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellow could
+assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed upon his
+throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, and the
+clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger at his side,
+the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tugging with ever
+diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath. Slowly and feebly
+he raised it high above the back of the man on top of him; with a last supreme
+effort he drove the point downward, but ere it reached its goal, there was a
+sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone, the dagger fell harmlessly from his
+dead hand, and his head rolled backward upon his broken neck.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of Torn rushed
+from the tower room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joan de Tany,
+she turned upon him like a tigress. Blow after blow she rained upon his head
+and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her full upon the mouth
+with his clenched fist; but even this did not subdue her and, with ever
+weakening strength, she continued to strike him. And then the great royalist
+Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took the fair white throat between his
+great fingers, and the lust of blood supplanted the lust of love, for he would
+have killed her in his rage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword. They
+were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at the sight caused
+the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to meet him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There were no words, for there was no need of words here. The two men were upon
+each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl had regained her feet.
+It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had not some of his men heard
+the fracas, and rushed to his aid.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room, fairly
+falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swords into him; but
+once they met that master hand, they went more slowly, and in a moment, two of
+them went no more at all, and the others, with the Earl, were but circling
+warily in search of a chance opening&mdash;an opening which never came.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the room, and
+behind him stood Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Move toward the left,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;I know this old pile.
+When you reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway
+directly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my hand
+in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, which you must
+turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He nodded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the meantime
+keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl was careful to keep out of
+reach of the point of De Conde&rsquo;s sword, and the men-at-arms were nothing
+loath to emulate their master&rsquo;s example.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
+emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came too
+close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow&rsquo;s throat, Norman of Torn
+felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword swung with a
+resounding blow against the lamp.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through the little
+door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had instructed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This way,&rdquo; she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
+silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped before a
+blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. More and more
+rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded through the
+castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What is wrong?&rdquo; asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
+perturbation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mon Dieu!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Can I be wrong! Surely this is the
+room. Oh, my friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my
+willfulness and vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I
+forget the way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not worry about me,&rdquo; laughed the Devil of Torn.
+&ldquo;Methought that it was I who was trying to save you, and may heaven
+forgive me else, for surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a
+handful of swords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake,
+Joan,&rdquo; he added more gravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
+flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last the girl, with a little cry of &ldquo;stupid,&rdquo; seized De Conde
+and rushed him to the far side of the room.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here it is,&rdquo; she whispered joyously, &ldquo;here it has been all
+the time.&rdquo; Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little
+hidden spring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in,
+revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panel swung
+quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen men entered the
+apartment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The devil take them,&rdquo; cried De Fulm. &ldquo;Where can they have
+gone? Surely we were right behind them.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is passing strange, My Lord,&rdquo; replied one of the men.
+&ldquo;Let us try the floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have
+not come this way.&rdquo; And the party retraced its steps, leaving the
+apartment empty.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand still in
+his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where now?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Or do we stay hidden here like
+frightened chicks until the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of
+this musty hole?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wait,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;until I quiet my nerves a little. I am
+all unstrung.&rdquo; He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his arm fell
+about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be brave and powerful;
+naught can harm you while I am here.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it by the
+sheltering darkness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Roger,&rdquo; she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name.
+&ldquo;I thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolish
+stubbornness. Canst forgive me?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forgive?&rdquo; he asked, smiling to himself. &ldquo;Forgive being given
+an opportunity to fight? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it be that I
+should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not say that,&rdquo; she commanded. &ldquo;Never was such bravery or
+such swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts. The feel of
+her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vague caress upon his
+cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned against him sent the hot
+blood coursing through his veins. He was puzzled, for he had not dreamed that
+friendship was so sweet. That she did not shrink from his encircling arms
+should have told him much, but Norman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman
+might look upon him with love. Nor had he a thought of any other sentiment
+toward her than that of friend and protector.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautiful
+face&mdash;Bertrade de Montfort&rsquo;s&mdash;and Norman of Torn was still more
+puzzled; for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within him.
+Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all his
+starved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men or women, it
+is little to be wondered at that he was easily impressionable and responsive to
+the feeling his strong personality had awakened in two of England&rsquo;s
+fairest daughters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faint realization
+that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendship or fear which caused
+that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him. That the responsibility for
+the critical stage their young acquaintance had so quickly reached was not his
+had never for a moment entered his head. To him, the fault was all his; and
+perhaps it was this quality of chivalry that was the finest of the many noble
+characteristics of his sterling character. So his next words were typical of
+the man; and did Joan de Tany love him, or did she not, she learned that night
+to respect and trust him as she respected and trusted few men of her
+acquaintance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn, &ldquo;we have been through much,
+and we are as little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon
+our acquaintance,&rdquo; and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder,
+&ldquo;I ask you to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and
+from the pain of the blow upon my head.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his hand and
+led him forward through a dark, cold corridor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We must go carefully now,&rdquo; she said at last, &ldquo;for there be
+stairs near.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps than conditions
+required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward, very slowly down a
+flight of rough stone steps.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being new at love,
+he blundered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Joan de Tany,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me. Tell me that you
+forgive what I have done, an it offended you. I have so few friends,&rdquo; he
+added sadly, &ldquo;that I cannot afford to lose such as you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany,&rdquo; she answered.
+&ldquo;You have won her respect and&mdash;and&mdash;&rdquo; But she could not
+say it and so she trailed off lamely&mdash;&ldquo;and undying gratitude.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he dared to let
+her. He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade de Montfort before
+him; and now another vision arose that would effectually have sealed his lips
+had not the other&mdash;he saw the Outlaw of Torn dangling by his neck from a
+wooden gibbet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it, and
+while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for him, again
+he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did not return her
+love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survive the knowledge that it
+was possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany led him,
+gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a large chamber.
+The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no ray of light penetrated
+this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the stillness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This be the castle&rsquo;s crypt,&rdquo; whispered Joan; &ldquo;and they
+do say that strange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night,
+and that when the castle sleeps, the castle&rsquo;s dead rise from their
+coffins and shake their dry bones.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sh! What was that?&rdquo; as a rustling noise broke upon their ears
+close upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
+fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn&rsquo;s arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There is nothing to fear, Joan,&rdquo; reassured Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;Dead men wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think,
+and rats are our only companions here.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;If you can make a light, I am
+sure you will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less
+fearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search of adventure,
+we passed through these corridors an hundred times, but always by day and with
+lights.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. The chamber
+was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some effigies in
+marble set at intervals about the walls.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not such a fearsome place after all,&rdquo; he said, laughing lightly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No place would seem fearsome now,&rdquo; she answered simply,
+&ldquo;were there a light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were
+by my side.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hush, child,&rdquo; replied the outlaw. &ldquo;You know not what you
+say. When you know me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de
+Conde is not what you think him. So say no more of praise until we be out of
+this hole, and you safe in your father&rsquo;s halls.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to again bring the
+girl&rsquo;s face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet breath upon his
+cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a few moments,
+reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle. We
+have passed beneath the walls and the moat. What may we do now, Roger, without
+horses?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the
+cover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to your
+father&rsquo;s castle,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch upon the
+castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and stepped forth into
+the fresh night air.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had there
+ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it was with
+difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling creepers and
+tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell before they had taken a
+score of steps.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fear I am not strong enough,&rdquo; she said finally. &ldquo;The way
+is much more difficult than I had thought.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on through the
+darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine. It required the
+better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to the roadway; and all
+the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and her hair brushed his cheek.
+Once when she lifted her head to speak to him, he bent toward her, and in the
+darkness, by chance, his lips brushed hers. He felt her little form tremble in
+his arms, and a faint sigh breathed from her lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mist was before
+his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered those warm lips
+with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers, closer and closer his iron
+muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear cut and distinct before his eyes,
+he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of Torn swinging by the neck from the arm of a
+wooden gibbet, and beside it knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and
+many jewels. Her face was averted and her arms were outstretched toward the
+dangling form that swung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was
+racked with choking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to
+her feet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her
+features for an instant then&mdash;the woman who openly and alone mourned the
+dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan de Tany to
+the ground. In that instant Norman of Torn had learned the difference between
+friendship and love, and love and passion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyed and
+wondering, toward him. She had felt the wild call of love and she could not
+understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no vision beyond a life
+of happiness within those strong arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Joan,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I would but now have wronged thee. Forgive
+me. Forget what has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightful
+colors, when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer upon us, and
+then,&rdquo;&mdash;he paused&mdash;&ldquo;and then I shall tell you who I be
+and you shall say if you still care to call me friend&mdash;no more than that
+shall I ask.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de Montfort, but
+it had been a thousand times better had he done so.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from the surrounding
+shadows, calling upon them to surrender. The moonlight falling upon the leader
+revealed a great giant of a fellow with an enormous, bristling
+mustache&mdash;it was Shandy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is I, Shandy,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Keep a still tongue in thy head
+until I speak with thee apart. Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be
+friends.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow had become
+alarmed at his chief&rsquo;s continued absence, and had set out with a small
+party to search for him. They had come upon the riderless Sir Mortimer grazing
+by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, had discovered evidences of the
+conflict at the cross-roads. There they had found Norman of Torn&rsquo;s
+helmet, confirming their worst fears. A peasant in a nearby hut had told them
+of the encounter, and had set them upon the road taken by the Earl and his
+prisoners.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And here we be, My Lord,&rdquo; concluded the great fellow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many are you?&rdquo; asked the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us,&rdquo; said the
+chief. &ldquo;And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night with
+the Outlaw of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, My Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward the castle of
+Richard de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprang out of
+the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, a gentleman of
+France.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where had she
+seen that mighty frame before? And now she looked closely at the figure of
+Roger de Conde. Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two men together; but
+where and when?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind. Roger de Conde
+spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words upon this
+man&rsquo;s lips as he addressed the red giant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who had picked it
+up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with lowered visor, as was his
+custom.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the moonlight
+touched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who rode behind him, a
+little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, and a great
+shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Open! Open for My Lady Joan.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle and excitement. A
+dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out still others without
+waiting for replies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fully clothed,
+having not lain down during the whole night. They fairly fell upon Joan and
+Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come,&rdquo; said the Baron, &ldquo;let us go within. You must be
+fair famished for good food and drink.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I will ride, My Lord,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn. &ldquo;I have a
+little matter of business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham. Business
+which I fear will not wait.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence. Nor did she urge him to remain, as he raised
+her hand to his lips in farewell. So Norman of Torn rode out of the courtyard;
+and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays of the drawing day, the
+daughter of De Tany watched them through the gate, and a great light broke upon
+her, for what she saw was the same as she had seen a few days since when she
+had turned in her saddle to watch the retreating forms of the cut-throats of
+Torn as they rode on after halting her father&rsquo;s party.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<p>
+Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through the ravine
+below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his headquarters;
+while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods before the grim pile.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the little door
+through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before. Following the
+corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stone stairway, and
+mounted to the passage which led to the false panel that had given the two
+fugitives egress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartment followed closely
+by his henchmen. On they went, through apartment after apartment, but no sign
+of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their search, and it was soon apparent
+that the castle was deserted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man basking in the
+sun, upon a bench. The sight of them nearly caused the old fellow to die of
+fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the untenanted halls was well
+reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had ridden out
+early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was. The outlaw knew
+it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was his anger against this
+man, that he ordered his band to mount, and spurring to their head, he marched
+through Middlesex, and crossing the Thames above London, entered Surrey late
+the same afternoon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between London and
+Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham, having sent
+his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of a royalist baron,
+whose husband was with Prince Edward&rsquo;s forces.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady&rsquo;s household
+who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she had done him. When,
+therefore, he found that these grim men were searching for De Fulm, he saw a
+way to be revenged upon his mistress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many swords be there at the castle?&rdquo; asked Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham,&rdquo; replied the
+knave; &ldquo;and, furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you,
+My Lord, so that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and the
+Earl be supping.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy,&rdquo; commanded Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;We shall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl
+of Buckingham.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Half an hour&rsquo;s ride brought them within sight of the castle. Dismounting,
+and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman of Torn advanced on foot
+with Shandy and the eight others, close in the wake of the traitorous servant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush, he had
+hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat and rested its
+farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the ground.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy,&rdquo; said the outlaw,
+&ldquo;till all be in, an&rsquo; if there be any signs of treachery, stick him
+through the gizzard&mdash;death thus be slower and more painful.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge, and
+disappeared within the window beyond. One by one the band of cut-throats passed
+through the little window, until all stood within the castle beside their
+chief; Shandy coming last with the servant.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups,&rdquo; said
+Norman of Torn. &ldquo;You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my
+being interrupted.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthily across
+the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left the little room, this
+figure pushed quietly through the window and followed the great outlaw down the
+unlighted corridor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon the grim
+figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the great dining hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord Earl!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Look! Behind you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him, he overturned the bench upon
+which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earl of Buckingham had
+a guilty conscience.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A moment, My Lord,&rdquo; said a low voice in perfect French.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; cried the lady.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little story.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of England
+held by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when she spurned his
+advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her fair face, and with his
+brute hands choked her. And in that castle also was a despised and hunted
+outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neck the hempen noose has been
+yawning these many years. And it was this vile person who came in time to save
+the young woman from the noble flower of knighthood that would have ruined her
+young life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to the
+noble&rsquo;s rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest he
+be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the hands of her
+tormentor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl,
+he must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in full the
+toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and violence done her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord the Earl
+of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the duty he has
+sworn to do. En garde, My Lord!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he had been
+looking through a haze of blood for hours&mdash;in fact every time he had
+thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de Tany and of the
+cruel blow that had fallen upon her face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a corner of the room,
+and when he had him there where he could escape in no direction, he drove his
+blade so deep through his putrid heart that the point buried itself an inch in
+the oak panel beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was witnessing, and,
+as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead body before him and wiped it
+on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascination while he drew his
+dagger and made a mark upon the forehead of the dead nobleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Outlaw or Devil,&rdquo; said a stern voice behind them, &ldquo;Roger
+Leybourn owes you his friendship for saving the honor of his home.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway where Norman
+of Torn had first appeared.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Roger!&rdquo; shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be you?&rdquo; continued the master of Leybourn addressing the
+outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl of
+Buckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I owe you much. You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast, and
+Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman of
+Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper. I
+have eaten but once in forty-eight hours.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain on watch,
+but to interfere with no one within the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who had recovered
+from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor lay the body of De
+Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, and had
+hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half an hour before
+the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity to enter unobserved by
+the servants. It was he who had followed across the ladder after Shandy.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for the first time
+within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at the house of a
+gentleman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to his camp
+started on his homeward march toward Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs of London,
+they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at a small party of
+gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were waxing brave
+to lay violent hands upon the party. Mud and rocks and rotten vegetables were
+being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of them barely missing the women of
+the party.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thick of it
+laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and his men, catching
+the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole pack of attacking
+ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, he continued
+on his march toward the north.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after the retreating
+figures of their deliverers. Then one of the ladies turned to a knight at her
+side with a word of command and an imperious gesture toward the fast
+disappearing company. He, thus addressed, put spurs to his horse, and rode at a
+rapid gallop after the outlaw&rsquo;s troop. In a few moments he had overtaken
+them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold, Sir Knight,&rdquo; cried the gentleman, &ldquo;the Queen would
+thank you in person for your brave defence of her.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his horse and
+rode back with the Queen&rsquo;s messenger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen&rsquo;s
+life that you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but driven a
+pack of curs from annoying a stray cat,&rdquo; said the Queen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of a
+queen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed? The
+King, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me your
+name.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang
+me,&rdquo; laughed the outlaw. &ldquo;I be Norman of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none of them
+had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry of England
+feared and hated.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the King has
+pardoned men before,&rdquo; replied Her Majesty. &ldquo;But raise your visor, I
+would look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a gentleman
+and a loyal protector of his queen.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends,&rdquo; replied
+Norman of Torn quietly, &ldquo;have never lived to tell what they saw beneath
+this visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year to fear it
+might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil of Torn lifted from
+his face.&rdquo; Without another word he wheeled and galloped back to his
+little army.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The puppy, the insolent puppy,&rdquo; cried Eleanor of England, in a
+rage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a period of
+twenty years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces of Torn
+from their Essex camp back to Derby. The numerous raiding parties which had
+been constantly upon the road during the days they had spent in this rich
+district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts with rich and valuable booty and
+the men, for the time satiated with fighting and loot, turned their faces
+toward Torn with evident satisfaction.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the old man of
+Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrow
+morning. I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand, and, as
+I shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join you tomorrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do not forget, My Lord,&rdquo; said Edwild the Serf, a great
+yellow-haired Saxon giant, &ldquo;that there be a party of the King&rsquo;s
+troops camped close by the road which branches to Tany.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shall give them plenty of room,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;My neck itcheth not to be stretched,&rdquo; and he laughed and mounted.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo the Spaniard,
+sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest, mounted and spurred
+rapidly after him. The camp, in the throes of packing refractory, half broken
+sumpter animals, and saddling their own wild mounts, did not notice his
+departure. Only the little grim, gray, old man knew that he had gone, or why,
+or whither.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richard de Tany
+and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming of the Lady Joan, a
+swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of the King&rsquo;s soldiers
+camped a few miles south of Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred back in the
+direction from which he had come.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And this was what he read:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly the call &ldquo;to arms&rdquo; and &ldquo;mount&rdquo; sounded
+through the camp and, in five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly
+toward the castle of Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great
+reward and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw who was
+now almost within his clutches.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King&rsquo;s
+soldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Norman of Torn
+from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest through Cambridge
+and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited
+composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of the period; a
+beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressed excitement which caused
+the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her cheek, and her breasts to rise and
+fall above her fast beating heart.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and then they
+stood looking into each other&rsquo;s eyes in silence for a long moment.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell,&rdquo; he said
+sadly. &ldquo;I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the temptation
+to be with you and those whom you typify must be my excuse. I&mdash;&rdquo; He
+paused. It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn, but if she
+loved him, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You need tell me nothing,&rdquo; interrupted Joan de Tany. &ldquo;I have
+guessed what you would tell me, Norman of Torn. &lsquo;The spell of moonlight
+and adventure is no longer upon us&rsquo;&mdash;those are your own words, and
+still I am glad to call you friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality of her
+decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend to her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is best,&rdquo; he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt no
+love for him now that she knew him for what he really was. &ldquo;Nothing good
+could come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim more of you
+than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind and for my own, we
+will let it be as though you had never known me. I thank you that you have not
+been angry with me. Remember me only to think that in the hills of Derby, a
+sword is at your service, without reward and without price. Should you ever
+need it, Joan, tell me that you will send for me&mdash;wilt promise me that,
+Joan?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I promise, Norman of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Farewell,&rdquo; he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his
+knee to the ground in reverence. Then he rose to go, pressing a little packet
+into her palm. Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief instant, deep in
+the azure depths of the girl&rsquo;s that which tumbled the structure of his
+new-found complacency about his ears.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which led northwest
+toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for he realized two
+things. One was that the girl he had left still loved him, and that some day,
+mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she had sent him away; and the other
+was that he did not love her, that his heart was locked in the fair breast of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and the aching
+sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl&rsquo;s life.
+That he had been new to women and newer still to love did not permit him to
+excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly and stupidity, and what
+he thought was fickleness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to know without
+question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade de Montfort&rsquo;s
+lips would always be more to him than all the allurements possessed by the
+balance of the women of the world, no matter how charming, or how beautiful.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that the attitude
+of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was but the attitude which
+the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good woman of her class; what he must
+expect from Bertrade de Montfort when she learned that Roger de Conde was
+Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere the girl,
+who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing with strangely
+drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw a body of soldiers
+galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King&rsquo;s banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de Tany
+knew for whom they sought at her father&rsquo;s castle. Quickly she hastened to
+the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their hail rather than one
+of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King&rsquo;s
+men drew rein before the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this
+castle,&rdquo; replied the officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be no outlaw here,&rdquo; replied the girl, &ldquo;but, if you
+wish, you may enter with half a dozen men and search the castle.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman of Torn was
+not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain that the Outlaw
+of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King&rsquo;s men; so she said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There was one here just before you came who called himself though by
+another name than Norman of Torn. Possibly it is he ye seek.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which way rode he?&rdquo; cried the officer.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Straight toward the west by the middle road,&rdquo; lied Joan de Tany.
+And, as the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back,
+galloped furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon a bench,
+pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, and within
+found two others. In one of these was a beautiful jeweled locket, and on the
+outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the initials NT; in the other
+was a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, and about it was wound a
+strand of her own silken tresses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them against her
+lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her lithe young form
+racked with sobs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds of caste to a
+false ideal. Birth and station spelled honor to her, and honor, to the daughter
+of an English noble, was a mightier force even than love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that he was,
+according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassable barrier
+between them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her raged the
+mighty battle of the heart against the head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her arms about the
+girl&rsquo;s neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause of her sorrow.
+Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing heart; that wave of
+bitter misery and hopelessness which not even a mother&rsquo;s love could
+check.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Joan, my dear daughter,&rdquo; cried Lady de Tany, &ldquo;I sorrow with
+thee that thy love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore. But it
+be better that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take my
+word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance must needs have
+brought upon thee and thy father&rsquo;s house would soon have cooled thy love;
+nor could his have survived the sneers and affronts even the menials would have
+put upon him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, mother, but I love him so,&rdquo; moaned the girl. &ldquo;I did not
+know how much until he had gone, and the King&rsquo;s officer had come to
+search for him, and then the thought that all the power of a great throne and
+the mightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against him
+raised the hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my love surged
+through all my being. Mother, thou canst not know the honor, and the bravery,
+and the chivalry of the man as I do. Not since Arthur of Silures kept his round
+table hath ridden forth upon English soil so true a knight as Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed the honor
+of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignified respect in
+which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too, and felt that outlaw
+though he be, he is still more a gentleman than nine-tenths the nobles of
+England.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;But his birth, my daughter!&rdquo; argued the Lady de Tany. &ldquo;Some
+even say that the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck,
+and others that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor had he
+any mother.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught could the girl say to justify so
+heinous a crime as low birth. What a man did in those rough cruel days might be
+forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother or his grandfather in not
+being of noble blood, no matter howsoever wickedly attained, he might never
+overcome or live down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her own
+apartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild, impossible
+hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long, bitter night;
+until toward morning she solved the problem of her misery in the only way that
+seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding, little heart. When the rising sun
+shone through the narrow window, it found Joan de Tany at peace with all about
+her; the carved golden hilt of the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded
+from her breast, and a thin line of crimson ran across the snowy skin to a
+little pool upon the sheet beneath her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush another
+innocent victim.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<p>
+When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could tell from
+outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad intelligence
+wrought on the master of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders were
+issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south toward Essex
+without other halt than for necessary food and water for man and beast.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father&rsquo;s castle to the
+church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final resting
+place in the castle&rsquo;s crypt, a thousand strange and silent knights, black
+draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind the bier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as silently,
+they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the following night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of
+sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn had
+come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and all but the
+grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young leader
+turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door of Father
+Claude&rsquo;s cottage.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am tired, Father,&rdquo; said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his
+accustomed bench. &ldquo;Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps. I
+and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late. Seek out a
+new and better life in another country and carve thy future into the semblance
+of glory and honor.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Would that I might, my friend,&rdquo; answered Norman of Torn.
+&ldquo;But hast thou thought on the consequences which surely would follow
+should I thus remove both heart and head from the thing that I have built?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his great
+band of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England? Hast thought on&rsquo;t, Father?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild the
+Serf were ranging unchecked through Derby? Edwild, whose father was torn limb
+from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to killing a buck in the
+new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of another man; Edwild, whose
+mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Horsan the Dane, Father. How thinkest thou the safety of the roads
+would be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon ye?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Pensilo, the Spanish Don! A great captain, but a man absolutely
+without bowels of compassion. When first he joined us and saw our mark upon the
+foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked the living which
+fell into his hands with a red hot iron, branding a great P upon each cheek and
+burning out the right eye completely. Wouldst like to feel, Father, that Don
+Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged free through forest and hill of England?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One Eye
+Kanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the thousand
+others, each with a special hatred for some particular class or individual, and
+all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and loot.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to
+hate, I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn loose upon
+her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order or decency other
+than that which I enforce.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many minutes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son,&rdquo; he said at last.
+&ldquo;Thou canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of
+England, but even that may be possible; who knows other than God?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; laughed the outlaw, &ldquo;I be willing to leave it
+in His hands; which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirk a
+responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I fear, my son,&rdquo; said the priest, &ldquo;that what seed of
+reverence I have attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor
+fruit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord into
+partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poor
+spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may be wrong, for I am
+ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of God and scapegoat be not
+that they are synonymous.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between
+friends,&rdquo; replied the priest, &ldquo;and further, there be that nearer my
+heart just now which I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not
+mean to. The question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom thou
+call father?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know of no treachery,&rdquo; replied the outlaw, &ldquo;which he hath
+ever conceived against me. Why?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meet me
+and two others here upon an important matter. I have learned that he expects to
+be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week. He is to notify me
+when he will come and I shall then send for thee and the old man of Torn; but
+it were as well, my son, that thou do not mention this matter to thy father,
+nor let him know when thou come hither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be
+present.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As you say, Father,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn. &ldquo;I do not make
+head nor tail of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so
+is sufficient. I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himself with
+occasional pillages against the royalists of the surrounding counties, and his
+patrols so covered the public highways that it became a matter of grievous
+import to the King&rsquo;s party, for no one was safe in the district who even
+so much as sympathized with the King&rsquo;s cause, and many were the dead
+foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it now seemed a
+matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grisly banner would be
+found on their side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent in rough,
+wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sit at table
+singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in through the east
+windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo, tired of the din and
+racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawn sword and laid upon the
+revellers with the flat of it to enforce the authority of his commands to
+disperse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, but when
+minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair, the Outlaw
+of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter&rsquo;s dull monotony to as
+late an hour as another; nor could any man of his great fierce horde outdrink
+their chief when he cared to indulge in the pleasures of the wine cup. The only
+effect that liquor seemed to have upon him was to increase his desire to fight,
+so that he was wont to pick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for
+the slightest, or for no provocation at all. So, for this reason, he drank but
+seldom since he always regretted the things he did under the promptings of that
+other self which only could assert its ego when reason was threatened with
+submersion.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from the wild,
+roving lives of its own members. Tales of adventure, love, war and death in
+every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told, each, his story of
+how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fighting enough by day to keep them
+good humored, the winter passed, and spring came with the ever wondrous miracle
+of awakening life, with soft zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear from Simon de
+Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message which told the good priest
+that his letter had missed the great baron and had followed him around until he
+had but just received it. The message closed with these words:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledge of
+the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give our best
+attention. Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we shall visit thee,
+good father, on the fifth day from today.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort&rsquo;s man leave the note with
+Father Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl on his
+table, so that when the good father left his cottage, it was the matter of but
+a moment&rsquo;s work for Spizo to transfer the message from its hiding place
+to the breast of his tunic. The fellow could not read, but he to whom he took
+the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin in which it was penned.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the full purport of
+this letter flashed upon him. It had been years since he had heard aught of the
+search for the little lost prince of England, and now that the period of his
+silence was drawing to a close, now that more and more often opportunities were
+opening up to him to wreak the last shred of his terrible vengeance, the very
+thought of being thwarted at the final moment staggered his comprehension.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;On the fifth day,&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;That is the day on which we
+were to ride south again. Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not
+talk with thee, thou fool priest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein before the
+walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace of
+God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of Torn.
+Open, in the name of the King!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn directed that the King&rsquo;s messenger be admitted, and the
+knight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The bearing of the King&rsquo;s officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a
+man of birth when dealing with a low born knave.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah,&rdquo; he said,
+withdrawing a parchment from his breast. &ldquo;And, as you doubtless cannot
+read, I will read the King&rsquo;s commands to you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can read,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn, &ldquo;whatever the King can
+write. Unless it be,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that the King writes no better
+than he rules.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of our
+gracious King. If he were less generous, he would have sent you a halter rather
+than this message which I bear.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A bridle for thy tongue, my friend,&rdquo; replied Norman of Torn,
+&ldquo;were in better taste than a halter for my neck. But come, let us see
+what the King writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine; to
+Norman of Torn:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing and plundering the
+persons and property of our faithful lieges!!!!!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God, do
+command that you cease these nefarious practices!!!!!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, Queen Eleanor,
+we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes!!!!!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the fighting men,
+your followers, prepared to protect the security of our person, and wage war
+upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert de Clare and their
+accomplices, who even now are collected to threaten and menace our person and
+kingdom!!!!!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your long unpunished
+crimes. Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in the forty-eighth year
+of our reign.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+HENRY, REX.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded,&rdquo; said Norman of
+Torn, &ldquo;for because of it shall the King&rsquo;s messenger eat the
+King&rsquo;s message, and thus take back in his belly the answer of Norman of
+Torn.&rdquo; And crumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the
+royal emissary.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was even quicker, so
+that it seemed that the King&rsquo;s messenger had deliberately hurled his
+weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful hand and,
+despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, bent him back upon
+the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the point of his sword,
+Norman of Torn rammed the King&rsquo;s message down the knight&rsquo;s throat;
+wax, parchment and all.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn a half
+hour later and spurred rapidly&mdash;in his head a more civil tongue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea and reported
+the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearing by all the saints
+in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for his effrontery before the
+snow flew again.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+News of the fighting between the barons and the King&rsquo;s forces at
+Rochester, Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a few days
+after the coming of the King&rsquo;s message, but at the same time came other
+news which hastened his departure toward the south. This latter word was that
+Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied by Prince Philip, had landed
+at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come Peter of Colfax back to
+England&mdash;the latter, doubtless reassured by the strong conviction, which
+held in the minds of all royalists at that time, of the certainty of victory
+for the royal arms in the impending conflict with the rebel barons.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfort once
+again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity. He knew what
+the result must be. His experience with Joan de Tany had taught him that. But
+the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated all his acts where the
+happiness or honor of women were concerned urged him to give himself over as a
+sacrifice upon the altar of a woman&rsquo;s pride, that it might be she who
+spurned and rejected; for, as it must appear now, it had been he whose love had
+grown cold. It was a bitter thing to contemplate, for not alone would the
+mighty pride of the man be lacerated, but a great love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reported to the
+old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman of Torn to come
+with his father to the priest&rsquo;s cottage the morning of the march to meet
+Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what the nature of the thing
+was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more than aught he
+had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that the priest had not as
+yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlaw of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south, a little,
+wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of Father Claude. No man knows
+what words passed between the good priest and his visitor nor the details of
+what befell within the four walls of the little cottage that night; but some
+half hour only elapsed before the little, grim, gray man emerged from the
+darkened interior and hastened upward upon the rocky trail into the hills, a
+cold smile of satisfaction on his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparation early the
+following morning, for by eight o&rsquo;clock the column was to march. The
+courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys. War horses were being
+groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed to great posts, were being
+laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings of the men; while those already
+packed were wandering loose among the other animals and men. There was
+squealing, biting, kicking, and cursing as animals fouled one another with
+their loads, or brushed against some tethered war horse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to don armor,
+lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, and rondel;
+buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg. The open forges of armorer and
+smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvil rose above the
+thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the shouting of commands, the
+rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stone flags, as these artificers
+hastened, sweating and cursing, through the eleventh hour repairs to armor,
+lance and sword, or to reset a shoe upon a refractory, plunging beast.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some semblance of
+order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam. First the sumpter beasts, all loaded
+now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs below the castle and there
+held to await the column. Then, one by one, the companies were formed and
+marched out beneath fluttering pennon and waving banner to the martial strains
+of bugle and trumpet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction which hurled
+two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls of beleaguered
+castles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and the little
+old man walked side by side from the castle building and mounted their chargers
+held by two squires in the center of the courtyard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as the two
+rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of Torn, saying,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son. Father Claude sent
+word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and that some
+appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred until later. He said
+that you would understand.&rdquo; The old man eyed his companion narrowly
+through the eye slit in his helm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Tis passing strange,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn but that was his
+only comment. And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward the
+valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of Torn saw that
+the door was closed and that there was no sign of life about the place. A wave
+of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted aspect of the little
+flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a near future without the
+beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge of the
+valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the south by another
+road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drew rein before the
+cottage of Father Claude.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter the
+building.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have a care, My Lord,&rdquo; cried his companion. &ldquo;This be
+over-close to the Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth
+in the message which called thee thither.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Fear not,&rdquo; replied Simon de Montfort, &ldquo;the Devil of Torn
+hath no quarrel with me.&rdquo; Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly
+on the door. Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim
+light of the interior. There he found his host, the good father Claude,
+stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes dark
+with dried and clotted blood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his companions.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden
+for a man to carry,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;But this convinces me more than any
+words the priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, and
+possibly Prince Richard also.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked thoroughly
+by the assassin. The contents of drawer and box littered every room, though
+that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced by many pieces of jewelry
+and money which remained untouched.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The true object lies here,&rdquo; said De Montfort, pointing to the open
+hearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents.
+&ldquo;All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here
+beneath the table?&rdquo; and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up a
+sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced. It was addressed to
+him, and he read it aloud:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our meeting,
+My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either its contents or
+the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He who beareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince Richard.
+Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as positive as I.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know the
+wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call!!!!!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the assassin.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mon Dieu! The damnable luck!&rdquo; cried De Montfort, &ldquo;but a
+second more and the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.
+Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend
+incarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of Lady
+Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames? The Devil himself must watch
+o&rsquo;er him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be naught more we can do here,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;I
+should have been on my way to Fletching hours since. Come, my gentlemen, we
+will ride south by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to the
+decent burial of this holy man.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away. Noon found them at Leicester, and
+three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed the last
+rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claude and consigned
+his clay to the churchyard.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance which had
+been born in the King&rsquo;s armory twenty years before passed from the eyes
+of men.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<p>
+While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly south on the
+road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing for its advance
+upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son Prince Edward, and his brother,
+Prince Richard, King of the Romans, together with the latter&rsquo;s son, were
+entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand strong.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons&rsquo; army set
+out from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marching through
+dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city, unobserved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valley Combe, the
+projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march from the town. The
+King&rsquo;s party, however, had no suspicion that an attack was imminent and,
+in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial troops, had spent the
+preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they were quite taken by surprise.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of the hill in
+advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army that the soldiers,
+growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward morning, and returned
+to town, leaving but a single man on watch. He, left alone, had promptly fallen
+asleep, and thus De Montfort&rsquo;s men found and captured him within sight of
+the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes, where the King and his royal allies lay
+peacefully asleep, after their night of wine and dancing and song.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial army would
+doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but it happened that,
+the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party to ride forth at
+daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were low.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into the hands
+of the baronial troops. Though some few were killed or captured, those who
+escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of the royalists to the
+close proximity and gravity of their danger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort&rsquo;s army were in full view
+of the town. On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave; in the
+center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William de Monchensy, at the head
+of a large division which occupied that branch of the hill which descended a
+gentle, unbroken slope to the town. The right wing was commanded by Henry de
+Montfort, the oldest son of Simon de Montfort, and with him was the third son,
+Guy, as well as John de Burgh and Humphrey de Bohun. The reserves were under
+Simon de Montfort himself.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and his party,
+which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort; so that brother
+faced brother, and father fought against son, on that bloody Wednesday, before
+the old town of Lewes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and, as he
+issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners and pennons streaming
+in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade scintillating in the
+morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and impressive spectacle as he hurled
+himself upon the Londoners, whom he had selected for attack because of the
+affront they had put upon his mother that day at London on the preceding July.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotected burghers,
+unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before the iron men on their
+iron shod horses. The long lances, the heavy maces, the six-bladed battle axes,
+and the well-tempered swords of the knights played havoc among them, so that
+the rout was complete; but, not content with victory, Prince Edward must glut
+his vengeance, and so he pursued the citizens for miles, butchering great
+numbers of them, while many more were drowned in attempting to escape across
+the Ouse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and his
+gallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined resistance at the
+hands of Henry de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, and thus the
+battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantage appearing to lie
+with the King&rsquo;s troops. Had Edward not gone so far afield in pursuit of
+the Londoners, the victory might easily have been on the side of the royalists
+early in the day, but by thus eliminating his division after defeating a part
+of De Montfort&rsquo;s army, it was as though neither of these two forces had
+been engaged.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centered the
+fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills. He had caused his car
+to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many of his leaders, under a
+small guard, so that the banners there displayed, together with the car, led
+the King of the Romans to believe that the Earl himself lay there, for Simon de
+Montfort had but a month or so before suffered an injury to his hip when his
+horse fell with him, and the royalists were not aware that he had recovered
+sufficiently to again mount a horse.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed back the men
+of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car came the royalists
+until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults against the old Earl
+and commanding him to come forth. And when they had killed the occupants of the
+car, they found that Simon de Montfort was not among them, but instead he had
+fastened there three important citizens of London, old men and influential, who
+had opposed him, and aided and abetted the King.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, that he fell upon
+the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly but steadily beat them back
+from the town.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy&rsquo;s left wing by Prince
+Edward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two remaining divisions
+took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that, what a moment before had
+hung in the balance, now seemed an assured victory for King Henry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the melee with all
+their reserves. No longer was there semblance of organization. Division was
+inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe formed a jumbled confusion
+of fighting, cursing chaos, over which whipped the angry pennons and banners of
+England&rsquo;s noblest houses.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that the
+King&rsquo;s arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been had
+not a new element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow of the
+hill to the north of them appeared a great horde of armored knights, and as
+they came into position where they could view the battle, the leader raised his
+sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand broke into a mad charge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon this body of
+fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements. Who might they be? To which
+side owned they allegiance? And, then, as the black falcon wing on the banners
+of the advancing horsemen became distinguishable, they saw that it was the
+Outlaw of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, the wild
+battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned the hopes of the
+royalists cold within their breasts.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For De Montfort! For De Montfort!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Down with
+Henry!&rdquo; rang loud and clear above the din of battle.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance that the King
+himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety of Lewes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it was that
+Norman of Torn found him barricaded. When the door was broken down, the outlaw
+entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own hand to the feet of De
+Montfort, and would have put him to death had not the Earl intervened.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King,&rdquo; said
+Norman of Torn, &ldquo;and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord
+Earl, his life shall be yours to do with as you see fit.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; replied De
+Montfort. &ldquo;Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not
+mar the record of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead,&rdquo;
+retorted the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple truth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How comes it, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; asked De Montfort as they rode
+together toward Lewes, &ldquo;that you threw the weight of your sword upon the
+side of the barons? Be it because you hate the King more?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl,&rdquo; replied the
+outlaw. &ldquo;I have been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should
+hate was never told me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to my
+maturer years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;As for why I fought as I did today,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;it be
+because the heart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side. Had it
+been with the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than he has
+this day. So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude. Tomorrow I may be
+pillaging your friends as of yore.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of his lowered
+visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; said the Earl
+coldly, &ldquo;and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot you.
+An English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France, does not have
+much thought to waste upon highwaymen.&rdquo; His tone, as well as his words
+were studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung the pride of this
+haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted the friendship of his
+daughter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seen his
+face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred and resentment,
+the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines of pain and sorrow; for
+he read in the attitude of the father what he might expect to receive at the
+hands of the daughter.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<p>
+When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fled
+precipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory, the city
+was turned over to looting and rapine. In this, Norman of Torn and his men did
+not participate, but camped a little apart from the town until daybreak the
+following morning, when they started east, toward Dover.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty miles out of
+their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold. The troops stationed there
+had fled, having been apprised some few hours earlier, by fugitives, of the
+defeat of Henry&rsquo;s army at Lewes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, finding it
+entirely deserted, continued his eastward march. Some few miles farther on, he
+overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and from them he easily, by
+dint of threats, elicited the information he desired: the direction taken by
+the refugees from the deserted castle, their number, and as close a description
+of the party as the soldiers could give.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, this time heading
+northward into Kent. It was dark before he reached his destination, and saw
+before him the familiar outlines of the castle of Roger de Leybourn. This time,
+the outlaw threw his fierce horde completely around the embattled pile before
+he advanced with a score of sturdy ruffians to reconnoiter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hope for
+stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the great building
+and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladder that Norman of
+Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudia unearth, that the outlaw
+might visit the Earl of Buckingham, unannounced.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raise it to the
+sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood beside their chief within
+the walls of Leybourn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castle until a
+maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a sudden corner and bumped
+full into the Outlaw of Torn. With a shriek that might have been heard at
+Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone floor and, turning, ran, still
+shrieking at the top of her lungs, straight for the great dining hall.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had the guests
+arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of the girl than
+Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty drawn swords at his
+back.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants and
+men-at-arms. Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of the party
+saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a blow could be
+struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right hand, raised his left
+aloft in a gesture for silence.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold!&rdquo; he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn,
+&ldquo;I have no quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest
+within thy halls. Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as
+didst thy fair lady.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, and
+makes bold to insult my guests?&rdquo; demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who be I! If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yon
+grinning baboon,&rdquo; replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at one who
+had been seated close to De Leybourn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlaw indicated,
+and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man. With livid face he stood,
+leaning for support against the table; his craven knees wabbling beneath his
+fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apart against his yellow teeth in a
+horrid grimace of awful fear.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you recognize me not, Sir Roger,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn, drily,
+&ldquo;it is evident that your honored guest hath a better memory.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes never left
+the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed the master of
+Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated falsetto:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him! Do you wish to live another
+moment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, and there be a
+great price upon his head.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me,&rdquo; he ended in a
+pitiful wail.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Devil of Torn! How that name froze the hearts of the assembled guests.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Devil of Torn! Slowly the men standing there at the board of Sir Roger de
+Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of a sepulchre, and
+then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table. She had seen the mark
+of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her mate.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls of
+Leybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great service for the
+house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest. But a moment
+since, you said that you had no quarrel with me. Then why be you here? Speak!
+Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the master of Leybourn greets Norman
+of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand or naked sword?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me.
+And when I go, I take part of him with me. I be in a great hurry, so I would
+prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, without interference;
+but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong within your walls, and nigh
+a thousand lie without. What say you, My Lord?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that you
+search him out thus within a day&rsquo;s ride from the army of the King who has
+placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who be equally your
+enemies.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax,&rdquo; replied the
+outlaw. &ldquo;What my grievance be matters not. Norman of Torn acts first and
+explains afterward, if he cares to explain at all. Come forth, Peter of Colfax,
+and for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may save your friends
+here from the fate that has found you at last after two years of patient
+waiting.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to the center
+of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made; the men of the
+party forming a circle, in the center of which stood Peter of Colfax and Norman
+of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Give him a great draught of brandy,&rdquo; said the outlaw, &ldquo;or he
+will sink down and choke in the froth of his own terror.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter of Colfax
+regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his sword arm and defend
+himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and the primal instinct of
+self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a more and more creditable fight,
+until those who watched thought that he might indeed have a chance to vanquish
+the Outlaw of Torn. But they did not know that Norman of Torn was but playing
+with his victim, that he might make the torture long, drawn out, and wreak as
+terrible a punishment upon Peter of Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron
+had visited upon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield to his base
+desires.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of the fascinating
+drama that was being enacted before them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;God, what a swordsman!&rdquo; muttered one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword was drawn
+from the first scabbard!&rdquo; replied Roger de Leybourn. &ldquo;Is it not
+marvellous!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces; little
+by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for loss of blood, the man
+was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch his victim&rsquo;s face with
+his gleaming sword. That he was saving for the fulfillment of his design.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was no marrowless
+antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn. Furiously he fought; in the
+extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with frenzied agony. Great
+beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like, in his
+victim&rsquo;s face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a thin
+vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to ooze ere another
+swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow to parallel the first.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax, until the
+watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the seal of death, in
+letters of blood&mdash;NT.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was the end. Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like the maniac he
+had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw of Torn was upon
+his brow. Now, shrieking and gibbering through his frothy lips, his yellow
+fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed full upon Norman of Torn. There
+was a flash of the great sword as the outlaw swung it to the full of his mighty
+strength through an arc that passed above the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and
+the grinning head rolled upon the floor, while the loathsome carcass, that had
+been a baron of England, sunk in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the
+great hall of the castle of Leybourn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests. Some one broke into
+hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn, wiping his blade
+upon the rushes of the floor as he had done upon another occasion in that same
+hall, spoke quietly to the master of Leybourn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or a
+mightier one in its stead.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few words of
+instructions, to one of his men.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it upon the
+golden platter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality,&rdquo; said Norman of
+Torn, with a low bow which included the spellbound guests. &ldquo;Adieu.&rdquo;
+Thus followed by his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the
+platter of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and from the
+castle.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<p>
+Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain of many
+days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into camp that night; nor
+did he again take up his march until the second morning, three days after the
+battle of Lewes.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester&rsquo;s castle, where he
+had reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though it galled
+his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting his coming, he
+could not do less than that which he felt his honor demanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the wiry, gray
+little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, had the old
+fellow changed in all these years. Without bodily vices, and clinging ever to
+the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was still young in muscle and
+endurance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but he constantly
+practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so that it had become a
+subject often discussed among the men as to which of the two, father or son,
+was the greater swordsman.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence. Long since had
+Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character and masterful ways,
+the position of authority in the castle of Torn. The old man simply rode and
+fought with the others when it pleased him; and he had come on this trip
+because he felt that there was that impending for which he had waited over
+twenty years.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called &ldquo;my
+son.&rdquo; If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one of pride
+which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil&rsquo;s mighty
+sword arm.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guard halted
+a party bound south upon a crossroad. There were some twenty or thirty men,
+mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of the party
+was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently a person of
+distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are you,&rdquo; said the gentleman, in French, &ldquo;that stops a
+prince of France upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal? Are
+you of the King&rsquo;s forces, or De Montfort&rsquo;s?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Be this Prince Philip of France?&rdquo; asked Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but who be you?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?&rdquo; continued
+the outlaw, ignoring the Prince&rsquo;s question.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, an it be any of your affair,&rdquo; replied Philip curtly.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It be,&rdquo; said the Devil of Torn, &ldquo;for I be a friend of My
+Lady Bertrade, and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands of
+roving soldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with so
+small an escort. Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de Montfort ride
+with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur may arrive there
+safely.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget. But,
+again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Norman of Torn, they call me,&rdquo; replied the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; cried Philip. &ldquo;The great and bloody outlaw?&rdquo;
+Upon his handsome face there was no look of fear or repugnance.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for
+himself,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if he rides in such company?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than
+saint,&rdquo; said the Prince. &ldquo;They have told me of how you saved the
+daughter of De Montfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet
+you, and to thank you. It had been my intention to ride to Torn for that
+purpose so soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all our plans by
+his victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the Princess Eleanor, his wife,
+with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simon de Montfort and the King
+are to be today. The Queen also is there with her retinue, so it be expected
+that, to show the good feeling and renewed friendship existing between De
+Montfort and his King, there will be gay scenes in the old fortress.
+But,&rdquo; he added, after a pause, &ldquo;dare the Outlaw of Torn ride within
+reach of the King who has placed a price upon his head?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The price has been there since I was eighteen,&rdquo; answered Norman of
+Torn, &ldquo;and yet my head be where it has always been. Can you blame me if I
+look with levity upon the King&rsquo;s price? It be not heavy enough to weigh
+me down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in all England. I
+am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisoner today.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torn grew to
+like this brave and handsome gentleman. In his heart was no rancor because of
+the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Norman of Torn
+was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy. It not only held
+her happiness above his own, but the happiness and welfare of the man she
+loved, as well.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid the prince
+adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, he said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade? It is in
+reference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, for the
+first time, be able to fulfill.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Certainly, my friend,&rdquo; replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting,
+called upon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch,
+wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missive to the
+daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment. Opening it, she read:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in
+friendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battel this
+night.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I know that
+you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendship which he
+bears you.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+My camp lies without the city&rsquo;s gates, and your messenger will have safe
+conduct whatever reply he bears to,
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she thought of that moment of
+terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle of Peter of
+Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devil of Torn. And
+then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful chivalry, nay, almost
+tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What a strange contradiction of a man! She wondered if he would come with
+lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that lay behind the
+cold, steel mask. She would ask him this night to let her see his face, or
+would that be cruel? For, did they not say that it was from the very ugliness
+of it that he kept his helm closed to hide the repulsive sight from the eyes of
+men!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two years before,
+she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In the great hall that night as the King&rsquo;s party sat at supper, Philip of
+France, addressing Henry, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today,
+that I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some of our good friends from Kent?&rdquo; asked the King.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price,
+Norman of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteous and
+pleasant gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmed through your
+realm that I may add to my list of pleasant acquaintances.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Devil of Torn?&rdquo; asked Henry, incredulously. &ldquo;Some one be
+hoaxing you.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nay, Your Majesty, I think not,&rdquo; replied Philip, &ldquo;for he was
+indeed a grim and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and
+awe-inspiring a pack as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong
+they rode. They be camped not far without the city now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, &ldquo;be it
+not time that England were rid of this devil&rsquo;s spawn and his hellish
+brood? Though I presume,&rdquo; he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip,
+&ldquo;that it may prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn
+upon his companion in arms.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I owe him nothing,&rdquo; returned the Earl haughtily, &ldquo;by his own
+word.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You owe him victory at Lewes,&rdquo; snapped the King. &ldquo;It were
+indeed a sad commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing lieges who
+turned their arms against our royal person, &lsquo;to save him from the
+treachery of his false advisers,&rsquo; that they called upon a cutthroat
+outlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in their &lsquo;righteous
+cause&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord King,&rdquo; cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, &ldquo;I
+called not upon this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles of
+Lewes until I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day. Neither did
+I know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fall upon baron or
+royalist.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If that be the truth, Leicester,&rdquo; said the King, with a note of
+skepticism which he made studiously apparent, &ldquo;hang the dog. He be just
+without the city even now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be
+hanged, hanged he shall be,&rdquo; replied De Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains to
+catch him, Leicester,&rdquo; said the King.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,&rdquo; replied De
+Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And not,&rdquo; thought Philip of France, &ldquo;if I know it, shall the
+brave Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and forth
+waiting an answer to his message.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the outlaw knew
+full well that he had put his head within the lion&rsquo;s jaw when he had
+ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had no faith in the
+gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the King would urge when
+he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers naked back to London, who had
+forced his messenger to eat the King&rsquo;s message, and who had turned his
+victory to defeat at Lewes, was within reach of the army of De Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not relish
+pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand within a walled
+fortress.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his rough band
+would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great to enter the castle,
+filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if he died there, it would be in
+a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had set himself to do this duty which
+he dreaded so, and do it he would were all the armies of the world camped
+within Battel.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who presently
+appeared escorting a lackey.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort,&rdquo; said the soldier.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bring him hither,&rdquo; commanded the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment sealed with
+scented wax wafers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?&rdquo; asked the outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am to wait, My Lord,&rdquo; replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the
+service had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to bear a
+message to the Devil.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals, read the
+message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where I be.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the ground
+beside an object covered with a cloth.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, Flory,&rdquo; he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles,
+&ldquo;lead on.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Torn and last
+the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the object covered with a
+cloth. But it was not Flory who brought up the rear. Flory lay dead in the
+shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thin wound below his left shoulder
+blade marked the spot where a keen dagger had found its way to his heart, and
+in his place walked the little grim, gray, old man, bearing the object covered
+with a cloth. But none might know the difference, for the little man wore the
+armor of Flory, and his visor was drawn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall where the
+shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doubly black.
+Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up winding stairways until
+presently he stopped before a low door.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;My Lord,&rdquo; and turning left them.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his right hand,
+and a low voice from within whispered, &ldquo;Enter.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off a large hall.
+At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burning brightly, while a
+single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the austere chamber. In the
+center of the room was a table, and at the sides several benches.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Place your burden upon this table, Flory,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn.
+And when it had been done: &ldquo;You may go. Return to camp.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed behind the
+little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory and then Norman of
+Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left hand ungauntleted, resting
+upon the table&rsquo;s edge.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lady Bertrade,&rdquo; he said at last, &ldquo;I have come to fulfill
+a promise.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice. Before, Norman of
+Torn had always spoken in English. Where had she heard that voice! There were
+tones in it that haunted her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What promise did Norman of Torn e&rsquo;er make to Bertrade de
+Montfort?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I do not understand you, my friend.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look,&rdquo; he said. And as she approached the table he withdrew the
+cloth which covered the object that the man had placed there.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon a golden
+platter was a man&rsquo;s head; horrid with the grin of death baring yellow
+fangs.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dost recognize the thing?&rdquo; asked the outlaw. And then she did; but
+still she could not comprehend. At last, slowly, there came back to her the
+idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her enemy to the
+feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that! It was all a sore puzzle to
+her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim, visored figure of the
+Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside the grisly head of Peter
+of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the great ring she had tossed to Roger
+de Conde on that day, two years before.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it was
+impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there upon the
+platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters of dried
+blood, that awful symbol of sudden death&mdash;NT!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw&rsquo;s hand, and then up
+to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon her breast, the
+other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed slightly as might one
+who has just arisen from a great illness.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Your visor,&rdquo; she whispered, &ldquo;raise your visor.&rdquo; And
+then, as though to herself: &ldquo;It cannot be; it cannot be.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and there
+before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mon Dieu!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Tell me it is but a cruel
+joke.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade,&rdquo; said Norman of Torn
+sadly. And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised
+arms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said sadly:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heart
+went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation could
+come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was returned; and so I
+waited until you might forget the words you had spoken to Roger de Conde before
+I came to fulfill the promise that you should know him in his true colors.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. God
+knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very attitude,
+and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your heart, or to guess
+the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against me because I allowed you
+to speak the words you once spoke, and to the Devil of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I know
+you never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always be with
+loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, and
+with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. The hand
+that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it as guide.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came from a
+heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continue to beat
+for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in a wasted and
+useless life.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Farewell, Bertrade.&rdquo; Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to
+his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this proud daughter
+of the new conqueror of England. The anger of an outraged confidence, gratitude
+for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor, hatred for the murderer of a
+hundred friends and kinsmen, respect and honor for the marvellous courage of
+the man, loathing and contempt for the base born, the memory of that exalted
+moment when those handsome lips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of
+a champion who dared come alone among twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a
+promise made her; but stronger than all the rest, two stood out before her
+mind&rsquo;s eye like living things&mdash;the degradation of his low birth, and
+the memory of the great love she had cherished all these long and dreary
+months.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl&rsquo;s breast. In those few
+brief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade de Montfort
+that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached her final resolution
+she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman who, with the weight of a
+mature deliberation, had chosen the path which she would travel to the
+end&mdash;to the final goal, however sweet or however bitter.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet, and, taking
+the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised him to his feet. In
+silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger, and then she lifted her
+eyes to his.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Keep the ring, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The friendship of
+Bertrade de Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away,&rdquo; she
+hesitated, &ldquo;nor is her love.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he whispered. For in her eyes was that wondrous
+light he had seen there on that other day in the far castle of Leicester.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;that, Roger de Conde or Norman of
+Torn, gentleman or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de
+Montfort&mdash;it be thee I love; thee!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised, for he
+had expected the worst; but that she should love him! Oh God, had his
+overwrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dreaming this thing, only to
+awaken to the cold and awful truth?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath that fanned
+his cheek; these were no dream!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Dost
+forget that I be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning
+even the identity of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world with such a
+man for husband?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know what I say, perfectly,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;Were thou born
+out of wedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I love
+thee, and honor thee, and cleave to thee. Where thou be, Norman of Torn, there
+shall be happiness for me. Thy friends shall be my friends; thy joys shall be
+my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies, even mine own father, shall
+be my enemies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why it is, my Norman, I know not. Only do I know that I did often
+question my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
+thee&mdash;oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that this
+heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of Torn?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not know,&rdquo; he said simply and gravely. &ldquo;So wonderful a
+thing be beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it
+is sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I were like
+to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sh!&rdquo; she whispered, suddenly, &ldquo;methinks I hear footsteps.
+They must not find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night
+wrung a promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee. What
+shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee to
+gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest north tonight
+with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall make us
+one.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I am glad thee wish it,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;I feared that, for
+some reason, thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait
+here, I will be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this
+door,&rdquo; and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little
+room, &ldquo;thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoining
+apartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself away
+from danger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;For my sake,&rdquo; she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and
+she ran swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<p>
+When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth upon
+the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did not return
+to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a trifle
+ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between Bertrade de
+Montfort and Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love for the
+Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It will be better than I had hoped,&rdquo; he muttered, &ldquo;and
+easier. &rsquo;S blood! How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his
+whole proud heart in the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime revenge!
+I have waited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow thou struck that
+day, but the return shall be an hundred-fold increased by long accumulated
+interest.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and corridors, until
+he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and the King, with Philip of
+France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the room and,
+addressing the King, cried:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where a
+few men may seize him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What now! What now!&rdquo; ejaculated Henry. &ldquo;What madman be
+this?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or to
+more certain ends,&rdquo; replied the man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself,&rdquo; cried De
+Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where be the knave?&rdquo; asked Henry.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughter
+of My Lord Earl of Leicester. Even now she did but tell him that she loved
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold,&rdquo; cried De Montfort. &ldquo;Hold fast thy foul tongue. What
+meanest thou by uttering such lies, and to my very face?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They be no lies, Simon de Montfort. An I tell thee that Roger de Conde
+and Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak no
+lie.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Montfort paled.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where be the craven wretch?&rdquo; he demanded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the little, old man. And turning, he led from the
+hall, closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the others.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men&mdash;thou&rsquo;lt need
+them all to take Norman of Torn,&rdquo; he advised De Montfort. And so as they
+passed the guard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard the
+tramping of many feet. They seemed approaching up the dim corridor that led to
+the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand upon the
+latch, waited. Yes, they were coming that way, many of them and quickly and, as
+he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras and pushed open the door
+behind him; backing into the other apartment just as Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester, burst into the room from the opposite side.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and, turning, he
+faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queen of England and
+another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their ladies.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even had there
+been where to run. Slowly, he backed away from the door toward a corner where,
+with his back against a wall and a table at his right, he might die as he had
+lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that he could hope for no quarter from
+the men who had him cornered there like a great bear in a trap.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man, even
+though that man were the Devil of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and were within
+the room where the outlaw stood at bay.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddled together,
+while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemen and as many
+men-at-arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?&rdquo; cried De Montfort, angrily.
+&ldquo;Where be my daughter, Bertrade?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs,&rdquo; replied
+Norman of Torn, &ldquo;which be the affair of no other man. As to your
+daughter: I know nothing of her whereabouts. What should she have to do with
+the Devil of Torn, My Lord?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He lies,&rdquo; shouted he. &ldquo;Her kisses be yet wet upon his
+lips.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was now partly
+raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty years, he had called
+father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery and harm from
+him? No, he could not believe it. One of them must have gone mad. But why
+Flory&rsquo;s armor and where was the faithful Flory?
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Father!&rdquo; he ejaculated, &ldquo;leadest thou the hated English King
+against thine own son?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn,&rdquo; retorted the old man.
+&ldquo;Thy days of usefulness to me be past. Tonight thou serve me best
+swinging from a wooden gibbet. Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a good
+strong gibbet in the courtyard below.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?&rdquo; cried De Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;when this floor be ankle deep in
+English blood and my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, come,&rdquo; cried the King. &ldquo;Let your men take the dog, De
+Montfort!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have at him, then,&rdquo; ordered the Earl, turning toward the waiting
+men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon the doomed
+outlaw.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushed forward in
+a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared against one.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn. It was grim battle and his only
+hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before he himself went
+down.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and as quickly as
+he might. And to those who watched, it was as though the young officer of the
+Guard had not come within reach of that terrible blade ere he lay dead upon the
+floor, and then the point of death passed into the lungs of one of the
+men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere it pierced the heart of a third.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of that mighty
+arm. Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack, a girlish
+figure, clothed in a long riding cloak, burst through the little knot of men as
+they stood facing their lone antagonist.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfort threw
+herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonished company of king,
+prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her full height, and with all the
+pride of race and blood that was her right of heritage from a French king on
+her father&rsquo;s side and an English king on her mother&rsquo;s, she flashed
+her defiance and contempt in the single word:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Cowards!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What means this, girl?&rdquo; demanded De Montfort, &ldquo;Art gone
+stark mad? Know thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I had not before known it, My Lord,&rdquo; she replied haughtily,
+&ldquo;it would be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack
+a lone man. What other man in all England could stand thus against forty? A
+lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Enough, girl,&rdquo; cried the King, &ldquo;what be this knave to
+thee?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He loves me, Your Majesty,&rdquo; she replied proudly, &ldquo;and I,
+him.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou lov&rsquo;st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade,&rdquo; cried
+Henry. &ldquo;Thou, a De Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen
+this murderer&rsquo;s accursed mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have
+seen him flaunt his defiance in the King&rsquo;s, thy uncle&rsquo;s, face, and
+bend his whole life to preying upon thy people; thou lov&rsquo;st this
+monster?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I love him, My Lord King.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou lov&rsquo;st him, Bertrade?&rdquo; asked Philip of France in a low
+tone, pressing nearer to the girl.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Philip,&rdquo; she said, a little note of sadness and finality in
+her voice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, and facing
+De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Who takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of
+France as well.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other&rsquo;s shoulder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, thou must not do this thing, my friend,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It be
+my fight and I will fight it alone. Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee,
+out of harm&rsquo;s way.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together, and, at a
+word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the attack again. It was
+a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two could not fight with the girl
+between them and their adversaries. And thus, by weight of numbers, they took
+Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince away from Norman of Torn without a blow
+being struck, and then the little, grim, gray, old man stepped forward.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can,
+alone, take Norman of Torn,&rdquo; he said, addressing the King, &ldquo;and
+that sword be mine. Keep thy cattle back, out of my way.&rdquo; And, without
+waiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom for twenty
+years he had called son.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, and there,
+in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of Battel, was fought
+such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor is it credible that its
+like was ever fought before or since.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The world&rsquo;s two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil&mdash;the one with
+the strength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray fox,
+and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of blood and
+hate before them&mdash;thrust and parried and cut until those that gazed
+awestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in the tensity of
+their wonder.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come to kill
+pressed back to make room for the contestants. Now was the young man forcing
+his older foeman more and more upon the defensive. Slowly, but as sure as
+death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory. The old man saw it
+too. He had devoted years of his life to training that mighty sword arm that it
+might deal out death to others, and now&mdash;ah! The grim justice of the
+retribution&mdash;he, at last, was to fall before its diabolical cunning.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wily Frenchman
+saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt its cold breath
+condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and so he cast about for any
+means whereby he might escape the result of his rash venture.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently he saw his opportunity. Norman of Torn stood beside the body of one
+of his earlier antagonists. Slowly the old man worked around until the body lay
+directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final rally and one great last
+burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushed Norman of Torn back for a bare
+step&mdash;it was enough. The outlaw&rsquo;s foot struck the prostrate corpse;
+he staggered, and for one brief instant his sword arm rose, ever so little, as
+he strove to retain his equilibrium; but that little was enough. It was what
+the gray old snake had expected, and he was ready. Like lightning, his sword
+shot through the opening, and, for the first time in his life of continual
+combat and death, Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh. But ere he
+fell, his sword responded to the last fierce command of that iron will, and as
+his body sank limply to the floor, rolling with outstretched arms, upon its
+back, the little, grim, gray man went down also, clutching frantically at a
+gleaming blade buried in his chest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and then Bertrade de
+Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of her father, rushed to
+the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved. Kneeling there beside him
+she called his name aloud, as she unlaced his helm. Tearing the steel headgear
+from him, she caressed his face, kissing the white forehead and the still lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh God! Oh God!&rdquo; she murmured. &ldquo;Why hast thou taken him?
+Outlaw though he was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of
+true manhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do not wonder that he preyed upon you,&rdquo; she cried, turning upon
+the knights behind her. &ldquo;His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was
+loyal to his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all; and
+ever be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink deeper into the
+mud. Mon Dieu! How I hate you,&rdquo; she finished. And as she spoke the words,
+Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of her father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad, kindly man,
+and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of anger.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Come, child,&rdquo; said the King, &ldquo;thou art distraught; thou
+sayest what thou mean not. The world is better that this man be dead. He was an
+enemy of organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows. Life in England
+will be safer after this day. Do not weep over the clay of a nameless
+adventurer who knew not his own father.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting posture. He was
+not dead. Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his frame was racked with
+suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak. Weakly he motioned toward the
+King. Henry came toward him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Thou hast won thy sovereign&rsquo;s gratitude, my man,&rdquo; said the
+King, kindly. &ldquo;What be thy name?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on another paroxysm of
+coughing. At last he managed to whisper.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look&mdash;at&mdash;me. Dost thou&mdash;not&mdash;remember me?
+The&mdash;foils&mdash;the&mdash;blow&mdash;twenty-long-years.
+Thou&mdash;spat&mdash;upon&mdash;me.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;De Vac!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Outlaw&mdash;highwayman&mdash;scourge&mdash;of&mdash;England.
+Look&mdash;upon&mdash;his&mdash;face. Open&mdash;his
+tunic&mdash;left&mdash;breast.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a final effort:
+&ldquo;De&mdash;Vac&rsquo;s&mdash;revenge.
+God&mdash;damn&mdash;the&mdash;English,&rdquo; and slipped forward upon the
+rushes, dead.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen. They stood looking into each
+other&rsquo;s eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed an eternity, before
+any dared to move; and then, as though they feared what they should see, they
+bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for the first time.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up to hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Edward!&rdquo; she whispered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Not Edward, Madame,&rdquo; said De Montfort, &ldquo;but&mdash;&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay the
+unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to the waiting
+arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands, tore off the
+shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide the tunic where it
+covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh God!&rdquo; he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the body of her
+second born, crying out:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!&rdquo; And as she bent still lower to kiss
+the lily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for over
+twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her ear to his
+breast.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;He lives!&rdquo; she almost shrieked. &ldquo;Quick, Henry, our son
+lives!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of France
+had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on his arm, watching
+with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being enacted at her feet.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness. Before
+him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor, knelt Eleanor,
+Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his hands.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought the Outlaw
+of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting against
+one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see who it might be
+supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon whose breast his head
+rested.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a very terrible
+wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why could he not dream
+that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyes wandered about among the
+throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standing uncovered and with bowed heads
+about him. Presently he found her.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bertrade!&rdquo; he whispered.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I be very real, dear heart,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;and these others
+be real, also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing
+that has happened. These who were thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy best
+friends now&mdash;that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peace until
+thou be better.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faint sigh.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen&rsquo;s, and all that
+night the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing his
+fevered forehead. The King&rsquo;s chirurgeon was there also, while the King
+and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses, or in
+the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is found again be always
+the best beloved.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep; the fever
+and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health and iron constitution. The
+chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de Montfort.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;You had best retire, ladies,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and rest. The Prince
+will live.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands on the
+part of the King&rsquo;s chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince,&rdquo; urged the
+chirurgeon.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why call thou me prince?&rdquo; asked Norman of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee,&rdquo;
+replied the chirurgeon, &ldquo;and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt,
+thou mayst see her, My Lord.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to a sentry
+who stood just without. The sentry transmitted the message to a young squire
+who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown open again from
+without, and a voice announced:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Her Majesty, the Queen!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came back to him
+the scene in the Queen&rsquo;s apartment the night before. It was all a sore
+perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he attempt to.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward him across
+the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant with
+happiness and love.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Richard, my son!&rdquo; exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his
+face in her hands and kissing him.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Madame!&rdquo; exclaimed the surprised man. &ldquo;Be all the world gone
+crazy?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince of England.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his and raising
+it to his lips.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;I did not know, Madame,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;or never would my sword
+have been bared in other service than thine. If thou canst forgive me, Madame,
+never can I forgive myself.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Take it not so hard, my son,&rdquo; said Eleanor of England. &ldquo;It
+be no fault of thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and
+rejoicing should we feel, now that thou be found again.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forgiveness!&rdquo; said a man&rsquo;s voice behind them.
+&ldquo;Forsooth, it be we that should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son
+with swords and halters.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who sent
+the King&rsquo;s army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King&rsquo;s
+message down his messenger&rsquo;s throat.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King&rsquo;s son,
+an&rsquo; though we made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee
+now.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the King standing
+behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and greeted his father.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They be sorry jokes, Sire,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Methinks it had been
+better had Richard remained lost. It will do the honor of the Plantagenets but
+little good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King of England to
+wipe the great name from the pages of history&mdash;perhaps a jealous king.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of the chirurgeon,
+prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he had done so they left
+him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the door closed behind them
+than he arose and left the apartment by another exit.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom he was
+searching. She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression half sad upon
+her beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached, and he stood there
+for several moments watching her dear profile, and the rising and falling of
+her bosom over that true and loyal heart that had beaten so proudly against all
+the power of a mighty throne for the despised Outlaw of Torn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense which warns us
+that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our ears hear, caused her to
+turn.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner of the
+court, said:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor
+subject?&rdquo; And then, more gravely, &ldquo;My Lord, I have been raised at
+court, and I understand that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget
+what passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal
+precedents,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;for he will wed not rashly, but most
+wisely, since he will wed none but Bertrade de Montfort.&rdquo; And he who had
+been the Outlaw of Torn took the fair young girl in his arms, adding: &ldquo;If
+she still loves me, now that I be a prince?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince I love
+now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman&mdash;it be thee I love,
+dear heart&mdash;just thee.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Outlaw of Torn
+
+Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+Release Date: July 8, 2008 [EBook #369]
+Last Updated: March 14, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTLAW OF TORN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTLAW OF TORN
+
+By Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+
+To My Friend
+
+JOSEPH E. BRAY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years. At first
+it was suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England. Later it
+was forgotten. I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident being
+the relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain Father Superior in a
+very ancient monastery in Europe.
+
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts
+and I came across this. It is very interesting--partially since it is a
+bit of hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that
+it records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous
+life of its innocent victim--Richard, the lost prince of England.
+
+In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. What
+interested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves--the
+visored horseman who--but let us wait until we get to him.
+
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening,
+it shook England from north to south and from east to west; and reached
+across the channel and shook France. It started, directly, in the London
+palace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the King
+and his powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.
+
+Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can read all about it at
+your leisure. But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243, Henry
+so forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason in
+the presence of a number of the King's gentlemen.
+
+De Montfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himself
+to his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of his
+wrath, as he did that day, he was very imposing. A power in England,
+second only to the King himself, and with the heart of a lion in him, he
+answered the King as no other man in all England would have dared answer
+him.
+
+“My Lord King,” he cried, “that you be my Lord King alone prevents Simon
+de Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult. That
+you take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare say
+were you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you a
+coward.”
+
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers as
+these awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to his
+king. They were horrified, for De Montfort's bold challenge was to them
+but little short of sacrilege.
+
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon De
+Montfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he
+thought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty
+sneer, turned to his courtiers.
+
+“Come, my gentlemen,” he said, “methought that we were to have a turn
+with the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, De Fulm! Come,
+Leybourn!” and the King left the apartment followed by his gentlemen,
+all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it became
+apparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him. As the
+arras fell behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his broad
+shoulders, and turning, left the apartment by another door.
+
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still
+smarting from the humiliation of De Montfort's reproaches, and as he
+laid aside his surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm,
+his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was
+advancing with the King's foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for
+fencing with De Fulm, who, like the other sycophants that surrounded
+him, always allowed the King easily to best him in every encounter.
+
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit
+himself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry
+felt that he could best the devil himself.
+
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the
+guard room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that it
+had light from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled,
+leather-skinned Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to
+face him in mimic combat with the foils, for the King wished to go with
+hammer and tongs at someone to vent his suppressed rage.
+
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person of the hated De
+Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an early
+and mortifying defeat by the King's sudden and clever attack.
+
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day
+he quite outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run
+the pseudo De Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his
+audience. For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac twice
+around the hall when, with a clever feint, and backward step, the master
+of fence drew the King into the position he wanted him, and with the
+suddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry's weapon
+clanging across the floor of the armory.
+
+For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand of
+death had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers.
+The episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the best
+swordsman in England--for that surely was no disgrace--to Henry it
+seemed prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should
+stand face to face with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in De
+Vac only the creature of his imagination with which he had vested the
+likeness of his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like
+to have done to the real Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced
+close to De Vac.
+
+“Dog!” he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow across
+the face, and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode from
+the armory.
+
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he
+hated all things English and all Englishmen. The dead King John, though
+hated by all others, he had loved, but with the dead King's bones De
+Vac's loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral of
+Worcester.
+
+During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court,
+the sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only
+De Vac could teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in the
+discharge of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred and
+contempt for his pupils.
+
+And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might only
+be wiped out by blood.
+
+As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, and
+throwing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue
+before his master. White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he
+spoke no word.
+
+He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left to
+him no alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fight
+with a lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live--the king's
+honor must be satisfied.
+
+Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and gloried
+in the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France; but an
+English King--pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De Vac would
+find other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would revel in
+revenge against this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If possible, he
+would harm the whole of England if he could, but he would bide his time.
+He could afford to wait for his opportunity if, by waiting, he could
+encompass a more terrible revenge.
+
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed the
+best swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footsteps
+of his father until, on the latter's death, he could easily claim the
+title of his sire. How he had left France and entered the service of
+John of England is not of this story. All the bearing that the life of
+Jules de Vac has upon the history of England hinges upon but two of his
+many attributes--his wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for
+his adopted country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, on
+the third day following the King's affront to De Vac, might have been a
+seen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroidered
+with gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves,
+which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of the
+garment. A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones,
+and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garment
+about her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdle
+after the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger of
+beautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimple
+of violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head and
+shoulders.
+
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like his
+companion, in gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was rich
+with embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white
+silk. His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were
+cross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On the
+back of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which a
+single plume of white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proud
+little head.
+
+The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave
+an expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have
+been too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with
+his companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, which
+sat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to
+turn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she could
+scarce repress.
+
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little
+bush near them, said, “Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I
+would play at toss.”
+
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place
+and turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played
+beneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the
+ball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he
+made a particularly good catch.
+
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim,
+gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in
+a malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
+
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely
+young woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was
+working out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+
+For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for
+some means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry had
+put upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd
+and cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of the
+terrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded.
+
+His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled
+political conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he might
+wrest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses
+and to the harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King.
+
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory
+when the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac had
+heard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that could
+well be turned to the King's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy.
+
+With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the
+terms of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with his
+kingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vac
+had gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: that
+Henry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries,
+and with Louis IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights and
+men-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons that he might
+effectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the royal
+prerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England.
+
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: the
+point of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first point
+of attack. Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in
+this venture so dear to his heart!
+
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their
+retainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces.
+
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he was
+beholden for his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons would
+depose Henry, and place a new king upon England's throne, and then De
+Vac would mock the Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectable
+vengeance, indeed! And the old man licked his thin lips as though to
+taste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel.
+
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where
+the old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, De
+Vac's eyes fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as the
+fog before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him the
+whole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ upon
+the leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him. And,
+in so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the details
+of that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the twenty
+years which followed.
+
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal
+father was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of
+England. No published history mentions this little lost prince; only the
+secret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strange
+and adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the records of men;
+and the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of the world; though
+in his time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of the
+English.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in the
+gardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of his
+tiny life with his nurses and governesses.
+
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repair
+to the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a little
+postern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom the
+Queen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
+
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and
+plans, unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowers
+and shrubbery of the garden.
+
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had managed
+to coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to the
+little postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnight
+escapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner of
+his adventure, and, what was more to the point with Brus, at the same
+time slipping a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm.
+
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainer
+of the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac might be
+up to, Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, the
+key to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands as though Henry
+himself had it.
+
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence
+should, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more
+befitting the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern was
+it of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardens
+so that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shaded
+walks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants and
+blooming flowers which he set with such wondrous precision in the formal
+garden?
+
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this;
+and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take this
+means of rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he to
+ignore the divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac the
+key, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of his royal
+father's garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it should have
+been.
+
+That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side of
+London; one who could not possibly know him or recognize the key
+as belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waiting
+impatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments of
+his time.
+
+From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanes
+and alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional
+smoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance
+from the palace.
+
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of the
+Thames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of the
+river rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath
+the dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dock
+rats and their fiercer human antitypes.
+
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search of
+the little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it,
+and, after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened
+by a slatternly old hag.
+
+“What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?” she grumbled.
+“Ah, 'tis ye, my lord?” she added, hastily, as the flickering rays of
+the candle she bore lighted up De Vac's face. “Welcome, my Lord, thrice
+welcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother.”
+
+“Silence, old hag,” cried De Vac. “Is it not enough that you leech me
+of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles
+of villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs
+burden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?
+
+“Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate
+to perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had
+delivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and
+cobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the dead
+Romans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too, from
+the stink, they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty with
+their herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broom
+to the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin.”
+
+“Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan,” cried the woman. “I would rather hear
+thy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted from
+thy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice
+as it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
+
+“The bundle is ready,” she continued, closing the door after De Vac, who
+had now entered, “and here be the key; but first let us have a payment.
+I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from the
+secrecy which you have demanded, an' I dare say there will be some who
+would pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child,
+thy sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious to
+hide away in old Til's garret. So it be well for you, my Lord, to pay
+old Til well and add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if you
+would that your prisoner find peace in old Til's house.”
+
+“Fetch me the bundle, hag,” replied De Vac, “and you shall have gold
+against a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goes
+well and thou holdest thy vile tongue.”
+
+But the old woman's threats had already caused De Vac a feeling of
+uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in
+the old woman had she known the determination her words had caused in
+the mind of the old master of fence.
+
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure too
+fraught with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyal
+fellow-conspirator. True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of the
+plot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, his
+stern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions, and
+with them her curiosity and cupidity. So it was that old Til might well
+have quailed in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessed
+the thoughts which passed in De Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieces
+he dropped into her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him,
+together with the promise of more, quite effectually won her loyalty and
+her silence for the time being.
+
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle
+with his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alley
+and hastened toward the dock.
+
+Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlier
+in the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.
+Then, casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palace
+walls, he moored near to the little postern gate which let into the
+lower end of the garden.
+
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to
+the water's edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty of
+the aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and,
+unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
+
+The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old man
+that he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convinced
+him of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose
+youth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames might
+find lodgement for rheumatism.
+
+“Ha, Sir Jules,” laughed the old gardener, “Virtue and Vice be twin
+sisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.
+Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man
+desires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of his
+desire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires his
+own wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not
+that likewise virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtain
+our desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, then
+it were virtue to remain at home.”
+
+“Right you sound, old mole,” said De Vac, smiling, “would that I might
+learn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me in
+good stead before I be much older.”
+
+“The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the
+sword, I should think,” said Brus, returning to his work.
+
+That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking out
+upon the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two
+hundred yards away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth,
+sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while here
+and there marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in
+the brilliant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, took
+on a semblance of life from the riotous play of light and shadow as the
+leaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in the
+distance, the river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, and
+the formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by a
+background of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees and
+flowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder.
+
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stone
+benches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swings
+suspended from the branches of fruit trees.
+
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and her
+little charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher in
+the window behind them.
+
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as
+Richard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the little
+postern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had
+been waiting without. Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm to
+the little bower which was their trysting place.
+
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince played
+happily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern,
+determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distance
+from the playing boy.
+
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly
+which fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in the
+bushes. Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in another
+moment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing the
+implacable master of fence.
+
+“Your Highness,” said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, “let old
+DeVac help you catch the pretty insect.”
+
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so together
+they started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed out
+of sight. De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate,
+but when he would have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latter
+rebelled.
+
+“Come, My Lord Prince,” urged De Vac, “methinks the butterfly did but
+alight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden in
+an instant.”
+
+“Go thyself and fetch it,” replied the Prince; “the King, my father, has
+forbid me stepping without the palace grounds.”
+
+“Come,” commanded De Vac, more sternly, “no harm can come to you.”
+
+But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac was
+forced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and
+alarm from the royal child.
+
+“Unhand me, sirrah,” screamed the boy. “How dare you lay hands on a
+prince of England?”
+
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries,
+but it was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an
+instant, they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing
+his sword as he ran.
+
+When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside,
+and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate.
+But, handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key
+before the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out before
+the master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
+
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly
+affrightened Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted
+the officer.
+
+There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentions
+were too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each
+other with grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman that
+France had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince.
+
+In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of
+chivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged through
+the heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped between
+Lady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the garden
+and give the alarm.
+
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing the
+lady in waiting, his back against the door.
+
+“Mon Dieu, Sir Jules,” she cried, “hast thou gone mad?”
+
+“No, My Lady,” he answered, “but I had not thought to do the work which
+now lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head
+and let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling? Your
+rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you or
+I, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself for
+death.”
+
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by
+the great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap
+still further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading and
+humiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King feared
+this mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follies
+which were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
+
+What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for
+Leicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came
+an interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier in
+a common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
+
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and
+Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming
+down her pale cheeks.
+
+“Oh, My Lord! My Lord!” she cried, “Richard, our son, has been
+assassinated and thrown into the Thames.”
+
+In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the
+greatest difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statement
+from his queen.
+
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with
+Prince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an
+immediate search had been instituted--a search which did not end for
+over twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the
+court to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the dead
+bodies of Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere
+was there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of
+England, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm.
+
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was
+that one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of
+the episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the
+King's little son became apparent.
+
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England,
+for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark which
+closely resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was found
+bearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search was
+carried into France, nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time for
+more than twenty years.
+
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it was
+subjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassin
+could have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killed
+the Lady Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
+
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had
+always been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members of
+the King's household.
+
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king was
+healed, and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority in
+Gascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royal
+master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced,
+for, merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Too
+far he had gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady
+Maud alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the city of London
+would have been on his heels in ten minutes; there would have been no
+escape.
+
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and
+whimper in his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that a
+threat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led
+him to the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes.
+
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had first
+intended. Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneath
+the thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a
+cotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair.
+Concealing the child beneath the other articles of clothing, he pushed
+off from the bank, and, rowing close to the shore, hastened down the
+Thames toward the old dock where, the previous night, he had concealed
+his skiff. He reached his destination unnoticed, and, running in beneath
+the dock, worked the boat far into the dark recess of the cave-like
+retreat.
+
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew that
+the search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, and
+that none might traverse the streets of London without being subject to
+the closest scrutiny.
+
+Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince and
+clothed him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundle
+hidden beneath the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match,
+a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap.
+
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn
+from the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned the
+bundle to the voiceless river.
+
+The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and,
+finding that De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow
+commenced questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this
+strange adventure getting the better of his former apprehension.
+
+“What do we here, Sir Jules?” he asked. “Take me back to the King's, my
+father's palace. I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments you
+have placed upon me.”
+
+“Silence, boy!” commanded the old man. “Sir Jules be dead, nor are you
+a king's son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me hear
+you speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince.”
+
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor.
+Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry and
+frightened--just a poor little baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands
+of this cruel enemy--all his royalty as nothing, all gone with the
+silken finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames,
+and presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the skiff.
+
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to the
+side of the dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood
+listening, preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til's
+place.
+
+As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive
+ears; louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that a
+number of men were approaching.
+
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath
+the dock. Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights and
+men-at-arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the
+dark alley. Here they stopped as though for consultation and plainly
+could the listener below hear every word of their conversation.
+
+“De Montfort,” said one, “what thinkest thou of it? Can it be that the
+Queen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters?”
+
+“No, De Clare,” replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as that of
+the Earl of Leicester. “The hand that could steal the Prince from out of
+the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or her
+companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easily
+and safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been the
+object of this strange attack. I think, My Lord, that presently we shall
+hear from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince for
+ransom. God give that such may be the case, for of all the winsome and
+affectionate little fellows I have ever seen, not even excepting mine
+own dear son, the little Richard was the most to be beloved. Would that
+I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done this horrid deed.”
+
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the
+object of his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and
+the voices above him had awakened the little Prince and, with a startled
+cry, he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De Vac's iron
+band clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail had
+reached the ears of the men above.
+
+“Hark! What was that, My Lord?” cried one of the men-at-arms.
+
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then De
+Montfort cried out:
+
+“What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the name
+of the King!”
+
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free
+himself, but De Vac's ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the
+babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening
+for a repetition of the sound.
+
+“Dock rats,” said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided them to
+protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose
+boards, and ran squealing up the dark alley.
+
+“Right you are,” said De Montfort, “but I could have sworn 'twas a
+child's feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine own
+eyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no success
+here, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious to
+bargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to
+give us.”
+
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of the
+listeners beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance.
+
+“A close shave,” thought De Vac, as he again took up the child and
+prepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him,
+he soon reached the door to Til's house and, inserting the key, crept
+noiselessly to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored
+hostess.
+
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, this
+ascent being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up
+after him, closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbed
+with his burden, by means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars.
+
+The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east end
+of the building, and had windows upon three sides. These were heavily
+curtained. The apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging from a
+rafter near the center of the room.
+
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing a
+most barnlike and unhospitable appearance.
+
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; a
+cupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings. These
+articles De Vac had purchased for the room against the time when he
+should occupy it with his little prisoner.
+
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing
+honey, a pitcher of milk and two drinking horns. To these, De Vac
+immediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of what
+he wished.
+
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince's fears, and he set
+to with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse by
+the rude utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal
+magnificence of his palace apartments.
+
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the building
+in search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. The
+words of De Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced him
+that here was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge which
+must be removed as had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was
+neither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, or
+to cause the grim executioner a pang of remorse.
+
+When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the
+street, in fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building.
+Still clad as he was in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til
+did not, at first, recognize him, and when he spoke, she burst into
+a nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in the perpetration of some
+questionable act, nor did her manner escape the shrewd notice of the
+wily master of fence.
+
+“Whither, old hag?” he asked.
+
+“To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end, by the river, My Lord,” she
+replied, with more respect than she had been wont to accord him.
+
+“Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you can
+give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I have
+moored there.”
+
+And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the
+rickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the King
+would lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could
+give; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long dagger
+which nestled there.
+
+As they reached the water's edge, De Vac was walking with his right
+shoulder behind his companion's left, in his hand was gripped the keen
+blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just
+below her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at the
+same instant that De Vac's left hand swung up and grasped her throat in
+a grip of steel.
+
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening old
+muscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward into
+the Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope that
+Prince Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent
+old woman lived in the heart of London within a stone's throw of the
+King's palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of
+an old building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad
+alone, nor by day. And upon his left breast was a strange mark which
+resembled a lily. When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room,
+with bolted door behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and discard
+her dingy mantle for more comfortable and becoming doublet and hose.
+
+For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy's education. There
+were three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and hatred
+of all things English, especially the reigning house of England.
+
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the
+little boy the art of fence when he was but three years old.
+
+“You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty,
+my son,” she was wont to say, “and then you shall go out and kill many
+Englishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth
+of England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck,
+aha, then will I speak. Then shall they know.”
+
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he was
+comfortable, and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and that
+he would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real sword,
+and had grown large enough to wield one. He also knew that he hated
+Englishmen, but why, he did not know.
+
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, he
+seemed to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very
+different; when, instead of this old woman, there had been many people
+around him, and a sweet faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed
+him, before he was taken off to bed at night; but he could not be sure,
+maybe it was only a dream he remembered, for he dreamed many strange and
+wonderful dreams.
+
+When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came to
+their attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk of
+the evening but the old woman did not light the cresset, and further,
+she whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far corner
+of the bare chamber.
+
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost
+his entire face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bit
+of wrinkled forehead. When he spoke, he accompanied his words with many
+shrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and other
+strange and amusing gesticulations. The child was fascinated. Here was
+the first amusement of his little starved life. He listened intently to
+the conversation, which was in French.
+
+“I have just the thing for madame,” the stranger was saying. “It be a
+noble and stately hall far from the beaten way. It was built in the old
+days by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants. A few years
+since, Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri de
+Macy, who pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay. Today
+it be my property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it for the
+mere song I have named. It be a wondrous bargain, madame.”
+
+“And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumbling
+pile of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes,” replied the
+old woman peevishly.
+
+“One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one wing
+hath sagged and tumbled in,” explained the old Frenchman. “But the three
+lower stories be intact and quite habitable. It be much grander even
+now than the castles of many of England's noble barons, and the price,
+madame--ah, the price be so ridiculously low.”
+
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+
+“Come,” said the Frenchman, “I have it. Deposit the money with Isaac the
+Jew--thou knowest him?--and he shall hold it together with the deed
+for forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby and
+inspect thy purchase. If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the Jew
+shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the end
+of forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaac
+send the deed to thee and the money to me. Be not this an easy and fair
+way out of the difficulty?”
+
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that
+it seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter. And thus it was
+accomplished.
+
+Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her.
+
+“We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home. Thy face shall
+be wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache. Dost
+understand?”
+
+“But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I--”
+ expostulated the child.
+
+“Tut, tut,” interrupted the little old woman. “Thou hast a toothache,
+and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags. And listen, should any ask
+thee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that thou
+hast a toothache. And thou do not do as I say, the King's men will take
+us and we shall be hanged, for the King hateth us. If thou hatest the
+English King and lovest thy life do as I command.”
+
+“I hate the King,” replied the little boy. “For this reason I shall do
+as thou sayest.”
+
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north
+toward the hills of Derby. For many days they travelled, riding upon
+two small donkeys. Strange sights filled the days for the little boy
+who remembered nothing outside the bare attic of his London home and the
+dirty London alleys that he had traversed only by night.
+
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark,
+forbidding forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of
+thatched huts. Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway,
+alone or in small parties, but the child's companion always managed to
+hasten into cover at the road side until the grim riders had passed.
+
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade
+across which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade
+from either side. For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in
+silence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black charger,
+cried out something to the other which the boy could not catch. The
+other knight made no response other than to rest his lance upon his
+thigh and with lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary. For a
+dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another, but
+presently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the two iron
+men on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of the
+glade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
+
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his
+foeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon
+the gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway. The
+momentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horseman
+before his rider could rein him in, then the black knight turned to view
+the havoc he had wrought. The gray horse was just staggering dizzily to
+his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen.
+
+With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his
+vanquished foe. There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned
+toward the prostrate form. He spoke tauntingly, but there was no
+response, then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.
+Even this elicited no movement. With a shrug of his iron clad shoulders,
+the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he had
+disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encircling
+forest.
+
+The little boy was spell-bound. Naught like this had he ever seen or
+dreamed.
+
+“Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son,” said the little old
+woman.
+
+“Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?” he
+asked.
+
+“Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance
+and mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and
+death, for every man shalt be thy enemy. But come, we must be on our
+way.”
+
+They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always in
+his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for the
+day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight.
+
+On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the
+notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares,
+they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some
+bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised and
+defenseless tradesmen.
+
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeons
+and daggers, with here and there a cross-bow. Without mercy they
+attacked the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood even
+when they offered no resistance. Those of the caravan who could,
+escaped, the balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, as
+they hurried away with their loot.
+
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little
+old woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips. She
+noted his expression of dismay.
+
+“It is naught, my son. But English curs setting upon English swine. Some
+day thou shalt set upon both--they be only fit for killing.”
+
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which
+he had seen. Knights were cruel to knights--the poor were cruel to the
+rich--and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind
+that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor. He had seen
+them in all their sorrow and misery and poverty--stretching a long,
+scattering line all the way from London town. Their bent backs, their
+poor thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the weary
+wretchedness of their existence.
+
+“Be no one happy in all the world?” he once broke out to the old woman.
+
+“Only he who wields the mightiest sword,” responded the old woman. “You
+have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts. They set upon and
+kill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all.
+When thou shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for
+unless thou kill them, they will kill thee.”
+
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little
+hamlet in the hills. Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse
+purchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting
+country away from the beaten track, until late one evening they
+approached a ruined castle.
+
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and
+where a portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining
+through the narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the
+likeness of a huge, many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a
+deserted world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation.
+
+Before this somber pile, the two dismounted. The little boy was filled
+with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the
+crumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them. From the dark
+shadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court. At the
+far end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with decaying
+planks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of oats
+upon the floor for him from a bag which had hung across his rump.
+
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting
+their advance with a flickering pine knot. The old planking of the
+floors, long unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach. There
+was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed by
+in a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night.
+
+Presently they came to the great hall. The old woman pushed open the
+great doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty,
+cavernous interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch. As they
+stepped cautiously within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurts
+from the long-rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet. A huge
+bat circled wildly with loud fluttering wings in evident remonstrance at
+this rude intrusion. Strange creatures of the night scurried or wriggled
+across wall and floor.
+
+But the child was unafraid. Fear had not been a part of the old woman's
+curriculum. The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor was
+he ever in his after-life to experience the sensation. With childish
+eagerness, he followed his companion as she inspected the interior of
+the chamber. It was still an imposing room. The boy clapped his hands
+in delight at the beauties of the carved and panelled walls and the oak
+beamed ceiling, stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oil
+cressets that had lighted it in bygone days, aided, no doubt, by the
+wood fires which had burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the
+merry throng of noble revellers that had so often sat about the great
+table into the morning hours.
+
+Here they took up their abode. But the bent, old woman was no longer an
+old woman--she had become a straight, wiry, active old man.
+
+The little boy's education went on--French, swordsmanship and hatred
+of the English--the same thing year after year with the addition of
+horsemanship after he was ten years old. At this time the old man
+commenced teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and very
+marked French accent. During all his life now, he could not remember of
+having spoken to any living being other than his guardian, whom he had
+been taught to address as father. Nor did the boy have any name--he was
+just “my son.”
+
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exacting
+duties of his education that he had little time to think of the strange
+loneliness of his existence; nor is it probable that he missed that
+companionship of others of his own age of which, never having had
+experience in it, he could scarce be expected to regret or yearn for.
+
+At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and with
+an utter contempt for pain or danger--a contempt which was the result of
+the heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him.
+Often the two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and without armor or
+other protection of any description.
+
+“Thus only,” the old man was wont to say, “mayst thou become the
+absolute master of thy blade. Of such a nicety must be thy handling of
+the weapon that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly,
+shouldst thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of a
+master hand, mayst be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch.”
+
+But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of them
+would nurse a punctured skin for a few days. So, while blood was often
+let on both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who was
+so truly the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within a
+fraction of an inch of the spot he sought.
+
+At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad. Bronzed
+and hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none that
+he might talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for
+that he was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking French
+fluently and English poorly--and waiting impatiently for the day when
+the old man should send him out into the world with clanking armor and
+lance and shield to do battle with the knights of England.
+
+It was about this time that there occurred the first important break in
+the monotony of his existence. Far down the rocky trail that led from
+the valley below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three
+armored knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill
+autumn day. Off the main road and far from any habitation, they had
+espied the castle's towers through a rift in the hills, and now they
+spurred toward it in search of food and shelter.
+
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenly
+emerged upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes
+which caused them to draw rein and watch in admiration. There, before
+them upon the downs, a boy battled with a lunging, rearing horse--a
+perfect demon of a black horse. Striking and biting in a frenzy of
+rage, it sought ever to escape or injure the lithe figure which clung
+leech-like to its shoulder.
+
+The boy was on the ground. His left hand grasped the heavy mane;
+his right arm lay across the beast's withers and his right hand drew
+steadily in upon a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch
+about the horse's muzzle. Now the black reared and wheeled, striking
+and biting, full upon the youth, but the active figure swung with
+him--always just behind the giant shoulder--and ever and ever he drew
+the great arched neck farther and farther to the right.
+
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged the
+boy with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the
+grip upon mane and withers. Suddenly, he reared straight into the air
+carrying the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himself
+backward upon the ground.
+
+“It's death!” exclaimed one of the knights, “he will kill the youth yet,
+Beauchamp.”
+
+“No!” cried he addressed. “Look! He is up again and the boy still clings
+as tightly to him as his own black hide.”
+
+“'Tis true,” exclaimed another, “but he hath lost what he had gained
+upon the halter--he must needs fight it all out again from the
+beginning.”
+
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing the
+iron neck slowly to the right--the beast fighting and squealing as
+though possessed of a thousand devils. A dozen times, as the head bent
+farther and farther toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the mane
+and reached quickly down to grasp the near fore pastern. A dozen times
+the horse shook off the new hold, but at length the boy was successful,
+and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow.
+
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feet
+and his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position. His
+efforts became weaker and weaker. The boy talked incessantly to him in
+a quiet voice, and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. Now
+he bore heavily upon the black withers, pulling the horse toward him.
+Slowly the beast sank upon his bent knee--pulling backward until his off
+fore leg was stretched straight before him. Then, with a final surge,
+the youth pulled him over upon his side, and, as he fell, slipped prone
+beside him. One sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the black
+chin--the other grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, but
+with his head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of the
+boy as a baby would have been. Then he sank panting and exhausted into
+mute surrender.
+
+“Well done!” cried one of the knights. “Simon de Montfort himself never
+mastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?”
+
+In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the
+speaker. The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood--the
+handsome boy and the beautiful black--gazing with startled eyes, like
+two wild things, at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+
+“Come, Sir Mortimer!” cried the boy, and turning he led the prancing but
+subdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican into
+the court beyond.
+
+“What ho, there, lad!” shouted Paul of Merely. “We wouldst not harm
+thee--come, we but ask the way to the castle of De Stutevill.”
+
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+
+“Come, Sir Knights,” spoke Paul of Merely, “we will ride within and
+learn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery.”
+
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruined
+grandeur, they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in no
+gentle tones what they would of them there.
+
+“We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old man,”
+ replied Paul of Merely. “We seek the castle of Sir John de Stutevill.”
+
+“Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to the
+right, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ride
+north beside the river--thou canst not miss the way--it be plain as the
+nose before thy face,” and with that the old man turned to enter the
+castle.
+
+“Hold, old fellow!” cried the spokesman. “It be nigh onto sunset now,
+and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last. We
+will tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journey
+refreshed, upon rested steeds.”
+
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in to
+feed and house them over night. But there was nothing else for it, since
+they would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it
+voluntarily.
+
+From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outside
+their Derby hills. The old man showed less interest than he felt, but to
+the boy, notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to him,
+it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of earl and
+baron, bishop and king.
+
+“If the King does not mend his ways,” said one of the knights, “we will
+drive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the sea.”
+
+“De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all of
+us, both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formed
+a pact for our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that the
+time for temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil war
+upon his hands, he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead of
+breaking them the moment De Montfort's back be turned.”
+
+“He fears his brother-in-law,” interrupted another of the knights, “even
+more than the devil fears holy water. I was in attendance on his majesty
+some weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the royal barge.
+We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have ever seen, of
+which the King was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land at
+the Bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then were. De Montfort,
+who was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all due respect,
+observing, 'What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed?' And
+what thinkest thou old 'waxen heart' replied? Why, still trembling, he
+said, 'I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but, by the hand of
+God, I tremble before you more than for all the thunder in Heaven!'”
+
+“I surmise,” interjected the grim, old man, “that De Montfort has in
+some manner gained an ascendancy over the King. Think you he looks so
+high as the throne itself?”
+
+“Not so,” cried the oldest of the knights. “Simon de Montfort works for
+England's weal alone--and methinks, nay knowest, that he would be first
+to spring to arms to save the throne for Henry. He but fights the King's
+rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to defy the
+King himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter collapse.
+But, gad, how the King hates him. For a time it seemed that there might
+be a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the disappearance
+of the little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of his time and
+private fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for the
+little fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond. This self-sacrificing
+interest on his part won over the King and Queen for many years, but of
+late his unremitting hostility to their continued extravagant waste of
+the national resources has again hardened them toward him.”
+
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened,
+sent the youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left to
+prepare supper.
+
+As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the boy
+intently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome face,
+clear, intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a mass
+of brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears,
+where it was again cut square at the sides and back, after the fashion
+of the times.
+
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red,
+over which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was also
+of leather, a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin. His
+long hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer of skin,
+were of the same red wool as his tunic, while his strong leather sandals
+were cross-gartered halfway to his knees with narrow bands of leather.
+
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a
+round skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon's
+wing, completed his picturesque and becoming costume.
+
+“Your son?” he asked, turning to the old man.
+
+“Yes,” was the growling response.
+
+“He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French
+accent.
+
+“'S blood, Beauchamp,” he continued, turning to one of his companions,
+“an' were he set down in court, I wager our gracious Queen would he hard
+put to it to tell him from the young Prince Edward. Dids't ever see so
+strange a likeness?”
+
+“Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed a
+marvel,” answered Beauchamp.
+
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would have
+seen a blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage.
+
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a
+grave quiet tone.
+
+“And how old might you be, my son?” he asked the boy.
+
+“I do not know.”
+
+“And your name?”
+
+“I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son and
+no other ever before addressed me.”
+
+At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he would
+fetch more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he had
+passed the doorway and listened from without.
+
+“The lad appears about fifteen,” said Paul of Merely, lowering his
+voice, “and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives.
+This one does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like
+Prince Edward to be his twin.”
+
+“Come, my son,” he continued aloud, “open your jerkin and let us have a
+look at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there.”
+
+“Are you Englishmen?” asked the boy without making a move to comply with
+their demand.
+
+“That we be, my son,” said Beauchamp.
+
+“Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all Englishmen
+are pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France. I do not
+uncover my body to the eyes of swine.”
+
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally
+burst into uproarious laughter.
+
+“Indeed,” cried Paul of Merely, “spoken as one of the King's foreign
+favorites might speak, and they ever told the good God's truth. But come
+lad, we would not harm you--do as I bid.”
+
+“No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side,” answered
+the boy, “and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man other
+than my father.”
+
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul of
+Merely, but the latter's face hardened in anger, and without further
+words he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy's
+leathern jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick
+sharp, “En garde!” from the boy.
+
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, in
+self-defense, for the sharp point of the boy's sword was flashing in and
+out against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs,
+and the boy's tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as it
+invited him to draw and defend himself or be stuck “like the English pig
+you are.”
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing
+against this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm him
+without harming the lad, and he certainly did not care to be further
+humiliated before his comrades.
+
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he discovered
+that, far from disarming him, he would have the devil's own job of it to
+keep from being killed.
+
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and
+dexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room,
+great beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he
+realized that he was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman.
+
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grim
+smiles, and presently they looked on with startled faces in which fear
+and apprehension were dominant.
+
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse. No sign of
+exertion was apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder than
+words that he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paul
+of Merely always retreating. The din of their clashing swords and the
+heavy breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as they
+brushed against a bench or a table.
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of dying
+uselessly at the hands of a mere boy. He would not call upon his friends
+for aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between them
+with drawn sword, crying “Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have no
+quarrel. Sheathe your swords.”
+
+But the boy's only response was, “En garde, cochon,” and Beauchamp found
+himself taking the center of the stage in the place of his friend. Nor
+did the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in swordplay
+that caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their sockets.
+
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of
+gleaming light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile
+had frozen upon his lips--grim and stern.
+
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places when
+Greystoke rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry, gray
+man leaped agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword took
+his place beside the boy. It was now two against three and the three may
+have guessed, though they never knew, that they were pitted against the
+two greatest swordsmen in the world.
+
+“To the death,” cried the little gray man, “a mort, mon fils.” Scarcely
+had the words left his lips ere, as though it had but waited permission,
+the boy's sword flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely, and a Saxon
+gentleman was gathered to his fathers.
+
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undivided
+attention to Beauchamp. Both these men were considered excellent
+swordsmen, but when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man's “a mort,
+mon fils,” he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his neck
+rose up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the sentence
+of death passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could vanquish
+such a swordsman as he who now faced him.
+
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man
+led Greystoke to where the boy awaited him.
+
+“They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of
+revenge; a mort, mon fils.”
+
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the lad
+as a great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back not
+an inch and, when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steel
+protruding from his back.
+
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the
+back of the ruined castle. First they had stripped them and, when they
+took account of the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richer
+by three horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold and silver
+money, ornaments and jewels, as well as the lances, swords and chain
+mail armor of their erstwhile guests.
+
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that the
+knowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and Prince
+Edward of England had come to him in time to prevent the undoing of his
+life's work.
+
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the old
+man had little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to
+him, obliterating the devices so that none might guess to whom it had
+belonged. This he did, and from then on the boy never rode abroad except
+in armor, and when he met others upon the high road, his visor was
+always lowered that none might see his face.
+
+The day following the episode of the three knights the old man called
+the boy to him, saying,
+
+“It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions as
+were put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry. Thou art fifteen years
+of age, and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle of
+Torn, thou mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou art
+Norman of Torn; that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchased
+Torn and brought thee hither from France on the death of thy mother,
+when thou wert six years old.
+
+“But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman is
+the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit.”
+
+And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short years
+was to strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in the
+vicinity of Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in
+the handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a period
+was allotted to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned
+sixteen, even the old man himself was as but a novice by comparison with
+the marvelous skill of his pupil.
+
+During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions
+until he knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn.
+Sometimes the old man accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+
+On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small
+hamlet not far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determined
+to enter and have speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural
+desire for companionship was commencing to assert itself. In all his
+life, he remembered only the company of the old man, who never spoke
+except when necessity required.
+
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushed
+in, without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up with
+an expression of annoyance and disapproval.
+
+“What now,” he said, “have the King's men respect neither for piety nor
+age that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so much
+as a 'by your leave'?”
+
+“I am no king's man,” replied the boy quietly, “I am Norman of Torn, who
+has neither a king nor a god, and who says 'by your leave' to no man.
+But I have come in peace because I wish to talk to another than my
+father. Therefore you may talk to me, priest,” he concluded with haughty
+peremptoriness.
+
+“By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me with
+his commands,” laughed the priest. “Raise your visor, My Lord, I
+would fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands of
+royalty.”
+
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round jovial
+face. There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort, and so,
+smiling, the boy raised his visor.
+
+“By the ear of Gabriel,” cried the good father, “a child in armor!”
+
+“A child in years, mayhap,” replied the boy, “but a good child to own as
+a friend, if one has enemies who wear swords.”
+
+“Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have few
+enemies, no man has too many friends, and I like your face and your
+manner, though there be much to wish for in your manners. Sit down and
+eat with me, and I will talk to your heart's content, for be there one
+other thing I more love than eating, it is talking.”
+
+With the priest's aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavy
+and uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that was
+already partially on the board.
+
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good
+priest. Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend,
+Father Claude. It was he who taught the boy to read and write in French,
+English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could sign their
+own names.
+
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher
+classes of society, and all public documents were inscribed either in
+French or Latin, although about this time the first proclamation written
+in the English tongue was issued by an English king to his subjects.
+
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to espouse
+the cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe that the
+principal reason for man's existence was to protect woman. All of virtue
+and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected to
+inculcate in the boy's mind, the good priest planted there, but he could
+not eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that
+the real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with a
+sword.
+
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy's earlier visits to his
+new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring to
+bear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the
+boy's, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good father owed a
+great deal, possibly his life.
+
+As they were seated in the priest's hut one afternoon, a rough knock
+fell upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as
+disreputable a band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man. Six
+of them there were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords and
+daggers at their sides.
+
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair
+and a red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard.
+Behind him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache;
+while the third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and
+forehead and from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye, for
+that socket was empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered the
+inflamed red of the hollow where his eye had been.
+
+“A ha, my hearties,” roared the leader, turning to his motley crew,
+“fine pickings here indeed. A swine of God fattened upon the sweat of
+such poor, honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks,
+must have pieces of gold in his belt.
+
+“Say your prayers, my pigeons,” he continued, with a vile oath, “for The
+Black Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a halter
+later, and dead men talk the least.”
+
+“If it be The Black Wolf,” whispered Father Claude to the boy, “no worse
+fate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and when drunk,
+as he now is, he murders his victims. I will throw myself before them
+while you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make good
+your escape.” He spoke in French, and held his hands in the attitude of
+prayer, so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no idea
+that he was communicating with the boy.
+
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of the
+old priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:
+
+“The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he
+runs out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at the
+front door.”
+
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+
+“I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friend
+here, nor neither do I care. It is sufficient that he is the friend of
+Norman of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledge
+the debt of friendship. Have at you, sir knights of the great filth and
+the mighty stink!” and with drawn sword he vaulted over the table and
+fell upon the surprised leader.
+
+In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercely
+did his blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment,
+The Black Wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, was
+badly, though not fatally wounded. The four remaining ruffians backed
+quickly from the hut, and a more cautious fighter would have let them
+go their way in peace, for in the open, four against one are odds no man
+may pit himself against with impunity. But Norman of Torn saw red when
+he fought and the red lured him ever on into the thickest of the fray.
+Only once before had he fought to the death, but that once had taught
+him the love of it, and ever after until his death, it marked his manner
+of fighting; so that men who loathed and hated and feared him were as
+one with those who loved him in acknowledging that never before had God
+joined in the human frame absolute supremacy with the sword and such
+utter fearlessness.
+
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, he
+rushed out after the four knaves. Once in the open, they turned upon
+him, but he sprang into their midst with his seething blade, and it was
+as though they faced four men rather than one, so quickly did he parry
+a thrust here and return a cut there. In a moment one was disarmed,
+another down, and the remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the
+high road with Norman of Torn close at their heels.
+
+Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running as
+well as in swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both had
+thrown away their swords and were on their knees pleading for their
+lives.
+
+“Come back to the good priest's hut, and we shall see what he may say,”
+ replied Norman of Torn.
+
+On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending over
+his wounded comrade. They were brothers, named Flory, and one would not
+desert the other. It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger,
+so Norman of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut, where
+they found Red Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the good
+father poured the contents of a flagon down his eager throat.
+
+The villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four
+comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room.
+
+“The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory,
+One Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!” he ejaculated.
+
+“Man or devil! By the Pope's hind leg, who and what be ye?” he said,
+turning to Norman of Torn.
+
+“I be your master and ye be my men,” said Norman of Torn. “Me ye shall
+serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but with
+fighting a-plenty and good reward.”
+
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon the
+clergy had given rise to an idea in the boy's mind, which had been
+revolving in a nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his
+subconsciousness since his vanquishing of the three knights had brought
+him, so easily, such riches in the form of horses, arms, armor and gold.
+As was always his wont in his after life, to think was to act.
+
+“With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with red
+hot tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of a
+chief,” spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, “for verily any man, be he
+but a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command us.”
+
+“But what be the duties?” said he whom they called Peter the Hermit.
+
+“To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and the
+weak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon rich
+Englishmen and harass the King of England.”
+
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the ruffians
+so strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even daily
+mass, and a bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the service
+of Norman of Torn.
+
+“Aye, aye!” they cried. “We be your men, indeed.”
+
+“Wait,” said Norman of Torn, “there is more. You are to obey my every
+command on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are to
+be mine. On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mounts
+and armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for and with
+you with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector. Are you
+satisfied?”
+
+“That we are,” and “Long live Norman of Torn,” and “Here's to the chief
+of the Torns” signified the ready assent of the burly cut-throats.
+
+“Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token,” pursued
+Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest's table.
+
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few years
+to number a thousand men, and which defied a king's army and helped to
+make Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+
+Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon neighboring
+barons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be caught in
+the open by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn with
+many pieces of gold and silver, and placed a price upon his head ere he
+had scarce turned eighteen.
+
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts,
+he grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger's point upon the foreheads
+of those who fell before his own sword the initials NT.
+
+As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grim
+Castle of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnished
+the moat with water in bygone days.
+
+Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed
+his activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly and
+oppressed. The money he took from the King's tax gatherers, he returned
+to the miserable peasants of the district, and once when Henry III sent
+a little expedition against him, he surrounded and captured the entire
+force, and, stripping them, gave their clothing to the poor, and
+escorted them, naked, back to the very gates of London.
+
+By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself had
+dubbed him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though no
+man had seen his face and lived other than his friends and followers.
+He had become a power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel
+between King Henry and his foreign favorites on one side, and the Saxon
+and Norman barons on the other.
+
+Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman of
+Torn had preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent. Personally,
+he had decided to join neither party, but to take advantage of the
+turmoil of the times to prey without partiality upon both.
+
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy,
+ragged cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the old
+man of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small towers
+of the barbican.
+
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung at
+his side in mimicry of the custom of the times.
+
+“What ho, without there!” challenged the old man entering grimly into
+the spirit of the play.
+
+“'Tis Sir Norman of Torn,” spoke up Red Shandy, “with his great host
+of noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and sumpter
+beasts. Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn.”
+
+“What means this, my son?” said the old man as Norman of Torn dismounted
+within the ballium.
+
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, “These,
+then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon the
+highways and into the byways of England, to collect from the rich
+English pigs that living which you have ever taught me was owing us.”
+
+“'Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together we
+shall ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way.
+
+“From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow in
+the land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and shall
+hate and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe him.
+
+“All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall
+never dry upon your blade.”
+
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after
+this outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin,
+said:
+
+“By the Pope's hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English.
+There should be great riding after such as he.”
+
+“Ye ride after ME, varlet,” cried Norman of Torn, “an' lest ye should
+forget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a reminder,” and
+he struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist--so
+that the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a towering
+rage. As he rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter made
+no move to draw; he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold,
+level gaze; his head held high, haughty face marked by an arrogant sneer
+of contempt.
+
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smile
+overspread his countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand of
+Norman of Torn and kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight might
+have kissed his king's hand in proof of his love and fealty. There was
+a certain rude, though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it marked
+not only the beginning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of
+Shandy toward his young master, but was prophetic of the attitude which
+Norman of Torn was to inspire in all the men who served him during the
+long years that saw thousands pass the barbicans of Torn to crave a
+position beneath his grim banner.
+
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One Eye
+Kanty, and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed
+his hand. From the Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man had
+watched this scene, a slight smile upon his old, malicious face.
+
+“'Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams,” he muttered. “'S death,
+but he be more a king than Henry himself. God speed the day of his
+coronation, when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a black
+cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet the
+platform of a wooden gibbet for a throne.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rode
+alone down the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which he
+had replaced the hut of his old friend, Father Claude.
+
+As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his
+person or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank
+or house. More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he was
+without rank or other title than that of outlaw and he seemed to assume
+what in reality he held in little esteem.
+
+He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and not
+because he craved the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause,
+he rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon
+the old man to explain the reason which necessitated this precaution.
+
+“It is enough that I tell you, my son,” the old fellow was wont to say,
+“that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face to
+your enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I hope,
+when you shall uncover your countenance to all England.”
+
+The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it off
+as the foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
+
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a very
+different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before,
+when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of
+the night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whose
+metamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent to
+the castle had marked.
+
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than ever
+in the most resplendent days of its past grandeur. The original keep was
+there with its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen foot
+walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted chambers, lighted by
+embrasures which, mere slits in the outer periphery of the walls, spread
+to larger dimensions within, some even attaining the area of small
+triangular chambers.
+
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the
+castle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at
+intervals with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire
+from long bows, cross bows and javelins might be directed against a
+scaling party.
+
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice, which
+natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
+
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran
+the tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the
+valley below. The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged
+beauty. A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparsely
+studded with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view of
+broad and lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling tributary of
+the Trent.
+
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the north
+wall and one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified with
+towered and buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main
+gates could be reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner
+gates were similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which,
+spanning the moat when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of an
+enemy, effectually stopping his advance.
+
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the
+direction of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father,
+were of the Norman type of architecture, the windows were larger, the
+carving more elaborate, the rooms lighter and more spacious.
+
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten
+hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires, lackeys,
+cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to
+care for the wants of his little army.
+
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were
+quartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive with
+cows, oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors to
+the grim pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the neighboring
+farm lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid good
+gold for their crops.
+
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons who
+owned the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or
+give a pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of
+death, but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly and
+always returned full laden, and though the husbandmen told sad tales
+to their overlords of the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he
+seized upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their cheeks as
+they spoke and the Devil's gold in their pockets.
+
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants'
+love for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, their
+stock, their crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestation
+even though the neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked from
+the wine cellar to the ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor did anyone
+dare ride rough shod over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled.
+A dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Derby hills, and
+though the barons would much rather have had all the rest than he, the
+peasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the lowborn murderers who
+had been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose account the
+women of the huts and cottages had never been safe.
+
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but
+they loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him
+to their ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and the
+meadow and the chase, for though they were confessed Christians, still
+in the hearts of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions of
+their ancestors; and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to
+Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the safe side with the
+others, in case they did happen to exist.
+
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, they
+were; accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader and
+then another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of
+their feudal lords and their rapacious monarchs.
+
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for
+since their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors,
+to England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them from
+oppression.
+
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and
+the grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter was
+for carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young man
+would neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to
+molest the lowly. A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wild
+horde than a stout lance or an emblazoned shield.
+
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father
+Claude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from
+the copper boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen
+kneeling uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkable
+after all.
+
+Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay
+back moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong,
+lithe legs stretched out before him.
+
+“What ails you, my son?” asked the priest, “that you look so
+disconsolate on this beautiful day?”
+
+“I do not know, Father,” replied Norman of Torn, “unless it be that I
+am asking myself the question, 'What it is all for?' Why did my father
+train me ever to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there is
+plenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolen
+wealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it? Should
+I stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held by
+a hempen necklace.
+
+“What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry? They have quarrel
+enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should
+have hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they
+really are. So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an old
+man's spite, not even knowing the grievance to the avenging of which my
+life has been dedicated by another.
+
+“And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the
+nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and
+never in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt
+a caress, even as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?”
+
+“I have thought much of it, my son,” answered the priest. “It has ever
+been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held
+for years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder
+to speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman of
+Torn, if you are not the son of the old man you call father, may God
+forfend that England ever guesses your true parentage. More than this, I
+dare not say except that, as you value your peace of mind and your life,
+keep your visor down and keep out of the clutches of your enemies.”
+
+“Then you know why I should keep my visor down?”
+
+“I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you
+resemble.”
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the sound
+of horses' hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an instant,
+both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the highroad,
+five knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party of
+ten or a dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching breathless on
+her palfry, a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants.
+
+Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rode
+to her side with some word of command, at the same time grasping
+roughly at her bridle rein. The girl raised her riding whip and struck
+repeatedly but futilely against the iron headgear of her assailant while
+he swung his horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after him,
+galloped rapidly out of sight.
+
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored
+condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back and spurred swiftly in the
+direction taken by the girl and her abductor.
+
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor
+of his rider, soon brought the fugitives to view. Scarce a mile had been
+covered ere the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of
+Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
+
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knight
+reined in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, “Mon Dieu, Edward!”
+
+“Draw and defend yourself,” cried Norman of Torn.
+
+“But, Your Highness,” stammered the knight.
+
+“Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs,”
+ cried Norman of Torn.
+
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the
+rider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck
+the other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the
+dust of the roadway.
+
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair
+battle upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor,
+the knight also had the advantage of its protection, so that the
+two fought furiously for several minutes without either gaining an
+advantage.
+
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching
+every move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, but
+seemed riveted to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she
+was beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the handsome
+giant who had espoused her cause. As she looked upon her champion, she
+saw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect
+figure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean,
+athletic life of the trained fighting man.
+
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the sword
+arm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played with
+the sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so futilely
+before him. For all the din of clashing blades and rattling armor,
+neither of the contestants had inflicted much damage, for the knight
+could neither force nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard of
+his unarmored foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in penetrating
+the other's armor.
+
+Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade
+through the meshes of his adversary's mail, and the fellow, with a cry
+of anguish, sank limply to the ground.
+
+“Quick, Sir Knight!” cried the girl. “Mount and flee; yonder come his
+fellows.”
+
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he
+had just come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode three
+steel-armored men on their mighty horses.
+
+“Ride, madam,” cried Norman of Torn, “for fly I shall not, nor may I,
+alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay these
+three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape.
+Their heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your fleet palfrey.”
+
+As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. That
+she was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of
+her riding apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her
+noble and haughty demeanor and the proud expression of her beautiful
+face.
+
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of
+Norman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of
+women, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position. No
+woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, ever
+known a mother.
+
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward
+men, except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in a
+way, he looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn
+looked up to anything: God, man or devil--it being more his way to look
+down upon all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined to
+alter the entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was
+beautiful, and that she was of that class against whom he had preyed for
+years with his band of outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more to
+face her enemies with the strange inconsistency which had ever marked
+his methods.
+
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father's castle, but
+today he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her--had she
+been the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less. It
+was enough that she was a woman and in need of protection.
+
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for
+fair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But as
+the leading knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried out in
+surprise and consternation:
+
+“Mon Dieu, le Prince!” He wheeled his charging horse to one side. His
+fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them
+dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they had
+been keen to attack.
+
+“One would think they had met the devil,” muttered Norman of Torn,
+looking after them in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+“What means it, lady?” he asked turning to the damsel, who had made no
+move to escape.
+
+“It means that your face is well known in your father's realm, my Lord
+Prince,” she replied. “And the King's men have no desire to antagonize
+you, even though they may understand as little as I why you should
+espouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort.”
+
+“Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?” he asked.
+
+“An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord?”
+
+“I am not the Prince,” said Norman of Torn. “It is said that Edward is
+in France.”
+
+“Right you are, sir,” exclaimed the girl. “I had not thought on that;
+but you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the Queen
+herself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king's son. Who are you
+then, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade,
+daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?”
+
+“Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King Henry?” queried Norman of
+Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
+
+“That I be,” replied the girl, “an' from your face I take it you have
+little love for a De Montfort,” she added, smiling.
+
+“An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you niece
+or daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war
+against women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety.”
+
+“I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father's knights, to
+visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby.”
+
+“I know the castle well,” answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow of
+a grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed
+since he had reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great
+baron. “Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you
+shall sup with your friend before dark.”
+
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their steps
+down the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where it
+had fallen.
+
+“Ride on,” he called to Bertrade de Montfort, “I will join you in an
+instant.”
+
+Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and
+lifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the point
+of his dagger the letters NT.
+
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her
+and he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act.
+Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he
+did, her heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled in
+terror from the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark she
+had seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights and
+kinsmen.
+
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here
+Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more with
+lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de
+Montfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited
+his interest.
+
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a
+young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had
+often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and
+terrible attacks. While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of
+women captives, there was no truth in them. They were merely spread by
+his enemies to incite the people against him. Never had Norman of Torn
+laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath
+to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
+
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something
+stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years.
+It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for
+companionship of such as she, and such as she represented. Norman of
+Torn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did not
+know, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it,
+mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for
+other lions, but for his lioness.
+
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
+
+“You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?”
+
+“I am Nor--” and then he stopped. Always before he had answered that
+question with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought. Was it
+because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of
+this daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fear
+to face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in
+that lovely face?
+
+“I am from Normandy,” he went on quietly. “A gentleman of France.”
+
+“But your name?” she said peremptorily. “Are you ashamed of your name?”
+
+“You may call me Roger,” he answered. “Roger de Conde.”
+
+“Raise your visor, Roger de Conde,” she commanded. “I do not take
+pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man
+within.”
+
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as
+he rarely did, he was good to look upon.
+
+“It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade
+de Montfort,” he said.
+
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and
+health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as
+they might have been friends of long standing.
+
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day,
+attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of
+Colfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily
+and roughly denied by her father.
+
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that
+the old reprobate who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavory
+truths from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by his
+rude and discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
+
+“This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to,” growled Norman of Torn. “And,
+as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for the
+asking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort.”
+
+“Very well,” she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much
+indulged in in those days. “You may bring me his head upon a golden
+dish, Roger de Conde.”
+
+“And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his
+princess the head of her enemy?” he asked lightly.
+
+“What boon would the knight ask?”
+
+“That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever
+calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and
+believe in his honor and his loyalty.”
+
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell
+her that this was more than play.
+
+“It shall be as you say, Sir Knight,” she replied. “And the boon once
+granted shall be always kept.”
+
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided
+that he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any
+other thing he knew of. And wishing it, he determined to win it by any
+means that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many
+respects was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
+
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and
+there, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the
+Baron's hospitality overnight.
+
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when
+added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he
+made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
+
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire
+household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences
+of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore
+his sword arm in a sling.
+
+“We have been through grievous times,” said Sir John, noticing that his
+guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. “That fiend,
+Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us for
+ten days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is no
+longer safe in England with the King spending his time and money with
+foreign favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his own
+barons, instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the right
+of every Englishman at home.
+
+“But,” he continued, “this outlaw devil will come to the end of a short
+halter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons themselves
+have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not subdue
+him.”
+
+“An' he may send the barons naked home as he did the King's soldiers,”
+ laughed Bertrade de Montfort. “I should like to see this fellow; what
+may he look like--from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many of
+your men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him.”
+
+“Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us,” replied the
+Baron, “but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him
+and that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and
+having one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his
+chin.”
+
+“A fearful apparition,” murmured Norman of Torn. “No wonder he keeps his
+helm closed.”
+
+“But such a swordsman,” spoke up a son of De Stutevill. “Never in all
+the world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard.”
+
+“I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay,” said Bertrade de Montfort,
+“and that today. O he!” she cried, laughing gleefully, “verily do I
+believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight,
+who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er saw man fight
+before, and he rode with his visor down until I chide him for it.”
+
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company
+he most enjoyed the joke.
+
+“An' speaking of the Devil,” said the Baron, “how think you he will side
+should the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his thousand
+hell-hounds, the fate of England might well be in the palm of his bloody
+hand.”
+
+“He loves neither King nor baron,” spoke Mary de Stutevill, “and I
+rather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather
+plunder the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be
+absent at war.”
+
+“It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcome
+him,” said De Stutevill, ruthfully. “But yet I am always in fear for the
+safety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time.
+May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn.”
+
+“I think you may have no need of fear on that score,” spoke Mary, “for
+Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of
+Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was the
+great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailed
+hand as to crack the ruffian's helm, saying at the time, 'Know you,
+fellow, Norman of Torn does not war upon women?'”
+
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn
+heard no more of himself during that evening.
+
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and
+then, on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an
+embrasure of the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of
+the necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to remain.
+
+“To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort,” he said boldly, “I would forego
+any other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, but
+there are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away
+from you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father,
+Simon de Montfort, in Leicester. Provided,” he added, “that you will
+welcome me there.”
+
+“I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde,” replied
+the girl.
+
+“Remember that promise,” he said smiling. “Some day you may be glad to
+repudiate it.”
+
+“Never,” she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said it
+would have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women than
+was Norman of Torn.
+
+“I hope not,” he said gravely. “I cannot tell you, being but poorly
+trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you
+might know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade de
+Montfort,” and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his
+lips.
+
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few
+minutes later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at
+the castle and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a
+young woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden
+impulse, threw a kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear from
+the embrasure with the act.
+
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, he
+had much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he realized
+what might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of
+bitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whose
+teachings from the boy's earliest childhood had guided him in the ways
+that had cut him off completely from the society of other men, except
+the wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneath
+the grisly banner of the young chief of Torn.
+
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl
+who had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel
+shame for his past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so he
+could not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his
+strange likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with the
+words of Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was it a
+heinous offence to own an accidental likeness to a king's son?
+
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with
+closed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face
+from the sight of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from
+some inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father
+Claude dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. The
+austere stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory
+reputation, always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest;
+not alone because of the deep friendship which the master of Torn felt
+for the good father, but through the personal charm, and lovableness of
+the holy man's nature, which shone alike on saint and sinner.
+
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman,
+during the period that the boy's character was most amenable to strong
+impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respects
+pure and lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won for Father
+Claude his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose
+sole aim in life seemed to have been to smother every finer instinct of
+chivalry and manhood in the boy, to whose training he had devoted the
+past nineteen years of his life.
+
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey--fat people do not
+“dismount”--a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and to
+lead the animal to the stables.
+
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a
+question here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity
+that bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance.
+
+As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him
+laughing, though respectful, welcomes and within the great court,
+beautified with smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues
+and small shrubs and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now the
+principal lieutenant of Norman of Torn.
+
+“Good morrow, Saint Claude!” cried the burly ruffian. “Hast come to save
+our souls, or damn us? What manner of sacrilege have we committed now,
+or have we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come to scold, or
+praise?”
+
+“Neither, thou unregenerate villain,” cried the priest, laughing.
+“Though methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with
+which thou didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week.”
+
+“Tut, tut, Father,” replied Red Shandy. “We did but aid him to adhere
+more closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and
+disciple he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of His
+Church to walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be ever
+surrounded with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold,
+to say nothing of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine?”
+
+“I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of
+wine as may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had
+finished with him,” exclaimed Father Claude.
+
+“Yes, Father,” laughed the great fellow, “for the sake of Holy Church, I
+did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must needs
+have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and you
+shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwich
+displays in the selection of his temptations.”
+
+“They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
+Shandy,” continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
+outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
+
+“One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the
+sun was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that
+single article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays of
+old sol. Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandals
+of the road, he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so
+that it could not be removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strapped
+face to tail upon a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattling
+down the dusty road with his head, at least, protected from the idle
+gaze of whomsoever he might chance to meet. Forty stripes he gave to
+each of the Bishop's retinue for being abroad in bad company; but come,
+here we are where you shall have the wine as proof of my tale.”
+
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary, the little old man of
+Torn entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if
+he knew aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+
+“We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in
+the direction of your cottage,” he concluded.
+
+“Why, yes,” said the priest, “I saw him that day. He had an adventure
+with several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he
+rescued a damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be
+of the house of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son did
+not say whither or for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned his
+armor, while the girl waited without, was that I should now behold the
+falcon guarding the dove. Hast he not returned?”
+
+“No,” said the old man, “and doubtless his adventure is of a nature
+in line with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed my
+training, without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an
+iron-barred nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English
+nobility. An' thou leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service
+in the household of the King.”
+
+“Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here,” said the priest
+quietly.
+
+“Why say you that?” snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claude
+narrowly.
+
+“Oh,” laughed the priest, “because he whose power and mien be even more
+kingly than the King's would rightly grace the royal palace,” but he had
+not failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did his
+off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+
+At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy's presence was
+required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful
+glance at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
+
+For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was
+presently broken by the old man of Torn.
+
+“Priest,” he said, “thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to my
+liking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious
+time from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what benefit
+may a knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him. It
+may be years and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be a
+devil in hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet. And thou
+knowst it, and he too, as well as I. The things which thou hast taught
+him be above his station, and the hopes and ambitions they inspire will
+but make his end the bitterer for him. Of late I have noted that he
+rides upon the highway with less enthusiasm than was his wont, but he
+has gone too far ever to go back now; nor is there where to go back to.
+What has he ever been other than outcast and outlaw? What hopes could
+you have engendered in his breast greater than to be hated and feared
+among his blood enemies?”
+
+“I knowst not thy reasons, old man,” replied the priest, “for devoting
+thy life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare
+not voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For all
+thou dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature,
+I have done and shall continue to do all in my power to controvert. As
+thou hast been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and
+when all is said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the King's
+gibbet, as I only too well fear he must, there will be more to mourn his
+loss than there be to curse him.
+
+“His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the
+friends and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more
+greatly to his honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+
+“Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his
+honor when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be
+forgotten in the greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
+
+“Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel
+and degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlaw
+of Torn, it will be thou--I had almost said, unnatural father; but I do
+not believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of him
+thou callest son.”
+
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment,
+his face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and
+rage, but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+
+“Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear,” he said bitterly,
+“but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past there has
+been peace between us, though no love; now let us both understand
+that it be war and hate. My life work is cut out for me. Others, like
+thyself, have stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they?
+Dost understand me, priest?” And the old man leaned far across the table
+so that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a few
+inches from those of the priest.
+
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+
+“I understand,” he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the
+door, which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of
+permission. Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of
+Torn, and his face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
+
+“Greetings, my son,” said the priest.
+
+“And to thee, Father,” replied the outlaw, “And what may be the news of
+Torn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the castle?”
+
+“All be well at the castle,” replied Father Claude, “if by that you mean
+have none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy, why
+wilt thou not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never been my
+way to scold or chide thee, yet always hath my heart ached for each
+crime laid at the door of Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Come, come, Father,” replied the outlaw, “what dost I that I have not
+good example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church. Murder,
+theft, rapine! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all
+perpetrated in the name of some of these?
+
+“Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous
+for the wolf to tear the sheep? Methinks not. Only do I collect from
+those who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they
+prey upon those who have naught.
+
+“Yet,” and his manner suddenly changed, “I do not love it, Father. That
+thou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but there is
+none.
+
+“If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can I
+myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of
+this life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those very
+enemies I have been taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, there
+can be but one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope.”
+
+“No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way,” replied the good
+Father. “In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for such
+as thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman
+of Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the
+highest of the land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do not
+raise your hand. You be all these and more, for you have learning far
+beyond the majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a true
+chivalry of character. With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar your
+way to the highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have no
+future beyond the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn?”
+
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across
+his eyes as though to brush away a vision.
+
+“There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
+least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring.”
+
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill
+was drawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had
+ridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome
+young knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her
+fairer friend.
+
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great
+court, their arms about each other's waists, pouring the last
+confidences into each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to
+return to Leicester.
+
+“Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade,” said Mary. “Wert my
+father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only the
+small escort which we be able to give.”
+
+“Fear not, Mary,” replied Bertrade. “Five of thy father's knights be
+ample protection for so short a journey. By evening it will have been
+accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such
+a sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will
+venture again to molest me.”
+
+“But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?” urged Mary. “Only
+yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping to
+us with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his
+master's household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naught
+more horrible than to fall into his hands.”
+
+“Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman
+of Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father's
+castle. How be it thou so soon has changed thy mind?”
+
+“Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what
+horrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond
+compare. Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's
+niece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred
+and his vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure
+my father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee
+instead of five.”
+
+“What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is on
+a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
+
+“If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five
+knights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a
+mouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shall
+start tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day with
+the best of word from me.”
+
+“If thou wilst, thou wilst,” cried Mary petulantly. “Indeed it were
+plain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be
+second only to their historic stubbornness.”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
+
+“Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad
+to protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of
+a truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere saw
+fight before.”
+
+“Methinks,” said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination to
+leave on the morrow, “that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all
+unarmed, that still would you send back my father's knights.”
+
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount
+to her cheek.
+
+“Thou be a fool, Mary,” she said.
+
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the
+discomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
+
+“Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but
+now I seest that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to look
+upon, but what knowest thou of him?”
+
+“Hush, Mary!” commanded Bertrade. “Thou know not what thou sayest. I
+would not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and
+then--it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no
+word hath he sent.”
+
+“Oh, ho,” cried the little plague, “so there lies the wind? My Lady
+would not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has sent
+her no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade.”
+
+“I will not talk with you, Mary,” cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaled
+foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward the
+castle.
+
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides
+of a little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout.
+His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner
+of his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby
+over his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his life
+and been given. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit
+of armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guest
+might be. It was the little armored man who was speaking.
+
+“Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter,” he said, “that
+you must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the
+passion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the
+maiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you.”
+
+“How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle?” asked
+Peter of Colfax.
+
+“That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, if
+thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we
+may take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow.”
+
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of
+Leicester's to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest--the
+fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method of
+obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
+
+“Come,” said the little, armored man irritably. “I cannot bide here
+forever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge,
+and if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and
+then not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more.”
+
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+
+“It is agreed,” he said. “The men shall ride out with you in half an
+hour. Wait below in the courtyard.”
+
+When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned his
+squire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
+
+“Guy,” said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, “ye made a rare fizzle
+of a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak?”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+“It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve
+thy blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in the
+courtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye
+lost to a handful of men before. You understand?”
+
+“Yes, My Lord!”
+
+“And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us.
+At the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay
+him. Tell the others that these be my orders.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?”
+
+“At once. You may go.”
+
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her
+father's castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary de
+Stutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting out
+upon such a dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de
+Montfort was firm.
+
+“Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly
+that even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. I
+shall have enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add even
+one more day to my excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and my
+father may be sore distressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I must
+ride today.” And so she did, with the five knights that could be spared
+from the castle's defence.
+
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so that
+they were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,
+wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and wind
+increased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in such
+blinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to
+the instincts of their mounts.
+
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were winding
+across a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest,
+into the somber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint of
+armor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the
+riders saw it not. On they came, their patient horses plodding slowly
+through the sticky road and hurtling storm.
+
+Now they were half way up the ridge's side. There was a movement in the
+dark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band
+of steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at full
+run down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before a
+blow could be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeled
+to meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for it
+took the entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slay
+the two.
+
+In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of her
+assailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs
+to her palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at a
+rapid pace in pursuit.
+
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de
+Montfort urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the
+arms of Peter of Colfax on the shields of several of the attacking
+party.
+
+Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beasts
+of her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tethered
+in their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying
+white steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies through
+the clouds.
+
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight,
+Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As it
+was, however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere,
+in the midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched across
+the roadway between two trees.
+
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,
+Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little,
+limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.
+
+There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount,
+so indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of
+Colfax, it was all the same to him. In either event, his purpose would
+be accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman of
+Torn from the path he had laid out for him.
+
+That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the
+Spaniard, the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose
+mean aid the little grim, gray man had purchased since many months to
+spy upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw.
+
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade de
+Montfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
+
+“Come,” said the man called Guy, “if there be life left in her, we must
+hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct.”
+
+“I leave ye here,” said the little old man. “My part of the business is
+done.”
+
+And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest
+toward the castle of Colfax.
+
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five
+knights of Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the other
+two, sorely but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and,
+with his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then,
+drawing his dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of
+the five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
+
+“And if one fact be not enough,” he muttered, “that mark upon the dead
+will quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of
+Torn and Leicester.”
+
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of a
+dozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their
+oldest son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+
+With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly
+along the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a white
+palfrey standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward the
+driving storm.
+
+“By God,” cried De Montfort, “tis my sister's own Abdul. There be
+something wrong here indeed.” But a rapid search of the vicinity, and
+loud calls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, so
+they pressed on toward Stutevill.
+
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found,
+they came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied
+Bertrade from Stutevill.
+
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men.
+The arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had
+been Bertrade's escort from Stutevill.
+
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, there
+stared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreaded
+sign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point.
+
+“The curse of God be on him!” cried De Montfort. “It be the work of the
+Devil of Torn, my gentlemen,” he said to his followers. “Come, we need
+no further guide to our destination.” And, remounting, the little party
+spurred back toward Torn.
+
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a
+strange room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless
+old woman, whose smile was but a fangless snarl.
+
+“Ho, ho!” she croaked. “The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it would
+take more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come,
+now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarce
+restrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in the
+great hall he paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous
+countenance.”
+
+“Who be ye?” cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from
+the effects of her fall. “Where am I?” and then, “O, Mon Dieu!” as she
+remembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon the
+shields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror of
+her predicament; its utter hopelessness.
+
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the
+King; and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause
+with Henry, for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she
+was the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
+
+In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet,
+and presently a man's voice at the door.
+
+“Within there, Coll! Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon?”
+
+“Yes, Sir Peter,” replied the old woman, “I was but just urging her to
+arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below.”
+
+“Haste then, My Lady Bertrade,” called the man, “no harm will be done
+thee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will await
+thee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here.”
+
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the
+tones of her answer were calm and level.
+
+“I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon,” and rising, she hastened to
+dress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down the
+stairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl
+would not talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible
+means of escape.
+
+A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter
+of Colfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in the
+apartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl's glance ranged the
+hall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windows
+beyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God's pure air
+outside these stifling walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black as the
+inky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shades
+less begrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell upon the
+trophies of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, for
+she knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by the
+personal prowess of the present master of Colfax.
+
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from
+a small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather to
+accentuate the dim shadows of the place.
+
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table,
+blackened by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented
+and nicked by the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when
+wild and lusty brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of some
+wandering minstrel, or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains for
+the oath of fealty.
+
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy
+chairs which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and
+she shuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor
+which was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with such
+bones and scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
+
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but
+passing heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly
+have the encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store for
+her.
+
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that
+in addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, where
+she had entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall.
+This was at one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it led
+into a small room, apparently a bedchamber.
+
+As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her
+and directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From the
+black mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closed
+the panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl.
+At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract
+her attention.
+
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his
+appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as
+she said:
+
+“What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery
+against thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece?”
+
+“When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent,” replied the
+pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, “love must still find
+its way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great
+father and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous
+Bertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after it
+since we didst first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I
+kneel to thee, my dove!” And with cracking joints the fat baron plumped
+down upon his marrow bones.
+
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into
+a sneering smile.
+
+“Thou art a fool, Sir Peter,” she said, “and, at that, the worst species
+of fool--an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I will
+have none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word of
+what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, 'tis all
+I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would
+have. I do not love you, nor ever can I.”
+
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already
+ruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise
+with dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact
+that his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours
+before he could rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow,
+raising his stern high in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gained
+his feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on
+her face.
+
+“Return to thy chamber,” he thundered. “I will give thee until tomorrow
+to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or
+take another position in his household which will bar thee for all time
+from the society of thy kind.”
+
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
+
+“I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,
+degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast
+not the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well
+ye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own
+hand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me,
+his daughter.” And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and
+mounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
+
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late the
+following afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before
+him once more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fears
+that she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire
+threat, and so she had again been casting about for some means of escape
+or delay.
+
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the
+castle, fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasure
+overlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.
+The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itself
+composed of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron.
+
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she could
+barricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate
+in the hope that succor might come from some source. But her most subtle
+wiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpy
+jailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herself
+for a lack of means to thwart her captor.
+
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the
+old woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
+
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the
+old woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl's
+body to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached
+quickly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quickly
+she sprang back from the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm,
+rushed upon her.
+
+“Back!” cried the girl. “Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel the
+length of thine own blade.”
+
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a most
+horrible manner, at the same time calling for help.
+
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where
+she was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into
+place. Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of
+Colfax, with a dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly upon
+the outside.
+
+“What's wrong within, Coll,” cried the Baron.
+
+“The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me,” shrieked
+the old woman.
+
+“An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax,” spoke Bertrade, “if you do
+not immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, for
+I will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own people
+stand without.”
+
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all in
+vain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle
+the Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner
+out.
+
+Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding
+her prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single
+second. All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it
+found her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
+
+Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade
+her to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct
+to her father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be
+fooled by his lying tongue.
+
+“Then will I starve you out,” he cried at length.
+
+“Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,”
+ replied the girl. “But thy old servant here will starve first, for she
+be very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you to
+kill two and still be robbed of thy prey?”
+
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would
+carry out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels,
+axes and saws upon the huge door.
+
+For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was
+late at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a
+hand and arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise the
+bars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thus
+the keen dagger in the girl's hand put an end to all hopes of entering
+without completely demolishing the door.
+
+To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter
+of Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had
+made. Bertrade replied but once.
+
+“Seest thou this poniard?” she asked. “When that door falls, this point
+enters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,
+to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable.”
+
+As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the
+first time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance
+from the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a
+tigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the
+wrist which held the dagger.
+
+“Quick, My Lord!” she shrieked, “the bolts, quick.”
+
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the
+door and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old
+woman.
+
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at the
+Baron's bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
+
+As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode
+back and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he
+stopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
+
+“Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?” he asked angrily.
+“I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of
+Colfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what
+be your answer now?”
+
+“The same as it has been these past two days,” she replied with haughty
+scorn. “The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife nor
+mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die,
+it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to
+touch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king,
+wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!”
+
+“Hold, chit!” cried the Baron, livid with rage. “You have gone too far.
+Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere
+the sun rises.” And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the
+arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his
+sojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with
+his wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a
+royalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fighting
+men; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of
+the barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their
+friends.
+
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of
+his expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a
+dozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn
+the mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible
+and unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen
+knights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of his
+great band of villains.
+
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,
+oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce
+and would have speech with the master of Torn.
+
+“Admit them, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn, “I will speak with them
+here.”
+
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it
+found itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
+
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the
+outlaw.
+
+“Be ye Norman of Torn?” he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatred
+and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
+
+“They call me so,” replied the visored knight. “And what may bring a De
+Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?”
+
+“Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn,” replied the young man.
+“It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you
+have us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid,
+only be quick and let me hence with my sister.”
+
+“What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean
+you?”
+
+“Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days
+since, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were
+fetching her home from a visit upon the Baron's daughter. We know that
+it was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark.”
+
+“Shandy!” roared Norman of Torn. “WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon the
+road, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge during
+my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the truth!”
+
+“Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served you
+well, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and that
+never have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor is
+it the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their
+dead that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves.”
+
+“Henry de Montfort,” said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, “we of
+Torn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say that
+we unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I give
+you the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?”
+
+“They say you never lie,” replied De Montfort. “Would to God I knew who
+had done this thing, or which way to search for my sister.”
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and
+it was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or
+his rage against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his
+whole being.
+
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed
+the drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and
+the noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+
+Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried their
+mailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman the
+Devil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the
+castle of Peter of Colfax.
+
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressed
+gates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
+
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient
+banded mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan.
+Gold and silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate
+and shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' head
+armor showed the rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman of
+Torn's wild raiders.
+
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the gray
+banner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of the
+five companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were covered
+with gray leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was the
+black falcon's wing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, being
+of dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstanding
+the richness of the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim,
+gray warlike appearance to these wild companies that comported well with
+their reputation.
+
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country of
+Europe, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf and
+noble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot,
+Pict and Irish.
+
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall
+marks of his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder to
+shoulder with the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisites
+for admission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and an
+oath to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.
+
+The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, each
+company captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
+
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first three
+companies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasoned
+veterans of a thousand fights.
+
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important
+post of chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five
+cut-throats whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before,
+in the hut of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle of
+Torn, which post included also the vital functions of quartermaster and
+commissary.
+
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in
+the art of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the
+companies, due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and their
+battles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they did not
+always come off unscathed, though usually victorious.
+
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at the
+head of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column.
+Above his gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest. It was
+the insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle.
+Where it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, and
+about it they were wont to rally.
+
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;
+nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
+
+At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: Red
+Shandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;
+and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
+
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early
+afternoon brought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave
+God-speed to them; but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn,
+where the black falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of its
+name than by the kindly deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of his
+neighborhood, they saw only closed and barred doors with an occasional
+frightened face peering from a tiny window.
+
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouetted
+against the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest
+a half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy
+and some fifty men to a point as close as they could come without being
+observed. Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthily
+forward alone.
+
+Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of
+the great gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shone
+dimly from the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was
+apparent. To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge
+lowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
+
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with
+its internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could
+reach a small antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
+
+And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of
+the little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood
+a strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girl
+saw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.
+
+“Draw!” commanded a low voice in English, “unless you prefer to pray,
+for you are about to die.”
+
+“Who be ye, varlet?” cried the Baron. “Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To the rescue,
+quick!” he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to back quickly
+toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon him
+and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
+
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John and
+Guy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.
+
+“Ware! Sir Knight,” cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushing
+to the aid of their master.
+
+Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon the
+terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the
+doorway bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions,
+and running quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threw
+the key with all her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instant
+she regretted her act, for she saw that where she might have reduced
+her rescuer's opponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardly
+Baron to remain, and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.
+
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and
+for an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition
+of swordsmanship she was witnessing.
+
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same
+time, the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced them
+steadily back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel about
+them. Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in the
+heart of one of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor,
+it was flashing again close to the breasts of the two remaining
+men-at-arms.
+
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl's
+attention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfax
+was moving--slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, toward
+the visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.
+
+For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a
+finger or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining
+control of her muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy
+foot-stool, hurled it full at Peter of Colfax.
+
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as the
+knight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
+
+As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported
+the only lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all was
+darkness. There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats
+and then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
+
+“Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?” asked a grave English voice
+out of the darkness.
+
+“Quite, Sir Knight,” she replied, “and you?”
+
+“Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?”
+
+“He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin long
+dagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon
+you.”
+
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the
+room. Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeble
+rays slowly penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of
+the three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visored
+knight; but Peter of Colfax was gone.
+
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed a
+low, grim laugh.
+
+“He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade,” he said.
+
+“How know you my name?” she asked. “Who may you be? I do not recognize
+your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms.”
+
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled
+with the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde
+who had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short
+weeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and
+there was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger
+de Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it
+was true, with a slight French accent.
+
+“My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn,” said the visored knight with
+quiet dignity.
+
+The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. For
+years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred
+against her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by the
+vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had
+come to whisper the name with grim, set lips.
+
+“Norman of Torn!” she whispered. “May God have mercy on my soul!”
+
+Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across
+the countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of
+hopelessness, shook his giant frame.
+
+“You need not fear, My Lady,” he said sadly. “You shall be in your
+father's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be
+safer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own
+mighty father, or your royal uncle.”
+
+“It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn,” spoke the girl, “and I
+believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort.”
+
+“It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
+Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me to
+do as I do, that is all. Come.”
+
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered
+drawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in
+answer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it
+was he.
+
+“Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,
+alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy,
+when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,
+Shandy.”
+
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been
+a weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object
+of his many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern
+and signing him to listen, said:
+
+“Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for
+the love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague
+generality. Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade
+de Montfort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy,
+from tower to scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord,” answered Shandy, and departed with his little
+detachment.
+
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of
+Colfax.
+
+“He has flown, My Lord,” the big fellow reported, and indeed it was
+true. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle
+and, by a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some
+priests without the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he was
+several miles on his way to the coast and France; for he had recognized
+the swordsmanship of the outlaw, and did not care to remain in England
+and face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.
+
+“He will return,” was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fully
+convinced that the Baron had escaped.
+
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places,
+the prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully
+expecting a summary and horrible death.
+
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now
+save the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the
+warriors filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de
+Montfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed
+and free.
+
+As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames
+that sprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smoke
+rolled southward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear away
+from the burning castle for an instant to show the black walls pierced
+by their hundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the raging
+fire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common
+in those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than a
+passing backward glance.
+
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended
+their slow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was both
+elated and sad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girl
+who awakened such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a
+loathesome thing in her eyes. But that it was pure happiness just to be
+near her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow, what use to think!
+The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did not
+dare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfort
+to Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlaw
+swore quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ride
+without either fighting or loot.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe her
+life and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especial
+hatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house of
+Plantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken
+for so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might lie
+beneath that barred visor.
+
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle's
+cantel and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air
+was chilly, and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad
+place in the road, lest the beast might slip and fall.
+
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond
+that, no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about
+midday within sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of
+so large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailing
+distance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting
+men.
+
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the
+castle walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
+
+“Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?”
+
+“It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De
+Montfort,” replied Shandy. “He would enter with one companion, my Lord
+Earl.”
+
+“Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort--thinks he
+that I keep a robbers' roost!” cried the fierce old warrior.
+
+“Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England,” boasted the
+red giant. “Will you see him in peace, My Lord?”
+
+“Let him enter,” said De Montfort, “but no knavery, now, we are a
+thousand men here, well armed and ready fighters.”
+
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of
+Torn and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath
+the portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of
+Henry III of England.
+
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it
+had been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's men
+without being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de
+Montfort, and his sons Henry and Simon.
+
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside
+the outlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
+
+“What means this,” cried De Montfort, “has the rascal offered you harm
+or indignity?”
+
+“You craven liar,” cried Henry de Montfort, “but yesterday you swore
+upon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool,
+believed.” And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman
+of Torn with drawn sword.
+
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew
+from its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the
+blade of young De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then,
+before either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung
+between them and placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw,
+stretched forth the other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as
+though to protect Norman of Torn from further assault.
+
+“Be he outlaw or devil,” she cried, “he is a brave and courteous knight,
+and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitality
+they can give, and not cold steel and insults.” Then she explained
+briefly to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen during
+the past few days.
+
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the first
+to step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and to
+ask his pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
+
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+
+“Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of
+Torn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing
+moment; but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude,
+but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil,
+and that you have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I would
+gladly have your friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of
+Torn, with all his faults, as well as what virtues you may think him to
+possess.”
+
+“You are right, sir,” said the Earl, “you have our gratitude and our
+thanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and ever
+during our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery and
+your candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not
+break bread at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the right
+to do.”
+
+“Your speech is that of a wise and careful man,” said Norman of Torn
+quietly. “I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel with
+the House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they
+are at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye.” But as he turned to
+go, Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
+
+“You must take my hand in friendship,” she said, “for, to my dying day,
+I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror from
+which he has rescued me.”
+
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee
+raised them to his lips.
+
+“To no other--woman, man, king, God, or devil--has Norman of Torn bent
+the knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his
+services are yours for the asking.”
+
+And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of
+the castle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his five
+hundred men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in
+the roadway.
+
+“A strange man,” said Simon de Montfort, “both good and bad, but from
+today, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were other
+than he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies of
+England, an he could be persuaded to our cause.”
+
+“Who knows,” said Henry de Montfort, “but that an offer of friendship
+might have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was a
+note of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Several days after Norman of Torn's visit to the castle of Leicester,
+a young knight appeared before the Earl's gates demanding admittance to
+have speech with Simon de Montfort. The Earl received him, and as the
+young man entered his presence, Simon de Montfort, sprang to his feet in
+astonishment.
+
+“My Lord Prince,” he cried. “What do ye here, and alone?”
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+“I be no prince, My Lord,” he said, “though some have said that I favor
+the King's son. I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have pleased your
+gracious daughter to mention. I have come to pay homage to Bertrade de
+Montfort.”
+
+“Ah,” said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially, “an
+you be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows of
+Peter of Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+
+“Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her return.
+She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father. She has told
+us of your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her brothers
+and mother await you, Roger de Conde.
+
+“She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until I
+saw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different mothers
+and yet be so identical. Come, we will seek out my daughter and her
+mother.”
+
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were greeted
+by Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort. The girl was
+frankly glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him because he
+had allowed another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her from Peter
+of Colfax.
+
+“And to think,” she cried, “that it should have been Norman of Torn who
+fulfilled your duties for you. But he did not capture Sir Peter's head,
+my friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon a golden
+dish.”
+
+“I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade,” said Roger de Conde. “Peter of
+Colfax will return.”
+
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+
+“The very words of the Outlaw of Torn,” she said. “How many men be ye,
+Roger de Conde? With raised visor, you could pass in the King's court
+for the King's son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and your
+visor lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of Torn.”
+
+“And which would it please ye most that I be?” he laughed.
+
+“Neither,” she answered, “I be satisfied with my friend, Roger de
+Conde.”
+
+“So ye like not the Devil of Torn?” he asked.
+
+“He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligations
+to him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of an
+earl and a king's sister.”
+
+“A most unbridgeable gulf indeed,” commented Roger de Conde, drily. “Not
+even gratitude could lead a king's niece to receive Norman of Torn on a
+footing of equality.”
+
+“He has my friendship, always,” said the girl, “but I doubt me if Norman
+of Torn be the man to impose upon it.”
+
+“One can never tell,” said Roger de Conde, “what manner of fool a man
+may be. When a man's head be filled with a pretty face, what room be
+there for reason?”
+
+“Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning of
+pretty compliments,” said the girl coldly; “and I like not courtiers,
+nor their empty, hypocritical chatter.”
+
+The man laughed.
+
+“If I turned a compliment, I did not know it,” he said. “What I think, I
+say. It may not be a courtly speech or it may. I know nothing of courts
+and care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what is in
+my mind or I say nothing. I did not, in so many words, say that you are
+beautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry with
+my poor eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer woman
+breathes the air of England. Nor can you chide my sinful brain that it
+gladly believes what mine eyes tell it. No, you may not be angry so long
+as I do not tell you all this.”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous a
+sophistry; and, truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear from
+the lips of Roger de Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, and
+before his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way into
+the good graces of the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+
+Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire life,
+yet it seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their kind as
+though he had always been among them. His starved soul, groping through
+the darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting and the
+light of friendship, and urged him to turn his back upon the old life,
+and remain ever with these people, for Simon de Montfort had offered the
+young man a position of trust and honor in his retinue.
+
+“Why refused you the offer of my father?” said Bertrade to him as he
+was come to bid her farewell. “Simon de Montfort is as great a man in
+England as the King himself, and your future were assured did you attach
+your self to his person. But what am I saying! Did Roger de Conde not
+wish to be elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it is
+proof positive that he does not wish to bide among the De Montforts.”
+
+“I would give my soul to the devil,” said Norman of Torn, “would it buy
+me the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade Montfort.”
+
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak,
+but something--was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her little
+fingers, a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body toward
+him?--caused him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep into
+the eyes of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh that
+was half gasp, she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the
+King's niece in his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a great
+love upon those that were upturned to him.
+
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself.
+
+“Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade,” he cried, “what is this thing that I have
+done! Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love for
+you plead in extenuation of my act.”
+
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong
+white hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:
+
+“See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it is
+not, Roger.”
+
+“You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a craven
+poltroon; but, God, how I love you.”
+
+“But,” said the girl, “I do love--”
+
+“Stop,” he cried, “not yet, not yet. Do not say it till I come again.
+You know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when next I
+come, I promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, and
+then, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, 'I love you' no power
+on earth, or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from being
+mine!”
+
+“I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you. I do not
+understand, but I know that you must have some good reason, though
+it all seems very strange to me. If I, a De Montfort, am willing to
+acknowledge my love for any man, there can be no reason why I should
+not do so, unless,” and she started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed and
+paling, “unless there be another woman, a--a--wife?”
+
+“There is no other woman, Bertrade,” said Norman of Torn. “I have
+no wife; nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever before
+touched the lips of another, for I do not remember my mother.”
+
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:
+
+“It is some old woman's bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark corner
+of your imagination to frighten yourself with. I do not fear, since I
+know that you must be all good. There be no line of vice or deception
+upon your face and you are very brave. So brave and noble a man, Roger,
+has a heart of pure gold.”
+
+“Don't,” he said, bitterly. “I cannot endure it. Wait until I come again
+and then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in your heart
+to speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be at
+zenith. Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father.
+Farewell, Bertrade, in a few days I return.”
+
+“If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent young
+puppy, you may save your breath,” thundered an angry voice, and Simon de
+Montfort strode, scowling, into the room.
+
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood
+of the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She faced
+him with as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned
+slowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze.
+
+“I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor,”
+ continued the latter, “to readily guess what had gone before. So it
+is for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home? And
+thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head
+of the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught
+we know, some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that I
+do not aid you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good.”
+
+“Stop!” cried the girl. “Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Roger
+de Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse,
+herself befouled and dishonored?”
+
+“I do not forget,” replied the Earl, “and it is because I remember that
+my sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply repaid by
+the friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
+clean the score. An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I
+lose my temper.”
+
+“There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord,” spoke
+Norman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. “Your
+daughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate asking
+you for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if she
+will have me, My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed
+her. Norm--Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he would
+do.”
+
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to
+control himself to say,
+
+“My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
+negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis
+of France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
+Outlaw of Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be
+known outside his own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor let
+me see your face again within the walls of Leicester's castle.”
+
+“You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be
+quarreling with words,” said the outlaw. “Farewell, My Lady. I shall
+return as I promised, and your word shall be law.” And with a profound
+bow to De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a few
+minutes was riding through the courtyard of the castle toward the main
+portals.
+
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called to
+him from above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+“Take this, Roger de Conde,” she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel to
+him, “and wear it ever, for my sake. We may never meet again, for the
+Earl my father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions;
+therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my saying.
+I love you, and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if you can
+find the means to take me.”
+
+“Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye be
+of the same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye. Again,
+farewell.” And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn
+passed out of the castle yard.
+
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found that
+it contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal.
+
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and then
+slipped it upon the third finger of his left hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester “in a few
+days,” nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade de
+Montfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+
+From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks
+on royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even
+Berkshire and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the
+outlaw.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form
+of Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard
+no word from her.
+
+He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he had
+parted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had left
+his brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of
+his hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean only
+suffering and mortification for the woman he loved.
+
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from
+the subtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love,
+would doubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in the
+heat of a divine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw them
+together, and should that ever chance, while she was still free, he
+would let her know that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one
+and the same.
+
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No it is impossible.
+It is better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored,
+the wife of a common highwayman; for though she might love me at first,
+the bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate.
+
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father
+Claude, the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations;
+the unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand
+which Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King and
+baron were declared.
+
+“It would seem that Henry,” said the priest, “by his continued breaches
+of both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging the
+barons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince
+Edward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carry
+the ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces me
+that he be, by this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and his
+associates.”
+
+“If that be the case,” said Norman of Torn, “we shall have war and
+fighting in real earnest ere many months.”
+
+“And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?” asked
+Father Claude.
+
+“Under the black falcon's wing,” laughed he of Torn.
+
+“Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son,” said the priest, smiling.
+“Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierly
+qualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in
+the paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?”
+
+“Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't. I have one more duty
+to perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thy
+suggestion, but only on one condition.”
+
+“What be that, my son?”
+
+“That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; in
+truth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old
+man of Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I much
+mistrust, be no father to me.”
+
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes before
+he spoke.
+
+Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the
+windows, listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came
+to his attentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirely
+concealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid his
+traitorous form.
+
+At length the priest spoke.
+
+“Norman of Torn,” he said, “so long as thou remain in England, pitting
+thy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons of
+his realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself hast
+said an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatred
+against them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselessly
+away to satisfy the choler of another.
+
+“There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I
+guess and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope
+that it be false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the
+question to be settled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I be
+an old man and versed in reading true between the lines, and so I know
+that thou lovest Bertrade de Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And now,
+what I would say be this. In all England there lives no more honorable
+man than Simon de Montfort, nor none who could more truly decide upon
+thy future and thy past. Thou may not understand of what I hint, but
+thou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Yea, even with my life and honor, my father,” replied the outlaw.
+
+“Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt come
+hither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by his
+decision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be the
+best judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless.”
+
+“I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride
+south.”
+
+“It shall be by the third day, or not at all,” replied Father Claude,
+and Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of
+the lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw
+chief and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim,
+gray, old man.
+
+As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in
+anger.
+
+“The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted
+near twenty years,” he muttered, “if I find not the means to quiet his
+half-wit tongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now.
+Well then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now be
+as good a time as any. If we come near enough to the King's men on this
+trip south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shall
+taste the fruits of his own tyranny,” then glancing up and realizing
+that Spizo, the Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling,
+cried:
+
+“What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?”
+
+“Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently,” replied the
+Spaniard.
+
+The old man eyed him closely.
+
+“An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of
+Father Claude and entered.
+
+“I am honored,” said the priest, rising.
+
+“Priest,” cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, “Norman
+of Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here. I
+know not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not out
+thy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best that
+this meeting take place after we return from the south.”
+
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so
+the latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until
+later.
+
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the head
+of his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward London
+town. One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and other
+servants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents and
+other impedimenta, and bring back the loot.
+
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left to
+guard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+
+At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray,
+old man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the
+catapult detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, with
+his company, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance of
+the column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling of
+sword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and ear
+ample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon no
+peaceful mission.
+
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whom
+we have met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron
+of Cobarth of Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like their
+leader, each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon his
+head, and the story of the life of any one would fill a large volume
+with romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery and death.
+
+Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they
+came upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meeting
+was at a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other
+before the ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair
+wards.
+
+“What the devil be this,” cried one of the knights, as the main body of
+the outlaw horde came into view, “the King's army or one of his foreign
+legions?”
+
+“It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men,” replied the outlaw.
+
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand,
+and there were two women with them.
+
+“Who be ye?” said the outlaw.
+
+“I am Richard de Tany of Essex,” said the oldest knight, he who
+had first spoken, “and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de
+Stutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would you
+of us? Name your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid;
+only let us go our way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil of
+Torn, for we be but ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let the
+women go unharmed.”
+
+“My Lady Mary is an old friend,” said the outlaw. “I called at her
+father's home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, and
+the lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of
+Torn than they might be in the King's palace.”
+
+“Right he is,” spoke up Lady Mary, “Norman of Torn accorded my mother,
+my sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as much
+for his treatment of my father,” she added, half smiling.
+
+“I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany,” said Norman of Torn.
+“Ride on.”
+
+The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle
+of Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger
+de Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+
+In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Norman
+of Torn trotted into the courtyard.
+
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tany
+were waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an old
+friend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming her
+friend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle.
+
+“Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex,” cried
+Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. “Today it is Roger de
+Conde, yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home.”
+
+“I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from
+Roger de Conde,” said Mary, smiling. “For I have heard tales, and I
+see a great ring upon the gentleman's hand--a ring which I have seen
+before.”
+
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but
+asked bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+“Thrice within the year have I received missives from her,” replied
+Mary. “In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why
+he did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not
+his name, but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip.”
+
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly,
+but no sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his
+face.
+
+“I guess it be better so,” he said quietly. “The daughter of a De
+Montfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer,” he added,
+a little bitterly.
+
+“You wrong her, my friend,” said Mary de Stutevill. “She loved you and,
+unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself,
+she loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what
+can you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thought
+you that she would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the
+alliance her father has made for her?”
+
+“You do not understand,” he answered, “and I may not tell you; but I ask
+that you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of mind,
+for her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But, let us
+talk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it upon
+others. I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. It
+will never be given to me to make her or any other woman so. I would
+that I had never come into her life, but I did not know what I was
+doing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness was strong upon me, so
+that I was weak and could not resist what I had never known before in
+all my life--love.”
+
+“You could not well be blamed,” said Joan de Tany, generously. “Bertrade
+de Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benediction
+simply to have known her.”
+
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first
+time, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she
+spoke, her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of
+intelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.
+Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried
+a wounded heart in his breast that longed for surcease from its
+sufferings--for a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises.
+
+And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a
+daily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance
+between the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and
+with one of them, it threatened even more.
+
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only
+friendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard
+and lonely one. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had
+entered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
+
+His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him,
+but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the
+friendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dream
+that either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweet
+friendliness which was as new to him as love--how could he mark the line
+between or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!
+
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow
+in matters of the heart--many there were, she knew, who were thus. She
+might have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let
+things drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
+
+“Be careful of thy heart, Joan,” she said, “lest it be getting away from
+thee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than he
+forgets.”
+
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+
+“I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill,”
+ she replied warmly. “If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so. Do
+not think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine is
+equally susceptible.”
+
+It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on her
+tongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.
+Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
+
+“I do not love him,” she said, “and I be glad that you do not, for
+I know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore
+undying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject.”
+
+It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands of
+the rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stinging
+defeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe
+for small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into the
+hands of the mercenaries of Henry III.
+
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the
+attacks of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find them
+suffering imprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King's
+supporters.
+
+And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan de
+Tany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of the
+merchants.
+
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King's
+party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of
+London was beset with many dangers.
+
+“Why,” cried the girl's mother in exasperation, “between robbers and
+royalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an
+army to escort you.”
+
+“But then, as I have no army,” retorted the laughing girl, “if you
+reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe.”
+
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him with
+being afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he
+might remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.
+
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road
+to London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger de
+Conde was of the party.
+
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from the
+outlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders
+were to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany,
+with Roger de Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he
+bore to the captain of the gate.
+
+The letter contained this brief message:
+
+“The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn,” and was
+unsigned.
+
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who
+had attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered two
+parties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leader
+of the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and,
+reining in before them, cried brusquely,
+
+“Who be ye?”
+
+“A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London,” replied Norman
+of Torn.
+
+“I asked not your mission,” cried the fellow. “I asked, who be ye?
+Answer, and be quick about it.”
+
+“I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters and
+servants,” lied the outlaw, “and were it not that the ladies be with me,
+your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorish
+insolence.”
+
+“There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a French
+coward,” cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
+
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Roger
+de Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw and
+understood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as he
+heard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.
+
+Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were
+some ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together the
+impact was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two
+powerful war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each
+struck the exact center of his opponent's shield. Then, wheeling their
+horses and throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde
+and the officer advanced with drawn swords.
+
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting
+to ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from
+the tip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew
+the battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling
+and turning shoulder to shoulder.
+
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the
+eyes of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed
+every move of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
+
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim
+and haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many words
+the utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And as
+Joan de Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hard
+line, and the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman's
+intuition read the death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword of
+the outlaw buried itself in his heart.
+
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat
+spellbound as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpse
+rolled from the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his
+little party.
+
+The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even
+with the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was
+apparent from the first.
+
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to
+the thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their
+saddles as his leaping point found their vitals.
+
+Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one, an old servitor,
+spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.
+
+“Come, my ladies,” he cried, “quick and you may escape. They be so busy
+with the battle that they will never notice.”
+
+“Take the Lady Mary, John,” cried Joan, “I brought Roger de Conde to
+this pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end.”
+
+“But, My Lady--” cried John.
+
+“But nothing, sirrah!” she interrupted sharply. “Do as you are bid.
+Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father's castle in
+safety,” and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey across
+the rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leaped
+frantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they
+had come.
+
+“After her, John,” commanded Joan peremptorily, “and see that you turn
+not back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring
+aid.”
+
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan from
+her earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that he
+wheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Mary
+de Stutevill.
+
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fully
+twenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy
+toll of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked
+him from behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full
+upon his helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as his
+lifeless body rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-tramped
+clay of the highroad.
+
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his
+prostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling,
+steel-clad horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. And
+well it was for Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day,
+for even as she reached his side, the sword point of one of the soldiers
+was at his throat for the coup de grace.
+
+With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body,
+shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword.
+
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her
+from his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped up
+and drew rein beside the party.
+
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,
+black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often
+seen upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor to
+positions of power and affluence.
+
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for
+years one of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort
+and the barons.
+
+“What now?” he cried. “What goes on here?”
+
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+
+“A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routed
+them, taking these two prisoners.”
+
+“Who be ye?” he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside De
+Conde, and as she raised her head, “My God! The daughter of De Tany! a
+noble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?”
+
+“Look for yourself, My Lord Earl,” replied the girl removing the helm,
+which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
+
+“Edward?” he ejaculated. “But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterday
+leave Edward in Dover.”
+
+“I know not who he be,” said Joan de Tany, “except that he be the most
+marvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see.
+He called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than
+that he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has no
+quarrel with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make
+war on women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your
+soldiers wantonly set upon us.”
+
+“A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troublous
+times,” replied the Earl, “and that alone were enough to necessitate my
+keeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so I
+will grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, but
+a prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need the
+cheering company of a fair and loving lady.”
+
+The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
+
+“Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to
+some comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honored
+in England, even though it does not share the King's favors with his
+foreign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?”
+
+“All be fair in war, my beauty,” replied the Earl. “Egad,” he continued,
+“methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you. It has been
+some years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richard
+de Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle.”
+
+“Then you refuse to release us?” said Joan de Tany.
+
+“Let us not put it thus harshly,” countered the Earl. “Rather let us say
+that it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers that
+the Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautiful
+daughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so--”
+
+“Let us have an end to such foolishness,” cried the girl. “I might have
+expected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee,
+who once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his
+friends to curry favor with the King.”
+
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the
+girl, but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers,
+saying:
+
+“Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I would
+learn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crown
+prince.”
+
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel
+baron which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as
+headquarters by De Fulm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a small
+tower room in a strange castle. His head ached horribly, and he felt
+sick and sore; but he managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, and
+by steadying his swaying body with hands pressed against the wall, he
+was able to reach the door. To his disappointment, he found this locked
+from without and, in his weakened condition, he made no attempt to force
+it.
+
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, but
+his helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened,
+he became more and more impatient. Repeated pounding upon the door
+brought no response and finally he gave up in despair. Going to
+the window, he saw that his room was some thirty feet above the
+stone-flagged courtyard, and also that it looked at an angle upon other
+windows in the old castle where lights were beginning to show. He saw
+men-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he caught a glimpse of a
+woman's figure, but he was not sure.
+
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. He
+hoped that they had escaped, and yet--no, Joan certainly had not, for
+now he distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instant
+just before the blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith and
+confidence that he had read in that quick glance. Such a look would
+nerve a jackal to attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw. What a
+beautiful creature she was; and she had stayed there with him during the
+fight. He remembered now. Mary de Stutevill had not been with her as he
+had caught that glimpse of her, no, she had been all alone. Ah! That was
+friendship indeed!
+
+What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of his
+bruised and wavering memory? Words? Words of love? And lips pressed to
+his? No, it must be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate? He felt, and found
+a metal bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of silken
+hair. He carried the little thing to the window, and in the waning light
+made it out to be a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, but
+he could not tell if the little strand of silken hair were black or
+brown. Carefully he detached the little thing, and, winding the filmy
+tress about it, placed it within the breast of his tunic. He was vaguely
+troubled by it, yet why he could scarcely have told, himself.
+
+Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within his
+vision, and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knight
+coming within the scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+
+From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently in
+heated discussion with some one whom Norman of Torn could not see. The
+man, a great, tall black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pounding
+upon a table to emphasize his words, and presently he sprang up
+as though rushing toward the one to whom he had been speaking. He
+disappeared from the watcher's view for a moment and then, at the far
+side of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him again just as he roughly
+grasped the figure of a woman who evidently was attempting to escape
+him. As she turned to face her tormentor, all the devil in the Devil of
+Torn surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was that of Joan de
+Tany.
+
+With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself against
+the bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavy
+feet without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was
+fitted to the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wall
+beside the doorway, where the inswinging door would conceal him.
+
+As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly,
+the interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, the
+visitor did not see that the cot was empty.
+
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword. That was enough for
+the Devil of Torn--it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellow
+could assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed
+upon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw.
+
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, and
+the clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger at
+his side, the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+
+Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tugging
+with ever diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath.
+Slowly and feebly he raised it high above the back of the man on top of
+him; with a last supreme effort he drove the point downward, but ere it
+reached its goal, there was a sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone,
+the dagger fell harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolled
+backward upon his broken neck.
+
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of Torn
+rushed from the tower room.
+
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joan
+de Tany, she turned upon him like a tigress. Blow after blow she rained
+upon his head and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her
+full upon the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this did not subdue
+her and, with ever weakening strength, she continued to strike him. And
+then the great royalist Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took the
+fair white throat between his great fingers, and the lust of blood
+supplanted the lust of love, for he would have killed her in his rage.
+
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword.
+They were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at the
+sight caused the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to
+meet him.
+
+There were no words, for there was no need of words here. The two men
+were upon each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl had
+regained her feet. It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had
+not some of his men heard the fracas, and rushed to his aid.
+
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room,
+fairly falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swords
+into him; but once they met that master hand, they went more slowly, and
+in a moment, two of them went no more at all, and the others, with the
+Earl, were but circling warily in search of a chance opening--an opening
+which never came.
+
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the
+room, and behind him stood Joan de Tany.
+
+“Move toward the left,” she whispered. “I know this old pile. When
+you reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway
+directly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my
+hand in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, which
+you must turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?”
+
+He nodded.
+
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the
+meantime keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl was
+careful to keep out of reach of the point of De Conde's sword, and the
+men-at-arms were nothing loath to emulate their master's example.
+
+Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
+emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came
+too close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman of
+Torn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword
+swung with a resounding blow against the lamp.
+
+As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through
+the little door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had
+instructed.
+
+“This way,” she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
+silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped
+before a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.
+
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. More
+and more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded
+through the castle.
+
+“What is wrong?” asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
+perturbation.
+
+“Mon Dieu!” she cried. “Can I be wrong! Surely this is the room. Oh, my
+friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness and
+vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I forget the
+way.”
+
+“Do not worry about me,” laughed the Devil of Torn. “Methought that it
+was I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else,
+for surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a handful of
+swords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan,” he
+added more gravely.
+
+The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
+flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.
+
+At last the girl, with a little cry of “stupid,” seized De Conde and
+rushed him to the far side of the room.
+
+“Here it is,” she whispered joyously, “here it has been all the time.”
+ Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little hidden
+spring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in,
+revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panel
+swung quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen men
+entered the apartment.
+
+“The devil take them,” cried De Fulm. “Where can they have gone? Surely
+we were right behind them.”
+
+“It is passing strange, My Lord,” replied one of the men. “Let us try
+the floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have not come this
+way.” And the party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment empty.
+
+Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand
+still in his.
+
+“Where now?” he asked. “Or do we stay hidden here like frightened chicks
+until the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of this musty
+hole?”
+
+“Wait,” she answered, “until I quiet my nerves a little. I am all
+unstrung.” He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his.
+
+With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his
+arm fell about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be brave
+and powerful; naught can harm you while I am here.
+
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it by
+the sheltering darkness.
+
+“Roger,” she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name.
+“I thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolish
+stubbornness. Canst forgive me?”
+
+“Forgive?” he asked, smiling to himself. “Forgive being given an
+opportunity to fight? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it be
+that I should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly.”
+
+“Do not say that,” she commanded. “Never was such bravery or such
+swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man.”
+
+He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts. The
+feel of her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vague
+caress upon his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned
+against him sent the hot blood coursing through his veins. He was
+puzzled, for he had not dreamed that friendship was so sweet. That she
+did not shrink from his encircling arms should have told him much, but
+Norman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman might look upon him with
+love. Nor had he a thought of any other sentiment toward her than that
+of friend and protector.
+
+And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautiful
+face--Bertrade de Montfort's--and Norman of Torn was still more puzzled;
+for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within him.
+Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all his
+starved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men or
+women, it is little to be wondered at that he was easily impressionable
+and responsive to the feeling his strong personality had awakened in two
+of England's fairest daughters.
+
+But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faint
+realization that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendship
+or fear which caused that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him.
+That the responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaintance
+had so quickly reached was not his had never for a moment entered his
+head. To him, the fault was all his; and perhaps it was this quality of
+chivalry that was the finest of the many noble characteristics of his
+sterling character. So his next words were typical of the man; and did
+Joan de Tany love him, or did she not, she learned that night to respect
+and trust him as she respected and trusted few men of her acquaintance.
+
+“My Lady,” said Norman of Torn, “we have been through much, and we are
+as little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon our
+acquaintance,” and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, “I ask
+you to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and from
+the pain of the blow upon my head.”
+
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his hand
+and led him forward through a dark, cold corridor.
+
+“We must go carefully now,” she said at last, “for there be stairs
+near.”
+
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps than
+conditions required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward,
+very slowly down a flight of rough stone steps.
+
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being new
+at love, he blundered.
+
+“Joan de Tany,” he said.
+
+“Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?”
+
+“You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me. Tell me that you
+forgive what I have done, an it offended you. I have so few friends,” he
+added sadly, “that I cannot afford to lose such as you.”
+
+“You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany,” she answered. “You
+have won her respect and--and--” But she could not say it and so she
+trailed off lamely--“and undying gratitude.”
+
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he dared
+to let her. He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade de
+Montfort before him; and now another vision arose that would effectually
+have sealed his lips had not the other--he saw the Outlaw of Torn
+dangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet.
+
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it,
+and while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for
+him, again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did
+not return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survive
+the knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany
+led him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a
+large chamber. The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no
+ray of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the
+stillness.
+
+“This be the castle's crypt,” whispered Joan; “and they do say that
+strange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, and
+that when the castle sleeps, the castle's dead rise from their coffins
+and shake their dry bones.
+
+“Sh! What was that?” as a rustling noise broke upon their ears close
+upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
+fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn's arms.
+
+“There is nothing to fear, Joan,” reassured Norman of Torn. “Dead men
+wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think, and rats
+are our only companions here.”
+
+“I am afraid,” she whispered. “If you can make a light, I am sure
+you will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less
+fearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search of
+adventure, we passed through these corridors an hundred times, but
+always by day and with lights.”
+
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. The
+chamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some
+effigies in marble set at intervals about the walls.
+
+“Not such a fearsome place after all,” he said, laughing lightly.
+
+“No place would seem fearsome now,” she answered simply, “were there a
+light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my side.”
+
+“Hush, child,” replied the outlaw. “You know not what you say. When you
+know me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde is
+not what you think him. So say no more of praise until we be out of this
+hole, and you safe in your father's halls.”
+
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to again
+bring the girl's face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet breath
+upon his cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to her.
+
+With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a few
+moments, reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway.
+
+“This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle. We
+have passed beneath the walls and the moat. What may we do now, Roger,
+without horses?”
+
+“Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the
+cover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to your
+father's castle,” replied Norman of Torn.
+
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch
+upon the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and
+stepped forth into the fresh night air.
+
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had
+there ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it
+was with difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling
+creepers and tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell before
+they had taken a score of steps.
+
+“I fear I am not strong enough,” she said finally. “The way is much more
+difficult than I had thought.”
+
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on
+through the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine. It
+required the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to
+the roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and her
+hair brushed his cheek. Once when she lifted her head to speak to him,
+he bent toward her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushed
+hers. He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint sigh
+breathed from her lips.
+
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mist
+was before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered
+those warm lips with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers,
+closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear
+cut and distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of
+Torn swinging by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside it
+knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels. Her face
+was averted and her arms were outstretched toward the dangling form that
+swung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was racked with
+choking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to her
+feet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her
+features for an instant then--the woman who openly and alone mourned the
+dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan
+de Tany to the ground. In that instant Norman of Torn had learned the
+difference between friendship and love, and love and passion.
+
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyed
+and wondering, toward him. She had felt the wild call of love and she
+could not understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no
+vision beyond a life of happiness within those strong arms.
+
+“Joan,” he said, “I would but now have wronged thee. Forgive me. Forget
+what has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightful
+colors, when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer upon
+us, and then,”--he paused--“and then I shall tell you who I be and you
+shall say if you still care to call me friend--no more than that shall I
+ask.”
+
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort, but it had been a thousand times better had he done so.
+
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from the
+surrounding shadows, calling upon them to surrender. The moonlight
+falling upon the leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with an
+enormous, bristling mustache--it was Shandy.
+
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+
+“It is I, Shandy,” he said. “Keep a still tongue in thy head until I
+speak with thee apart. Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be friends.”
+
+Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow had
+become alarmed at his chief's continued absence, and had set out with
+a small party to search for him. They had come upon the riderless Sir
+Mortimer grazing by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, had
+discovered evidences of the conflict at the cross-roads. There they had
+found Norman of Torn's helmet, confirming their worst fears. A peasant
+in a nearby hut had told them of the encounter, and had set them upon
+the road taken by the Earl and his prisoners.
+
+“And here we be, My Lord,” concluded the great fellow.
+
+“How many are you?” asked the outlaw.
+
+“Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes.”
+
+“Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us,” said the chief.
+“And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night with the
+Outlaw of Torn.”
+
+“Yes, My Lord.”
+
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany.
+
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprang
+out of the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, a
+gentleman of France.
+
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where had
+she seen that mighty frame before? And now she looked closely at the
+figure of Roger de Conde. Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two men
+together; but where and when?
+
+And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind. Roger de
+Conde spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words upon
+this man's lips as he addressed the red giant.
+
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who had
+picked it up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with lowered
+visor, as was his custom.
+
+There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the moonlight
+touched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who rode behind
+him, a little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, and
+a great shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+
+“Open! Open for My Lady Joan.”
+
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle and
+excitement. A dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out still
+others without waiting for replies.
+
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fully
+clothed, having not lain down during the whole night. They fairly fell
+upon Joan and Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+
+“Come, come,” said the Baron, “let us go within. You must be fair
+famished for good food and drink.”
+
+“I will ride, My Lord,” replied Norman of Torn. “I have a little matter
+of business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham. Business which I
+fear will not wait.”
+
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence. Nor did she urge him to remain, as he
+raised her hand to his lips in farewell. So Norman of Torn rode out of
+the courtyard; and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays of
+the drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched them through the gate,
+and a great light broke upon her, for what she saw was the same as she
+had seen a few days since when she had turned in her saddle to watch
+the retreating forms of the cut-throats of Torn as they rode on after
+halting her father's party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through the
+ravine below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his
+headquarters; while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods before
+the grim pile.
+
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the little
+door through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before. Following
+the corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stone
+stairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the false panel that
+had given the two fugitives egress.
+
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartment
+followed closely by his henchmen. On they went, through apartment after
+apartment, but no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their
+search, and it was soon apparent that the castle was deserted.
+
+As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man basking
+in the sun, upon a bench. The sight of them nearly caused the old fellow
+to die of fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the untenanted
+halls was well reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek.
+
+When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had ridden
+out early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was. The
+outlaw knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was his
+anger against this man, that he ordered his band to mount, and spurring
+to their head, he marched through Middlesex, and crossing the Thames
+above London, entered Surrey late the same afternoon.
+
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between London
+and Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham,
+having sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of a
+royalist baron, whose husband was with Prince Edward's forces.
+
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady's
+household who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she had
+done him. When, therefore, he found that these grim men were searching
+for De Fulm, he saw a way to be revenged upon his mistress.
+
+“How many swords be there at the castle?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham,” replied the knave;
+“and, furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you, My
+Lord, so that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and the
+Earl be supping.”
+
+“Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn. “We
+shall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl of
+Buckingham.”
+
+Half an hour's ride brought them within sight of the castle.
+Dismounting, and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman of
+Torn advanced on foot with Shandy and the eight others, close in the
+wake of the traitorous servant.
+
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush,
+he had hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat and
+rested its farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the
+ground.
+
+“Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy,” said the outlaw, “till all
+be in, an' if there be any signs of treachery, stick him through the
+gizzard--death thus be slower and more painful.”
+
+So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge, and
+disappeared within the window beyond. One by one the band of cut-throats
+passed through the little window, until all stood within the castle
+beside their chief; Shandy coming last with the servant.
+
+“Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups,” said Norman
+of Torn. “You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my being
+interrupted.”
+
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthily
+across the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left the
+little room, this figure pushed quietly through the window and followed
+the great outlaw down the unlighted corridor.
+
+A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon the
+grim figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the great
+dining hall.
+
+“My Lord Earl!” she cried. “Look! Behind you.”
+
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him, he overturned the
+bench upon which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earl
+of Buckingham had a guilty conscience.
+
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword.
+
+“A moment, My Lord,” said a low voice in perfect French.
+
+“Who are you?” cried the lady.
+
+“I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little
+story.
+
+“In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of England
+held by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when she
+spurned his advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her fair
+face, and with his brute hands choked her. And in that castle also was
+a despised and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neck
+the hempen noose has been yawning these many years. And it was this vile
+person who came in time to save the young woman from the noble flower of
+knighthood that would have ruined her young life.
+
+“The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to the
+noble's rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest
+he be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the hands
+of her tormentor.
+
+“But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl,
+he must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in full
+the toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and violence done
+her.
+
+“My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord the
+Earl of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the duty
+he has sworn to do. En garde, My Lord!”
+
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he had
+been looking through a haze of blood for hours--in fact every time he
+had thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de Tany
+and of the cruel blow that had fallen upon her face.
+
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a corner
+of the room, and when he had him there where he could escape in no
+direction, he drove his blade so deep through his putrid heart that the
+point buried itself an inch in the oak panel beyond.
+
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was witnessing,
+and, as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead body before him
+and wiped it on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascination
+while he drew his dagger and made a mark upon the forehead of the dead
+nobleman.
+
+“Outlaw or Devil,” said a stern voice behind them, “Roger Leybourn owes
+you his friendship for saving the honor of his home.”
+
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway where
+Norman of Torn had first appeared.
+
+“Roger!” shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+
+“Who be you?” continued the master of Leybourn addressing the outlaw.
+
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl of
+Buckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+“I owe you much. You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast,
+and Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman of
+Torn.”
+
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+
+“You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper. I
+have eaten but once in forty-eight hours.”
+
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain on
+watch, but to interfere with no one within the castle.
+
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who had
+recovered from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor lay
+the body of De Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, and
+had hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half an
+hour before the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity to
+enter unobserved by the servants. It was he who had followed across the
+ladder after Shandy.
+
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for the
+first time within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at the
+house of a gentleman.
+
+The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to his
+camp started on his homeward march toward Torn.
+
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs of
+London, they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at a
+small party of gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were waxing
+brave to lay violent hands upon the party. Mud and rocks and rotten
+vegetables were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of them
+barely missing the women of the party.
+
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thick
+of it laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and his
+men, catching the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole
+pack of attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, he
+continued on his march toward the north.
+
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after the
+retreating figures of their deliverers. Then one of the ladies turned
+to a knight at her side with a word of command and an imperious gesture
+toward the fast disappearing company. He, thus addressed, put spurs to
+his horse, and rode at a rapid gallop after the outlaw's troop. In a few
+moments he had overtaken them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.
+
+“Hold, Sir Knight,” cried the gentleman, “the Queen would thank you in
+person for your brave defence of her.”
+
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his
+horse and rode back with the Queen's messenger.
+
+As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel.
+
+“You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen's life
+that you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but driven
+a pack of curs from annoying a stray cat,” said the Queen.
+
+“I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of a
+queen.”
+
+“What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed? The
+King, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me your
+name.”
+
+“If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang me,”
+ laughed the outlaw. “I be Norman of Torn.”
+
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none of
+them had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry of
+England feared and hated.
+
+“For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the King
+has pardoned men before,” replied Her Majesty. “But raise your visor,
+I would look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a
+gentleman and a loyal protector of his queen.”
+
+“They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends,” replied
+Norman of Torn quietly, “have never lived to tell what they saw beneath
+this visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year to
+fear it might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil of
+Torn lifted from his face.” Without another word he wheeled and galloped
+back to his little army.
+
+“The puppy, the insolent puppy,” cried Eleanor of England, in a rage.
+
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a period
+of twenty years.
+
+Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces of
+Torn from their Essex camp back to Derby. The numerous raiding parties
+which had been constantly upon the road during the days they had spent
+in this rich district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts with rich
+and valuable booty and the men, for the time satiated with fighting and
+loot, turned their faces toward Torn with evident satisfaction.
+
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the old
+man of Torn.
+
+“Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrow
+morning. I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand,
+and, as I shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join you
+tomorrow.”
+
+“Do not forget, My Lord,” said Edwild the Serf, a great yellow-haired
+Saxon giant, “that there be a party of the King's troops camped close by
+the road which branches to Tany.”
+
+“I shall give them plenty of room,” replied Norman of Torn. “My neck
+itcheth not to be stretched,” and he laughed and mounted.
+
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo the
+Spaniard, sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest, mounted
+and spurred rapidly after him. The camp, in the throes of packing
+refractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling their own wild
+mounts, did not notice his departure. Only the little grim, gray, old
+man knew that he had gone, or why, or whither.
+
+That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richard
+de Tany and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming of
+the Lady Joan, a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of the
+King's soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany.
+
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred back
+in the direction from which he had come.
+
+And this was what he read:
+
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort.
+
+Instantly the call “to arms” and “mount” sounded through the camp and,
+in five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great
+reward and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw who
+was now almost within his clutches.
+
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King's
+soldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Norman
+of Torn from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest
+through Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited
+composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.
+
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of the
+period; a beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressed
+excitement which caused the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her
+cheek, and her breasts to rise and fall above her fast beating heart.
+
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and then
+they stood looking into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment.
+
+“I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell,” he said sadly.
+“I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the temptation to be
+with you and those whom you typify must be my excuse. I--” He paused.
+It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn, but if she loved
+him, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort?
+
+“You need tell me nothing,” interrupted Joan de Tany. “I have guessed
+what you would tell me, Norman of Torn. 'The spell of moonlight and
+adventure is no longer upon us'--those are your own words, and still I
+am glad to call you friend.”
+
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality of
+her decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend to
+her.
+
+“It is best,” he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt no
+love for him now that she knew him for what he really was. “Nothing good
+could come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim more
+of you than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind and
+for my own, we will let it be as though you had never known me. I thank
+you that you have not been angry with me. Remember me only to think that
+in the hills of Derby, a sword is at your service, without reward and
+without price. Should you ever need it, Joan, tell me that you will send
+for me--wilt promise me that, Joan?”
+
+“I promise, Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Farewell,” he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his knee
+to the ground in reverence. Then he rose to go, pressing a little packet
+into her palm. Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief instant,
+deep in the azure depths of the girl's that which tumbled the structure
+of his new-found complacency about his ears.
+
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which led
+northwest toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for he
+realized two things. One was that the girl he had left still loved him,
+and that some day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she had
+sent him away; and the other was that he did not love her, that his
+heart was locked in the fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and the
+aching sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl's
+life. That he had been new to women and newer still to love did not
+permit him to excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly
+and stupidity, and what he thought was fickleness.
+
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to know
+without question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade de
+Montfort's lips would always be more to him than all the allurements
+possessed by the balance of the women of the world, no matter how
+charming, or how beautiful.
+
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that the
+attitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was but
+the attitude which the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good woman
+of her class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Montfort when she
+learned that Roger de Conde was Norman of Torn.
+
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere the
+girl, who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing with
+strangely drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw a
+body of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south.
+
+The King's banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de Tany
+knew for whom they sought at her father's castle. Quickly she hastened
+to the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their hail
+rather than one of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King's
+men drew rein before the castle.
+
+In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission.
+
+“We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this castle,”
+ replied the officer.
+
+“There be no outlaw here,” replied the girl, “but, if you wish, you may
+enter with half a dozen men and search the castle.”
+
+This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman of
+Torn was not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain
+that the Outlaw of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King's
+men; so she said:
+
+“There was one here just before you came who called himself though by
+another name than Norman of Torn. Possibly it is he ye seek.”
+
+“Which way rode he?” cried the officer.
+
+“Straight toward the west by the middle road,” lied Joan de Tany. And,
+as the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back,
+galloped furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon a
+bench, pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, and
+within found two others. In one of these was a beautiful jeweled locket,
+and on the outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the initials
+NT; in the other was a golden hair ornament set with precious stones,
+and about it was wound a strand of her own silken tresses.
+
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them against
+her lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her lithe
+young form racked with sobs.
+
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds of
+caste to a false ideal. Birth and station spelled honor to her, and
+honor, to the daughter of an English noble, was a mightier force even
+than love.
+
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that he
+was, according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassable
+barrier between them.
+
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her raged
+the mighty battle of the heart against the head.
+
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her arms
+about the girl's neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause of
+her sorrow. Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing
+heart; that wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not even a
+mother's love could check.
+
+“Joan, my dear daughter,” cried Lady de Tany, “I sorrow with thee that
+thy love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore. But it be
+better that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take
+my word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance must
+needs have brought upon thee and thy father's house would soon have
+cooled thy love; nor could his have survived the sneers and affronts
+even the menials would have put upon him.”
+
+“Oh, mother, but I love him so,” moaned the girl. “I did not know how
+much until he had gone, and the King's officer had come to search for
+him, and then the thought that all the power of a great throne and the
+mightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against him
+raised the hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my love
+surged through all my being. Mother, thou canst not know the honor, and
+the bravery, and the chivalry of the man as I do. Not since Arthur of
+Silures kept his round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so true
+a knight as Norman of Torn.
+
+“Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed the
+honor of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignified
+respect in which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too,
+and felt that outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentleman than
+nine-tenths the nobles of England.”
+
+“But his birth, my daughter!” argued the Lady de Tany. “Some even say
+that the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck, and
+others that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor had
+he any mother.”
+
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught could the girl say to
+justify so heinous a crime as low birth. What a man did in those rough
+cruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother
+or his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter howsoever
+wickedly attained, he might never overcome or live down.
+
+Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her own
+apartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild,
+impossible hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long,
+bitter night; until toward morning she solved the problem of her misery
+in the only way that seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding,
+little heart. When the rising sun shone through the narrow window, it
+found Joan de Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden hilt
+of the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded from her breast, and a
+thin line of crimson ran across the snowy skin to a little pool upon the
+sheet beneath her.
+
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush
+another innocent victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could
+tell from outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad
+intelligence wrought on the master of Torn.
+
+All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders were
+issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south toward
+Essex without other halt than for necessary food and water for man and
+beast.
+
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father's castle to
+the church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final
+resting place in the castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silent
+knights, black draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind
+the bier.
+
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as
+silently, they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the
+following night.
+
+No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of
+sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn
+had come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and all
+but the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.
+
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young
+leader turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door
+of Father Claude's cottage.
+
+“I am tired, Father,” said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his
+accustomed bench. “Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps. I
+and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth.”
+
+“Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late. Seek out
+a new and better life in another country and carve thy future into the
+semblance of glory and honor.”
+
+“Would that I might, my friend,” answered Norman of Torn. “But hast
+thou thought on the consequences which surely would follow should I thus
+remove both heart and head from the thing that I have built?
+
+“What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his great
+band of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England? Hast thought on't,
+Father?
+
+“Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild the
+Serf were ranging unchecked through Derby? Edwild, whose father was torn
+limb from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to killing a
+buck in the new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of another
+man; Edwild, whose mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church.
+
+“And Horsan the Dane, Father. How thinkest thou the safety of the roads
+would be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon
+ye?
+
+“And Pensilo, the Spanish Don! A great captain, but a man absolutely
+without bowels of compassion. When first he joined us and saw our mark
+upon the foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked
+the living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron, branding
+a great P upon each cheek and burning out the right eye completely.
+Wouldst like to feel, Father, that Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged
+free through forest and hill of England?
+
+“And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One Eye
+Kanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the
+thousand others, each with a special hatred for some particular class or
+individual, and all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and loot.
+
+“No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to
+hate, I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn
+loose upon her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order
+or decency other than that which I enforce.”
+
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many
+minutes.
+
+“Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son,” he said at last.
+“Thou canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of
+England, but even that may be possible; who knows other than God?”
+
+“For my part,” laughed the outlaw, “I be willing to leave it in His
+hands; which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirk
+a responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the
+Lord.”
+
+“I fear, my son,” said the priest, “that what seed of reverence I have
+attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit.”
+
+“That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord into
+partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and
+poor spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may be
+wrong, for I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of
+God and scapegoat be not that they are synonymous.”
+
+“Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends,”
+ replied the priest, “and further, there be that nearer my heart just now
+which I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to.
+The question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom thou
+call father?”
+
+“I know of no treachery,” replied the outlaw, “which he hath ever
+conceived against me. Why?”
+
+“I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meet
+me and two others here upon an important matter. I have learned that he
+expects to be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week.
+He is to notify me when he will come and I shall then send for thee
+and the old man of Torn; but it were as well, my son, that thou do
+not mention this matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou come
+hither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be present.”
+
+“As you say, Father,” replied Norman of Torn. “I do not make head nor
+tail of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so is
+sufficient. I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell.”
+
+Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himself
+with occasional pillages against the royalists of the surrounding
+counties, and his patrols so covered the public highways that it became
+a matter of grievous import to the King's party, for no one was safe in
+the district who even so much as sympathized with the King's cause, and
+many were the dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil of
+Torn.
+
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it now
+seemed a matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grisly
+banner would be found on their side.
+
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent in
+rough, wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sit
+at table singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in
+through the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo,
+tired of the din and racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawn
+sword and laid upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce the
+authority of his commands to disperse.
+
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, but
+when minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair,
+the Outlaw of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter's dull
+monotony to as late an hour as another; nor could any man of his great
+fierce horde outdrink their chief when he cared to indulge in the
+pleasures of the wine cup. The only effect that liquor seemed to have
+upon him was to increase his desire to fight, so that he was wont to
+pick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for the slightest,
+or for no provocation at all. So, for this reason, he drank but seldom
+since he always regretted the things he did under the promptings of that
+other self which only could assert its ego when reason was threatened
+with submersion.
+
+Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from the
+wild, roving lives of its own members. Tales of adventure, love, war
+and death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told,
+each, his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fighting
+enough by day to keep them good humored, the winter passed, and spring
+came with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with soft
+zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.
+
+Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear from
+Simon de Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message which
+told the good priest that his letter had missed the great baron and
+had followed him around until he had but just received it. The message
+closed with these words:
+
+“Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledge
+of the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give our
+best attention. Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we shall
+visit thee, good father, on the fifth day from today.”
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort's man leave the note with
+Father Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl on
+his table, so that when the good father left his cottage, it was the
+matter of but a moment's work for Spizo to transfer the message from its
+hiding place to the breast of his tunic. The fellow could not read, but
+he to whom he took the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin in
+which it was penned.
+
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the full
+purport of this letter flashed upon him. It had been years since he had
+heard aught of the search for the little lost prince of England, and now
+that the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now that more and
+more often opportunities were opening up to him to wreak the last shred
+of his terrible vengeance, the very thought of being thwarted at the
+final moment staggered his comprehension.
+
+“On the fifth day,” he repeated. “That is the day on which we were to
+ride south again. Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not
+talk with thee, thou fool priest.”
+
+That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein before
+the walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:
+
+“A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace of
+God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of
+Torn, Open, in the name of the King!”
+
+Norman of Torn directed that the King's messenger be admitted, and the
+knight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle.
+
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered.
+
+The bearing of the King's officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a
+man of birth when dealing with a low born knave.
+
+“His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah,” he said, withdrawing
+a parchment from his breast. “And, as you doubtless cannot read, I will
+read the King's commands to you.”
+
+“I can read,” replied Norman of Torn, “whatever the King can write.
+Unless it be,” he added, “that the King writes no better than he rules.”
+
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+
+“It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of our
+gracious King. If he were less generous, he would have sent you a halter
+rather than this message which I bear.”
+
+“A bridle for thy tongue, my friend,” replied Norman of Torn, “were in
+better taste than a halter for my neck. But come, let us see what the
+King writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn.”
+
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:
+
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of
+Aquitaine; to Norman of Torn:
+
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing and
+plundering the persons and property of our faithful lieges!!!!!
+
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God,
+do command that you cease these nefarious practices!!!!!
+
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, Queen
+Eleanor, we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes!!!!!
+
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the fighting
+men, your followers, prepared to protect the security of our person, and
+wage war upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert de
+Clare and their accomplices, who even now are collected to threaten and
+menace our person and kingdom!!!!!
+
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your long
+unpunished crimes. Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in the
+forty-eighth year of our reign.
+
+HENRY, REX.
+
+“The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded,” said Norman of Torn,
+“for because of it shall the King's messenger eat the King's message,
+and thus take back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn.” And
+crumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the royal
+emissary.
+
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was even
+quicker, so that it seemed that the King's messenger had deliberately
+hurled his weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him.
+
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful hand
+and, despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, bent
+him back upon the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the
+point of his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King's message down the
+knight's throat; wax, parchment and all.
+
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn a
+half hour later and spurred rapidly--in his head a more civil tongue.
+
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea and
+reported the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearing
+by all the saints in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for
+his effrontery before the snow flew again.
+
+News of the fighting between the barons and the King's forces at
+Rochester, Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a few
+days after the coming of the King's message, but at the same time came
+other news which hastened his departure toward the south. This latter
+word was that Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied by Prince
+Philip, had landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come Peter
+of Colfax back to England--the latter, doubtless reassured by the strong
+conviction, which held in the minds of all royalists at that time, of
+the certainty of victory for the royal arms in the impending conflict
+with the rebel barons.
+
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfort
+once again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity.
+He knew what the result must be. His experience with Joan de Tany had
+taught him that. But the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated all
+his acts where the happiness or honor of women were concerned urged him
+to give himself over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman's pride,
+that it might be she who spurned and rejected; for, as it must appear
+now, it had been he whose love had grown cold. It was a bitter thing
+to contemplate, for not alone would the mighty pride of the man be
+lacerated, but a great love.
+
+Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reported
+to the old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman of
+Torn to come with his father to the priest's cottage the morning of the
+march to meet Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what the
+nature of the thing was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more than
+aught he had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that the
+priest had not as yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlaw
+of Torn.
+
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south,
+a little, wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of Father
+Claude. No man knows what words passed between the good priest and his
+visitor nor the details of what befell within the four walls of the
+little cottage that night; but some half hour only elapsed before the
+little, grim, gray man emerged from the darkened interior and hastened
+upward upon the rocky trail into the hills, a cold smile of satisfaction
+on his lips.
+
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparation
+early the following morning, for by eight o'clock the column was to
+march. The courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys. War
+horses were being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed to
+great posts, were being laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings of
+the men; while those already packed were wandering loose among the other
+animals and men. There was squealing, biting, kicking, and cursing as
+animals fouled one another with their loads, or brushed against some
+tethered war horse.
+
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to don
+armor, lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, and
+rondel; buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg. The open forges of
+armorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvil
+rose above the thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the shouting
+of commands, the rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stone
+flags, as these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing, through the
+eleventh hour repairs to armor, lance and sword, or to reset a shoe upon
+a refractory, plunging beast.
+
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some
+semblance of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam. First the sumpter
+beasts, all loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs
+below the castle and there held to await the column. Then, one by one,
+the companies were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon and
+waving banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
+
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction which
+hurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls of
+beleaguered castles.
+
+And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and the
+little old man walked side by side from the castle building and mounted
+their chargers held by two squires in the center of the courtyard.
+
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as
+the two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of
+Torn, saying,
+
+“I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son. Father Claude
+sent word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and
+that some appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred
+until later. He said that you would understand.” The old man eyed his
+companion narrowly through the eye slit in his helm.
+
+“'Tis passing strange,” said Norman of Torn but that was his only
+comment. And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward
+the valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of
+Torn saw that the door was closed and that there was no sign of life
+about the place. A wave of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted
+aspect of the little flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a
+near future without the beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
+
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge of
+the valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the south
+by another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drew
+rein before the cottage of Father Claude.
+
+As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter the
+building.
+
+“Have a care, My Lord,” cried his companion. “This be over-close to the
+Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in the
+message which called thee thither.”
+
+“Fear not,” replied Simon de Montfort, “the Devil of Torn hath no
+quarrel with me.” Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the
+door. Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim
+light of the interior. There he found his host, the good father Claude,
+stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes
+dark with dried and clotted blood.
+
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his
+companions.
+
+“The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden
+for a man to carry,” he said. “But this convinces me more than any words
+the priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, and
+possibly Prince Richard also.”
+
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked
+thoroughly by the assassin. The contents of drawer and box littered
+every room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced by
+many pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched.
+
+“The true object lies here,” said De Montfort, pointing to the open
+hearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents.
+“All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here
+beneath the table?” and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up
+a sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced. It was
+addressed to him, and he read it aloud:
+
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our
+meeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either
+its contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+
+He who bareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince
+Richard. Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as
+positive as I.
+
+Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know the
+wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call!!!!!
+
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the
+assassin.
+
+“Mon Dieu! The damnable luck!” cried De Montfort, “but a second more
+and the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.
+Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend
+incarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of
+Lady Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames? The Devil himself must
+watch o'er him.
+
+“There be naught more we can do here,” he continued. “I should have been
+on my way to Fletching hours since. Come, my gentlemen, we will ride
+south by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to the
+decent burial of this holy man.”
+
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away. Noon found them at Leicester,
+and three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+
+At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed
+the last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claude
+and consigned his clay to the churchyard.
+
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance
+which had been born in the King's armory twenty years before passed from
+the eyes of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly south
+on the road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing
+for its advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son Prince
+Edward, and his brother, Prince Richard, King of the Romans, together
+with the latter's son, were entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand
+strong.
+
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons' army set
+out from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marching
+through dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city,
+unobserved.
+
+From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valley
+Combe, the projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march from
+the town. The King's party, however, had no suspicion that an attack was
+imminent and, in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial troops,
+had spent the preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they were
+quite taken by surprise.
+
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of the
+hill in advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army that
+the soldiers, growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward
+morning, and returned to town, leaving but a single man on watch. He,
+left alone, had promptly fallen asleep, and thus De Montfort's men found
+and captured him within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes,
+where the King and his royal allies lay peacefully asleep, after their
+night of wine and dancing and song.
+
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial army
+would doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but it
+happened that, the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party to
+ride forth at daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were low.
+
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into the
+hands of the baronial troops. Though some few were killed or captured,
+those who escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of the
+royalists to the close proximity and gravity of their danger.
+
+By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort's army were in full view
+of the town. On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave;
+in the center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William de
+Monchensy, at the head of a large division which occupied that branch of
+the hill which descended a gentle, unbroken slope to the town. The right
+wing was commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son of Simon de
+Montfort, and with him was the third son, Guy, as well as John de
+Burgh and Humphrey de Bohun. The reserves were under Simon de Montfort
+himself.
+
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and his
+party, which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort;
+so that brother faced brother, and father fought against son, on that
+bloody Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes.
+
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and, as
+he issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners and
+pennons streaming in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade
+scintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and impressive
+spectacle as he hurled himself upon the Londoners, whom he had selected
+for attack because of the affront they had put upon his mother that day
+at London on the preceding July.
+
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotected
+burghers, unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before the
+iron men on their iron shod horses. The long lances, the heavy maces,
+the six-bladed battle axes, and the well-tempered swords of the knights
+played havoc among them, so that the rout was complete; but, not content
+with victory, Prince Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he pursued
+the citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of them, while many
+more were drowned in attempting to escape across the Ouse.
+
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and his
+gallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined resistance
+at the hands of Henry de Montfort.
+
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, and
+thus the battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantage
+appearing to lie with the King's troops. Had Edward not gone so far
+afield in pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might easily have been
+on the side of the royalists early in the day, but by thus eliminating
+his division after defeating a part of De Montfort's army, it was as
+though neither of these two forces had been engaged.
+
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centered
+the fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills. He had
+caused his car to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many of
+his leaders, under a small guard, so that the banners there displayed,
+together with the car, led the King of the Romans to believe that the
+Earl himself lay there, for Simon de Montfort had but a month or so
+before suffered an injury to his hip when his horse fell with him, and
+the royalists were not aware that he had recovered sufficiently to again
+mount a horse.
+
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed back
+the men of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car came
+the royalists until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults
+against the old Earl and commanding him to come forth. And when they had
+killed the occupants of the car, they found that Simon de Montfort
+was not among them, but instead he had fastened there three important
+citizens of London, old men and influential, who had opposed him, and
+aided and abetted the King.
+
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, that
+he fell upon the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly but
+steadily beat them back from the town.
+
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy's left wing by Prince
+Edward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two remaining
+divisions took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that, what a
+moment before had hung in the balance, now seemed an assured victory for
+King Henry.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the melee
+with all their reserves. No longer was there semblance of organization.
+Division was inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe formed
+a jumbled confusion of fighting, cursing chaos, over which whipped the
+angry pennons and banners of England's noblest houses.
+
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that the
+King's arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been had
+not a new element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow of
+the hill to the north of them appeared a great horde of armored knights,
+and as they came into position where they could view the battle, the
+leader raised his sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand broke
+into a mad charge.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon this
+body of fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements. Whom might
+they be? To which side owned they allegiance? And, then, as the
+black falcon wing on the banners of the advancing horsemen became
+distinguishable, they saw that it was the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, the
+wild battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned the
+hopes of the royalists cold within their breasts.
+
+“For De Montfort! For De Montfort!” and “Down with Henry!” rang loud and
+clear above the din of battle.
+
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance that
+the King himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety of
+Lewes.
+
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it was
+that Norman of Torn found him barricaded. When the door was broken down,
+the outlaw entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own hand to
+the feet of De Montfort, and would have put him to death had not the
+Earl intervened.
+
+“I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King,” said Norman of
+Torn, “and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl,
+his life shall be yours to do with as you see fit.”
+
+“You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn,” replied De Montfort.
+“Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not mar the
+record of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity.”
+
+“It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead,”
+ retorted the outlaw.
+
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple
+truth.
+
+“How comes it, Norman of Torn,” asked De Montfort as they rode together
+toward Lewes, “that you threw the weight of your sword upon the side of
+the barons? Be it because you hate the King more?”
+
+“I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl,” replied the outlaw. “I
+have been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should hate
+was never told me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to my
+maturer years.
+
+“As for why I fought as I did today,” he continued, “it be because the
+heart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side. Had it been
+with the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than
+he has this day. So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude.
+Tomorrow I may be pillaging your friends as of yore.”
+
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of his
+lowered visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath.
+
+“You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn,” said the Earl
+coldly, “and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot you.
+An English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France, does
+not have much thought to waste upon highwaymen.” His tone, as well as
+his words were studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung the
+pride of this haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted the
+friendship of his daughter.
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seen
+his face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred and
+resentment, the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines of
+pain and sorrow; for he read in the attitude of the father what he might
+expect to receive at the hands of the daughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fled
+precipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory,
+the city was turned over to looting and rapine. In this, Norman of Torn
+and his men did not participate, but camped a little apart from the town
+until daybreak the following morning, when they started east, toward
+Dover.
+
+They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty miles
+out of their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold. The troops
+stationed there had fled, having been appraised some few hours earlier,
+by fugitives, of the defeat of Henry's army at Lewes.
+
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, finding
+it entirely deserted, continued his eastward march. Some few miles
+farther on, he overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and from
+them he easily, by dint of threats, elicited the information he desired:
+the direction taken by the refugees from the deserted castle, their
+number, and as close a description of the party as the soldiers could
+give.
+
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, this
+time heading northward into Kent. It was dark before he reached his
+destination, and saw before him the familiar outlines of the castle
+of Roger de Leybourn. This time, the outlaw threw his fierce horde
+completely around the embattled pile before he advanced with a score of
+sturdy ruffians to reconnoiter.
+
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hope
+for stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the great
+building and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladder
+that Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudia
+unearth, that the outlaw might visit the Earl of Buckingham,
+unannounced.
+
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raise
+it to the sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood beside
+their chief within the walls of Leybourn.
+
+Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castle
+until a maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a sudden
+corner and bumped full into the Outlaw of Torn. With a shriek that might
+have been heard at Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone floor and,
+turning, ran, still shrieking at the top of her lungs, straight for the
+great dining hall.
+
+So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had the
+guests arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of the
+girl than Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty drawn
+swords at his back.
+
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants and
+men-at-arms. Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of the
+party saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a blow
+could be struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right hand,
+raised his left aloft in a gesture for silence.
+
+“Hold!” he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn, “I have
+no quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest within thy
+halls. Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as didst
+thy fair lady.”
+
+“Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, and
+makes bold to insult my guests?” demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+
+“Who be I! If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yon
+grinning baboon,” replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at one
+who had been seated close to De Leybourn.
+
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlaw
+indicated, and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man. With
+livid face he stood, leaning for support against the table; his craven
+knees wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apart
+against his yellow teeth in a horrid grimace of awful fear.
+
+“If you recognize me not, Sir Roger,” said Norman of Torn, drily, “it is
+evident that your honored guest hath a better memory.”
+
+At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes never
+left the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed the
+master of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated falsetto:
+
+“Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him! Do you wish to live another
+moment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, and
+there be a great price upon his head.
+
+“Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me,” he ended in a
+pitiful wail.
+
+The Devil of Torn! How that name froze the hearts of the assembled
+guests.
+
+The Devil of Torn! Slowly the men standing there at the board of Sir
+Roger de Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name.
+
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of a
+sepulchre, and then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table.
+She had seen the mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her
+mate.
+
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+
+“Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls of
+Leybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great service
+for the house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest.
+But a moment since, you said that you had no quarrel with me. Then why
+be you here? Speak! Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the master
+of Leybourn greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand or
+naked sword?”
+
+“I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me.
+And when I go, I take part of him with me. I be in a great hurry, so I
+would prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, without
+interference; but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong within
+your walls, and nigh a thousand lie without. What say you, My Lord?”
+
+“Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that you
+search him out thus within a day's ride from the army of the King who
+has placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who be
+equally your enemies.”
+
+“I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax,” replied the outlaw.
+“What my grievance be matters not. Norman of Torn acts first and
+explains afterward, if he cares to explain at all. Come forth, Peter of
+Colfax, and for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may save
+your friends here from the fate that has found you at last after two
+years of patient waiting.”
+
+Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to the
+center of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made;
+the men of the party forming a circle, in the center of which stood
+Peter of Colfax and Norman of Torn.
+
+“Give him a great draught of brandy,” said the outlaw, “or he will sink
+down and choke in the froth of his own terror.”
+
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter of
+Colfax regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his sword
+arm and defend himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and the
+primal instinct of self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a more
+and more creditable fight, until those who watched thought that he might
+indeed have a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn. But they did not
+know that Norman of Torn was but playing with his victim, that he might
+make the torture long, drawn out, and wreak as terrible a punishment
+upon Peter of Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron had visited
+upon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield to his base
+desires.
+
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of the
+fascinating drama that was being enacted before them.
+
+“God, what a swordsman!” muttered one.
+
+“Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword was
+drawn from the first scabbard!” replied Roger de Leybourn. “Is it not
+marvellous!”
+
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces;
+little by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for loss
+of blood, the man was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch
+his victim's face with his gleaming sword. That he was saving for the
+fulfillment of his design.
+
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was no
+marrowless antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn. Furiously he
+fought; in the extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with
+frenzied agony. Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow.
+
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like,
+in his victim's face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a
+thin vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to ooze
+ere another swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow to
+parallel the first.
+
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax,
+until the watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the seal
+of death, in letters of blood--NT.
+
+It was the end. Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like the
+maniac he had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw of
+Torn was upon his brow. Now, shrieking and gibbering through his frothy
+lips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed full
+upon Norman of Torn. There was a flash of the great sword as the outlaw
+swung it to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that passed
+above the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the grinning head rolled
+upon the floor, while the loathsome carcass, that had been a baron of
+England, sunk in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the great hall of
+the castle of Leybourn.
+
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests. Some one broke
+into hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn,
+wiping his blade upon the rushes of the floor as he had done upon
+another occasion in that same hall, spoke quietly to the master of
+Leybourn.
+
+“I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or a
+mightier one in its stead.”
+
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few words
+of instructions, to one of his men.
+
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it upon
+the golden platter.
+
+“I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality,” said Norman of Torn,
+with a low bow which included the spellbound guests. “Adieu.” Thus
+followed by his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the
+platter of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and from
+the castle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain of
+many days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into camp
+that night; nor did he again take up his march until the second morning,
+three days after the battle of Lewes.
+
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester's castle, where he
+had reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though it
+galled his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting his
+coming, he could not do less than that which he felt his honor demanded.
+
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the wiry,
+gray little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father.
+
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, had
+the old fellow changed in all these years. Without bodily vices, and
+clinging ever to the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was still
+young in muscle and endurance.
+
+For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but he
+constantly practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so that
+it had become a subject often discussed among the men as to which of the
+two, father or son, was the greater swordsman.
+
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence. Long since
+had Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character and
+masterful ways, the position of authority in the castle of Torn. The old
+man simply rode and fought with the others when it pleased him; and he
+had come on this trip because he felt that there was that impending for
+which he had waited over twenty years.
+
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called “my
+son.” If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one of
+pride which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil's
+mighty sword arm.
+
+The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guard
+halted a party bound south upon a crossroad. There were some twenty or
+thirty men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights.
+
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of the
+party was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently a
+person of distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+
+“Who are you,” said the gentleman, in French, “that stops a prince of
+France upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal? Are you
+of the King's forces, or De Montfort's?”
+
+“Be this Prince Philip of France?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“Yes, but who be you?”
+
+“And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?” continued the
+outlaw, ignoring the Prince's question.
+
+“Yes, an it be any of your affair,” replied Philip curtly.
+
+“It be,” said the Devil of Torn, “for I be a friend of My Lady Bertrade,
+and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands of roving
+soldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with so
+small an escort. Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de Montfort
+ride with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur may arrive
+there safely.”
+
+“It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget. But,
+again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France?”
+
+“Norman of Torn, they call me,” replied the outlaw.
+
+“Indeed!” cried Philip. “The great and bloody outlaw?” Upon his handsome
+face there was no look of fear or repugnance.
+
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+
+“Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for
+himself,” he said, “if he rides in such company?”
+
+“My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than saint,”
+ said the Prince. “They have told me of how you saved the daughter of De
+Montfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you,
+and to thank you. It had been my intention to ride to Torn for that
+purpose so soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all our
+plans by his victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simon
+de Montfort and the King are to be today. The Queen also is there
+with her retinue, so it be expected that, to show the good feeling and
+renewed friendship existing between De Montfort and his King, there will
+be gay scenes in the old fortress. But,” he added, after a pause, “dare
+the Outlaw of Torn ride within reach of the King who has placed a price
+upon his head?”
+
+“The price has been there since I was eighteen,” answered Norman of
+Torn, “and yet my head be where it has always been. Can you blame me
+if I look with levity upon the King's price? It be not heavy enough to
+weigh me down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in all
+England. I am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisoner
+today.”
+
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torn
+grew to like this brave and handsome gentleman. In his heart was no
+rancor because of the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Norman
+of Torn was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy.
+It not only held her happiness above his own, but the happiness and
+welfare of the man she loved, as well.
+
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid the
+prince adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, he
+said:
+
+“May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade? It is in
+reference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, for
+the first time, be able to fulfill.”
+
+“Certainly, my friend,” replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting, called
+upon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch,
+wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missive
+to the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment. Opening
+it, she read:
+
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn.
+
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in
+friendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor.
+
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battel
+this night.
+
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I know
+that you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendship
+which he bears you.
+
+My camp lies without the city's gates, and your messenger will have safe
+conduct whatever reply he bears to,
+
+Norman of Torn.
+
+Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she thought of that moment
+of terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle of
+Peter of Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devil
+of Torn. And then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful chivalry,
+nay, almost tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester.
+
+What a strange contradiction of a man! She wondered if he would come
+with lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that lay
+behind the cold, steel mask. She would ask him this night to let her see
+his face, or would that be cruel? For, did they not say that it was
+from the very ugliness of it that he kept his helm closed to hide the
+repulsive sight from the eyes of men!
+
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two years
+before, she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn.
+
+In the great hall that night as the King's party sat at supper, Philip
+of France, addressing Henry, said:
+
+“And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today,
+that I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway?”
+
+“Some of our good friends from Kent?” asked the King.
+
+“Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price,
+Norman of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteous
+and pleasant gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmed
+through your realm that I may add to my list of pleasant acquaintances.”
+
+“The Devil of Torn?” asked Henry, incredulously. “Some one be hoaxing
+you.”
+
+“Nay, Your Majesty, I think not,” replied Philip, “for he was indeed a
+grim and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and awe-inspiring
+a pack as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong they
+rode. They be camped not far without the city now.”
+
+“My Lord,” said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, “be it not time
+that England were rid of this devil's spawn and his hellish brood?
+Though I presume,” he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, “that it
+may prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn upon his
+companion in arms.”
+
+“I owe him nothing,” returned the Earl haughtily, “by his own word.”
+
+“You owe him victory at Lewes,” snapped the King. “It were indeed a
+sad commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing lieges
+who turned their arms against our royal person, 'to save him from the
+treachery of his false advisers,' that they called upon a cutthroat
+outlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in their 'righteous
+cause'.”
+
+“My Lord King,” cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, “I called not
+upon this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles of
+Lewes until I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day.
+Neither did I know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fall
+upon baron or royalist.”
+
+“If that be the truth, Leicester,” said the King, with a note of
+skepticism which he made studiously apparent, “hang the dog. He be just
+without the city even now.”
+
+“You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be
+hanged, hanged he shall be,” replied De Montfort.
+
+“A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains
+to catch him, Leicester,” said the King.
+
+“A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,” replied De Montfort.
+
+“And not,” thought Philip of France, “if I know it, shall the brave
+Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow.”
+
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and
+forth waiting an answer to his message.
+
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the
+outlaw knew full well that he had put his head within the lion's jaw
+when he had ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had no
+faith in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the
+King would urge when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers
+naked back to London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King's
+message, and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was within
+reach of the army of De Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not
+relish pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand
+within a walled fortress.
+
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his
+rough band would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great to
+enter the castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if he
+died there, it would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had
+set himself to do this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would were
+all the armies of the world camped within Battel.
+
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who
+presently appeared escorting a lackey.
+
+“A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort,” said the soldier.
+
+“Bring him hither,” commanded the outlaw.
+
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment
+sealed with scented wax wafers.
+
+“Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?” asked the outlaw.
+
+“I am to wait, My Lord,” replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the
+service had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to
+bear a message to the Devil.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals,
+read the message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple.
+
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where I
+be.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the
+ground beside an object covered with a cloth.
+
+“Come, Flory,” he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, “lead
+on.”
+
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Torn
+and last the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the object
+covered with a cloth. But it was not Flory who brought up the rear.
+Flory lay dead in the shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thin
+wound below his left shoulder blade marked the spot where a keen dagger
+had found its way to his heart, and in his place walked the little grim,
+gray, old man, bearing the object covered with a cloth. But none might
+know the difference, for the little man wore the armor of Flory, and his
+visor was drawn.
+
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall where
+the shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doubly
+black. Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up winding
+stairways until presently he stopped before a low door.
+
+“Here,” he said, “My Lord,” and turning left them.
+
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his right
+hand, and a low voice from within whispered, “Enter.”
+
+Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off a
+large hall. At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burning
+brightly, while a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the
+austere chamber. In the center of the room was a table, and at the sides
+several benches.
+
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone.
+
+“Place your burden upon this table, Flory,” said Norman of Torn. And
+when it had been done: “You may go. Return to camp.”
+
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed behind
+the little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory and
+then Norman of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left hand
+ungauntleted, resting upon the table's edge.
+
+“My Lady Bertrade,” he said at last, “I have come to fulfill a promise.”
+
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice. Before,
+Norman of Torn had always spoken in English. Where had she heard that
+voice! There were tones in it that haunted her.
+
+“What promise did Norman of Torn e'er make to Bertrade de Montfort?” she
+asked. “I do not understand you, my friend.”
+
+“Look,” he said. And as she approached the table he withdrew the cloth
+which covered the object that the man had placed there.
+
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon a
+golden platter was a man's head; horrid with the grin of death baring
+yellow fangs.
+
+“Dost recognize the thing?” asked the outlaw. And then she did; but
+still she could not comprehend. At last, slowly, there came back to her
+the idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her
+enemy to the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that! It was all a sore
+puzzle to her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim, visored
+figure of the Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside the
+grisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the great
+ring she had tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two years before.
+
+What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it was
+impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there upon
+the platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters of
+dried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death--NT!
+
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw's hand, and then
+up to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon her
+breast, the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed
+slightly as might one who has just arisen from a great illness.
+
+“Your visor,” she whispered, “raise your visor.” And then, as though to
+herself: “It cannot be; it cannot be.”
+
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and
+there before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.
+
+“Mon Dieu!” she cried, “Tell me it is but a cruel joke.”
+
+“It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade,” said Norman of Torn sadly.
+And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised
+arms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said
+sadly:
+
+“And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heart
+went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation
+could come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was
+returned; and so I waited until you might forget the words you had
+spoken to Roger de Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that you
+should know him in his true colors.
+
+“It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. God
+knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very
+attitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your
+heart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against
+me because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to the
+Devil of Torn.
+
+“I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I know
+you never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always be
+with loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+
+“I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, and
+with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.
+
+“Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. The
+hand that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it
+as guide.
+
+“The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came from
+a heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continue
+to beat for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in
+a wasted and useless life.
+
+“Farewell, Bertrade.” Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to his
+lips.
+
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this proud
+daughter of the new conqueror of England. The anger of an outraged
+confidence, gratitude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor,
+hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kinsmen, respect and
+honor for the marvellous courage of the man, loathing and contempt for
+the base born, the memory of that exalted moment when those handsome
+lips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a champion who
+dared come alone among twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a promise
+made her; but stronger than all the rest, two stood out before her
+mind's eye like living things--the degradation of his low birth, and
+the memory of the great love she had cherished all these long and dreary
+months.
+
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl's breast. In those few
+brief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade de
+Montfort that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached her
+final resolution she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman who,
+with the weight of a mature deliberation, had chosen the path which she
+would travel to the end--to the final goal, however sweet or however
+bitter.
+
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet, and,
+taking the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised him
+to his feet. In silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger,
+and then she lifted her eyes to his.
+
+“Keep the ring, Norman of Torn,” she said. “The friendship of Bertrade
+de Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away,” she hesitated,
+“nor is her love.”
+
+“What do you mean?” he whispered. For in her eyes was that wondrous
+light he had seen there on that other day in the far castle of
+Leicester.
+
+“I mean,” she answered, “that, Roger de Conde or Norman of Torn,
+gentleman or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de Montfort--it
+be thee I love; thee!”
+
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised,
+for he had expected the worst; but that she should love him! Oh God, had
+his overwrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dreaming this thing,
+only to awaken to the cold and awful truth!
+
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath that
+fanned his cheek; these were no dream!
+
+“Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade?” he cried. “Dost forget that
+I be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning even
+the identity of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world with such
+a man for husband?”
+
+“I know what I say, perfectly,” she answered. “Were thou born out of
+wedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I love
+thee, and honor thee, and cleave to thee. Where thou be, Norman of Torn,
+there shall be happiness for me. Thy friends shall be my friends; thy
+joys shall be my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies, even
+mine own father, shall be my enemies.
+
+“Why it is, my Norman, I know not. Only do I know that I didst often
+question my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
+thee--oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that
+this heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of
+Torn?”
+
+“I do not know,” he said simply and gravely. “So wonderful a thing be
+beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it
+is sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I were
+like to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness.”
+
+“Sh!” she whispered, suddenly, “methinks I hear footsteps. They must not
+find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night wrung
+a promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee. What
+shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?”
+
+“We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee
+to gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest north
+tonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall
+make us one.”
+
+“I am glad thee wish it,” she replied. “I feared that, for some reason,
+thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait here, I
+will be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this door,”
+ and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little room,
+“thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoining
+apartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes.”
+
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself
+away from danger.
+
+“For my sake,” she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and she ran
+swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth
+upon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did
+not return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+
+Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a
+trifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between
+Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.
+
+As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love for
+the Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.
+
+“It will be better than I had hoped,” he muttered, “and easier. 'S blood!
+How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole proud heart
+in the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime revenge! I have
+waited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow thou struck
+that day, but the return shall be an hundred-fold increased by long
+accumulated interest.”
+
+Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and corridors,
+until he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and the King, with
+Philip of France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+
+Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the room
+and, addressing the King, cried:
+
+“Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where a
+few men may seize him.”
+
+“What now! What now!” ejaculated Henry. “What madman be this?”
+
+“I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or to
+more certain ends,” replied the man.
+
+“It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself,” cried De
+Montfort.
+
+“Where be the knave?” asked Henry.
+
+“He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughter
+of My Lord Earl of Leicester. Even now she did but tell him that she
+loved him.”
+
+“Hold,” cried De Montfort. “Hold fast thy foul tongue. What meanest thou
+by uttering such lies, and to my very face?”
+
+“They be no lies, Simon de Montfort. An I tell thee that Roger de Conde
+and Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak no
+lie.”
+
+De Montfort paled.
+
+“Where be the craven wretch?” he demanded.
+
+“Come,” said the little, old man. And turning, he led from the hall,
+closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the others.
+
+“Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men--thou'lt need them all to
+take Norman of Torn,” he advised De Montfort. And so as they passed the
+guard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard the
+tramping of many feet. They seemed approaching up the dim corridor that
+led to the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+
+Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand upon
+the latch, waited. Yes, they were coming that way, many of them and
+quickly and, as he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras and
+pushed open the door behind him; backing into the other apartment just
+as Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, burst into the room from the
+opposite side.
+
+At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and,
+turning, he faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queen
+of England and another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their
+ladies.
+
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even had
+there been where to run. Slowly, he backed away from the door toward a
+corner where, with his back against a wall and a table at his right,
+he might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that he
+could hope for no quarter from the men who had him cornered there like a
+great bear in a trap.
+
+With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man,
+even though that man were the Devil of Torn.
+
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and were
+within the room where the outlaw stood at bay.
+
+At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddled
+together, while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemen
+and as many men-at-arms.
+
+“What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort, angrily.
+“Where be my daughter, Bertrade?”
+
+“I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs,” replied Norman
+of Torn, “which be the affair of no other man. As to your daughter: I
+know nothing of her whereabouts. What should she have to do with the
+Devil of Torn, My Lord?”
+
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+
+“He lies,” shouted he. “Her kisses be yet wet upon his lips.”
+
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was now
+partly raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty years, he
+had called father.
+
+He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery and
+harm from him? No, he could not believe it. One of them must have gone
+mad. But why Flory's armor and where was the faithful Flory?
+
+“Father!” he ejaculated, “leadest thou the hated English King against
+thine own son?”
+
+“Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn,” retorted the old man. “Thy
+days of usefulness to me be past. Tonight thou serve me best swinging
+from a wooden gibbet. Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a good
+strong gibbet in the courtyard below.”
+
+“Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort.
+
+“Yes,” was the reply, “when this floor be ankle deep in English blood
+and my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender.”
+
+“Come, come,” cried the King. “Let your men take the dog, De Montfort!”
+
+“Have at him, then,” ordered the Earl, turning toward the waiting
+men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon the
+doomed outlaw.
+
+But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushed
+forward in a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared against
+one.
+
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn. It was grim battle and
+his only hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before he
+himself went down.
+
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and as
+quickly as he might. And to those who watched, it was as though the
+young officer of the Guard had not come within reach of that terrible
+blade ere he lay dead upon the floor, and then the point of death
+passed into the lungs of one of the men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere it
+pierced the heart of a third.
+
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of that
+mighty arm. Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack, a
+girlish figure, clothed in a long riding cloak, burst through the little
+knot of men as they stood facing their lone antagonist.
+
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfort
+threw herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonished
+company of king, prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her full
+height, and with all the pride of race and blood that was her right of
+heritage from a French king on her father's side and an English king on
+her mother's, she flashed her defiance and contempt in the single word:
+
+“Cowards!”
+
+“What means this, girl?” demanded De Montfort, “Art gone stark mad? Know
+thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?”
+
+“If I had not before known it, My Lord,” she replied haughtily, “it
+would be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack a
+lone man. What other man in all England could stand thus against forty?
+A lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet.”
+
+“Enough, girl,” cried the King, “what be this knave to thee?”
+
+“He loves me, Your Majesty,” she replied proudly, “and I, him.”
+
+“Thou lov'st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade,” cried Henry. “Thou,
+a De Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen this murderer's
+accursed mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunt
+his defiance in the King's, thy uncle's, face, and bend his whole life
+to preying upon thy people; thou lov'st this monster?”
+
+“I love him, My Lord King.”
+
+“Thou lov'st him, Bertrade?” asked Philip of France in a low tone,
+pressing nearer to the girl.
+
+“Yes, Philip,” she said, a little note of sadness and finality in her
+voice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.
+
+Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, and
+facing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of
+Torn.
+
+“That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen,” he said.
+“Who takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of France
+as well.”
+
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other's shoulder.
+
+“No, thou must not do this thing, my friend,” he said. “It be my fight
+and I will fight it alone. Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee,
+out of harm's way.”
+
+As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together, and,
+at a word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the attack
+again. It was a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two could
+not fight with the girl between them and their adversaries. And thus,
+by weight of numbers, they took Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince away
+from Norman of Torn without a blow being struck, and then the little,
+grim, gray, old man stepped forward.
+
+“There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can,
+alone, take Norman of Torn,” he said, addressing the King, “and that
+sword be mine. Keep thy cattle back, out of my way.” And, without
+waiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom for
+twenty years he had called son.
+
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, and
+there, in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of Battel,
+was fought such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor is it
+credible that its like was ever fought before or since.
+
+The world's two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil--the one with the
+strength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray fox,
+and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of blood
+and hate before them--thrust and parried and cut until those that gazed
+awestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in the
+tensity of their wonder.
+
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come to
+kill pressed back to make room for the contestants. Now was the young
+man forcing his older foeman more and more upon the defensive. Slowly,
+but as sure as death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory.
+The old man saw it too. He had devoted years of his life to training
+that mighty sword arm that it might deal out death to others, and
+now--ah! The grim justice of the retribution he, at last, was to fall
+before its diabolical cunning.
+
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wily
+Frenchman saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt its
+cold breath condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and so he
+cast about for any means whereby he might escape the result of his rash
+venture.
+
+Presently he saw his opportunity. Norman of Torn stood beside the body
+of one of his earlier antagonists. Slowly the old man worked around
+until the body lay directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final
+rally and one great last burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushed
+Norman of Torn back for a bare step--it was enough. The outlaw's foot
+struck the prostrate corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant his
+sword arm rose, ever so little, as he strove to retain his equilibrium;
+but that little was enough. It was what the gray old snake had expected,
+and he was ready. Like lightning, his sword shot through the opening,
+and, for the first time in his life of continual combat and death,
+Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh. But ere he fell, his
+sword responded to the last fierce command of that iron will, and as his
+body sank limply to the floor, rolling with outstretched arms, upon its
+back, the little, grim, gray man went down also, clutching frantically
+at a gleaming blade buried in his chest.
+
+For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and then
+Bertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of her
+father, rushed to the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved.
+Kneeling there beside him she called his name aloud, as she unlaced
+his helm. Tearing the steel headgear from him, she caressed his face,
+kissing the white forehead and the still lips.
+
+“Oh God! Oh God!” she murmured. “Why hast thou taken him? Outlaw though
+he was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of true
+manhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+
+“I do not wonder that he preyed upon you,” she cried, turning upon the
+knights behind her. “His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyal
+to his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all; and
+ever be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink deeper
+into the mud. Mon Dieu! How I hate you,” she finished. And as she spoke
+the words, Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of her
+father.
+
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad, kindly
+man, and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of anger.
+
+“Come, child,” said the King, “thou art distraught; thou sayest what
+thou mean not. The world is better that this man be dead. He was an
+enemy of organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows. Life in
+England will be safer after this day. Do not weep over the clay of a
+nameless adventurer who knew not his own father.”
+
+Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting posture.
+He was not dead. Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his frame was
+racked with suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils.
+
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak. Weakly he motioned toward
+the King. Henry came toward him.
+
+“Thou hast won thy sovereign's gratitude, my man,” said the King,
+kindly. “What be thy name?”
+
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on another
+paroxysm of coughing. At last he managed to whisper.
+
+“Look--at--me. Dost thou--not--remember me?
+The--foils--the--blow--twenty-long-years. Thou--spat--upon--me.”
+
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+
+“De Vac!” he exclaimed.
+
+The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn.
+
+“Outlaw--highwayman--scourge--of--England. Look--upon--his--face.
+Open--his tunic--left--breast.”
+
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a final
+effort: “De--Vac's--revenge. God--damn--the--English,” and slipped
+forward upon the rushes, dead.
+
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen. They stood looking
+into each other's eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed an
+eternity, before any dared to move; and then, as though they feared what
+they should see, they bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for the
+first time.
+
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up
+to hers.
+
+“Edward!” she whispered.
+
+“Not Edward, Madame,” said De Montfort, “but--”
+
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay the
+unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to the
+waiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands,
+tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide the
+tunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.
+
+“Oh God!” he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the body
+of her second born, crying out:
+
+“Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!” And as she bent still lower to kiss the
+lily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for
+over twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her
+ear to his breast.
+
+“He lives!” she almost shrieked. “Quick, Henry, our son lives!”
+
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of
+France had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on
+his arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being
+enacted at her feet.
+
+Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness.
+Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor,
+knelt Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his
+hands.
+
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought the
+Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting
+against one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see whom
+it might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon
+whose breast his head rested.
+
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a very
+terrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why
+could he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyes
+wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standing
+uncovered and with bowed heads about him. Presently he found her.
+
+“Bertrade!” he whispered.
+
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.
+
+“Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream.”
+
+“I be very real, dear heart,” she answered, “and these others be real,
+also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing
+that has happened. These who wert thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy
+best friends now--that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peace
+until thou be better.”
+
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faint
+sigh.
+
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen's, and all that
+night the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing
+his fevered forehead. The King's chirurgeon was there also, while the
+King and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses,
+or in the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is found
+again be always the best beloved.
+
+Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep;
+the fever and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health and
+iron constitution. The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+
+“You had best retire, ladies,” he said, “and rest. The Prince will
+live.”
+
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands on
+the part of the King's chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+
+“I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince,” urged the chirurgeon.
+
+“Why call thou me prince?” asked Norman of Torn.
+
+“There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee,”
+ replied the chirurgeon, “and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt,
+thou mayst see her, My Lord.”
+
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to a
+sentry who stood just without. The sentry transmitted the message to a
+young squire who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown
+open again from without, and a voice announced:
+
+“Her Majesty, the Queen!”
+
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came back
+to him the scene in the Queen's apartment the night before. It was all a
+sore perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he attempt to.
+
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward him
+across the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant
+with happiness and love.
+
+“Richard, my son!” exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his face
+in her hands and kissing him.
+
+“Madame!” exclaimed the surprised man. “Be all the world gone crazy?”
+
+And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince of
+England.
+
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his and
+raising it to his lips.
+
+“I did not know, Madame,” he said, “or never would my sword have been
+bared in other service than thine. If thou canst forgive me, Madame,
+never can I forgive myself.”
+
+“Take it not so hard, my son,” said Eleanor of England. “It be no fault
+of thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and rejoicing
+should we feel, now that thou be found again.”
+
+“Forgiveness!” said a man's voice behind them. “Forsooth, it be we
+that should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son with swords and
+halters.
+
+“Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who sent
+the King's army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King's message
+down his messenger's throat.
+
+“By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King's son, an' though
+we made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee now.”
+
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the King
+standing behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and
+greeted his father.
+
+“They be sorry jokes, Sire,” he said. “Methinks it had been better had
+Richard remained lost. It will do the honor of the Plantagenets but
+little good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood.”
+
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King of
+England to wipe the great name from the pages of history--perhaps a
+jealous king.
+
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of the
+chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he had
+done so they left him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the
+door closed behind them than he arose and left the apartment by another
+exit.
+
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom he
+was searching. She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression half
+sad upon her beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached, and
+he stood there for several moments watching her dear profile, and the
+rising and falling of her bosom over that true and loyal heart that
+had beaten so proudly against all the power of a mighty throne for the
+despised Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense which
+warns us that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our ears
+hear, caused her to turn.
+
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner of
+the court, said:
+
+“What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor subject?”
+ And then, more gravely, “My Lord, I have been raised at court, and I
+understand that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget what
+passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.”
+
+“Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal precedents,” he
+replied, “for he will wed not rashly, but most wisely, since he will wed
+none but Bertrade de Montfort.” And he who had been the Outlaw of Torn
+took the fair young girl in his arms, adding: “If she still loves me,
+now that I be a prince?”
+
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers.
+
+“It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince I
+love now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman--it be thee I
+love, dear heart--just thee.”
+
+
+*****
+
+
+The following changes have been made:
+
+     PAGE  LINE  ORIGINAL     CHANGED TO
+       17    17  merks        marks
+       554   ertswhile        erstwhile
+       591   so so            do so
+       90    26  beats        beasts
+       934   presntly         presently
+      124    20  rescurer     rescuer
+      171    27  walls.”      walls.
+      1843   gnetlemen        gentlemen
+      185    20  fored,       formed,
+      1866   to forces        the forces
+      195    19  those father whose father
+      2172   precipitably     precipitately
+      2175   litle            little
+      221    30  Monfort      Montfort
+      230    30  Montforth    Montfort
+      245    15  muderer's    murderer's
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The only changes that have been made to this text by Publisher's Choice
+Books and its General Manager/Editor have been the removal of all
+word-breaking hyphenation, and the occasional addition of a comma to
+separate certain phrases. These changes were effected merely to increase
+the Reader's reading ease and enjoyment of the text.
+
+The following spelling changes were effected within the text for reasons
+of clarity:
+
+“chid” to “chide” “sword play” to “swordplay” “subtile” to “subtle”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
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diff --git a/old/369.txt b/old/369.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Outlaw of Torn
+
+Author: Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+Release Date: July 8, 2008 [EBook #369]
+Last updated: February 12, 2012
+Last updated: August 31, 2012
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTLAW OF TORN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judith Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTLAW OF TORN
+
+By Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+
+To My Friend
+
+JOSEPH E. BRAY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years. At first
+it was suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England. Later it
+was forgotten. I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident being
+the relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain Father Superior in a
+very ancient monastery in Europe.
+
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts
+and I came across this. It is very interesting--partially since it is a
+bit of hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that
+it records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous
+life of its innocent victim--Richard, the lost prince of England.
+
+In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. What
+interested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves--the
+visored horseman who--but let us wait until we get to him.
+
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening,
+it shook England from north to south and from east to west; and reached
+across the channel and shook France. It started, directly, in the London
+palace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the King
+and his powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.
+
+Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can read all about it at
+your leisure. But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243, Henry
+so forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason in
+the presence of a number of the King's gentlemen.
+
+De Montfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himself
+to his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of his
+wrath, as he did that day, he was very imposing. A power in England,
+second only to the King himself, and with the heart of a lion in him, he
+answered the King as no other man in all England would have dared answer
+him.
+
+"My Lord King," he cried, "that you be my Lord King alone prevents Simon
+de Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult. That
+you take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare say
+were you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you a
+coward."
+
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers as
+these awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to his
+king. They were horrified, for De Montfort's bold challenge was to them
+but little short of sacrilege.
+
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon De
+Montfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he
+thought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty
+sneer, turned to his courtiers.
+
+"Come, my gentlemen," he said, "methought that we were to have a turn
+with the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, De Fulm! Come,
+Leybourn!" and the King left the apartment followed by his gentlemen,
+all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it became
+apparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him. As the
+arras fell behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his broad
+shoulders, and turning, left the apartment by another door.
+
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still
+smarting from the humiliation of De Montfort's reproaches, and as he
+laid aside his surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm,
+his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was
+advancing with the King's foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for
+fencing with De Fulm, who, like the other sycophants that surrounded
+him, always allowed the King easily to best him in every encounter.
+
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit
+himself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry
+felt that he could best the devil himself.
+
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the
+guard room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that it
+had light from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled,
+leather-skinned Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to
+face him in mimic combat with the foils, for the King wished to go with
+hammer and tongs at someone to vent his suppressed rage.
+
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person of the hated De
+Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an early
+and mortifying defeat by the King's sudden and clever attack.
+
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day
+he quite outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run
+the pseudo De Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his
+audience. For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac twice
+around the hall when, with a clever feint, and backward step, the master
+of fence drew the King into the position he wanted him, and with the
+suddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry's weapon
+clanging across the floor of the armory.
+
+For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand of
+death had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers.
+The episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the best
+swordsman in England--for that surely was no disgrace--to Henry it
+seemed prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should
+stand face to face with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in De
+Vac only the creature of his imagination with which he had vested the
+likeness of his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like
+to have done to the real Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced
+close to De Vac.
+
+"Dog!" he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow across
+the face, and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode from
+the armory.
+
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he
+hated all things English and all Englishmen. The dead King John, though
+hated by all others, he had loved, but with the dead King's bones De
+Vac's loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral of
+Worcester.
+
+During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court,
+the sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only
+De Vac could teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in the
+discharge of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred and
+contempt for his pupils.
+
+And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might only
+be wiped out by blood.
+
+As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, and
+throwing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue
+before his master. White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he
+spoke no word.
+
+He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left to
+him no alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fight
+with a lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live--the king's
+honor must be satisfied.
+
+Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and gloried
+in the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France; but an
+English King--pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De Vac would
+find other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would revel in
+revenge against this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If possible, he
+would harm the whole of England if he could, but he would bide his time.
+He could afford to wait for his opportunity if, by waiting, he could
+encompass a more terrible revenge.
+
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed the
+best swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footsteps
+of his father until, on the latter's death, he could easily claim the
+title of his sire. How he had left France and entered the service of
+John of England is not of this story. All the bearing that the life of
+Jules de Vac has upon the history of England hinges upon but two of his
+many attributes--his wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for
+his adopted country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, on
+the third day following the King's affront to De Vac, might have been a
+seen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroidered
+with gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves,
+which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of the
+garment. A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones,
+and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garment
+about her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdle
+after the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger of
+beautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimple
+of violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head and
+shoulders.
+
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like his
+companion, in gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was rich
+with embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white
+silk. His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were
+cross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On the
+back of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which a
+single plume of white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proud
+little head.
+
+The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave
+an expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have
+been too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked with
+his companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, which
+sat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to
+turn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she could
+scarce repress.
+
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little
+bush near them, said, "Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I
+would play at toss."
+
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place
+and turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they played
+beneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the
+ball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he
+made a particularly good catch.
+
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim,
+gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in
+a malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
+
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely
+young woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was
+working out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+
+For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for
+some means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry had
+put upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd
+and cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of the
+terrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded.
+
+His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled
+political conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he might
+wrest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses
+and to the harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King.
+
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory
+when the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac had
+heard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that could
+well be turned to the King's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy.
+
+With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the
+terms of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with his
+kingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vac
+had gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: that
+Henry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries,
+and with Louis IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights and
+men-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons that he might
+effectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the royal
+prerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England.
+
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: the
+point of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first point
+of attack. Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in
+this venture so dear to his heart!
+
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their
+retainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces.
+
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he was
+beholden for his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons would
+depose Henry, and place a new king upon England's throne, and then De
+Vac would mock the Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectable
+vengeance, indeed! And the old man licked his thin lips as though to
+taste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel.
+
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where
+the old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, De
+Vac's eyes fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as the
+fog before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him the
+whole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ upon
+the leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him. And,
+in so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the details
+of that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the twenty
+years which followed.
+
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal
+father was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of
+England. No published history mentions this little lost prince; only the
+secret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strange
+and adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the records of men;
+and the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of the world; though
+in his time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of the
+English.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in the
+gardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of his
+tiny life with his nurses and governesses.
+
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repair
+to the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a little
+postern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom the
+Queen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
+
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and
+plans, unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowers
+and shrubbery of the garden.
+
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had managed
+to coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to the
+little postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnight
+escapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner of
+his adventure, and, what was more to the point with Brus, at the same
+time slipping a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm.
+
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainer
+of the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac might be
+up to, Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, the
+key to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands as though Henry
+himself had it.
+
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence
+should, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more
+befitting the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern was
+it of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardens
+so that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shaded
+walks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants and
+blooming flowers which he set with such wondrous precision in the formal
+garden?
+
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this;
+and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take this
+means of rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he to
+ignore the divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac the
+key, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of his royal
+father's garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it should have
+been.
+
+That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side of
+London; one who could not possibly know him or recognize the key
+as belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waiting
+impatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments of
+his time.
+
+From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanes
+and alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional
+smoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance
+from the palace.
+
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of the
+Thames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of the
+river rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath
+the dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dock
+rats and their fiercer human antitypes.
+
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search of
+the little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it,
+and, after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened
+by a slatternly old hag.
+
+"What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?" she grumbled.
+"Ah, 'tis ye, my lord?" she added, hastily, as the flickering rays of
+the candle she bore lighted up De Vac's face. "Welcome, my Lord, thrice
+welcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother."
+
+"Silence, old hag," cried De Vac. "Is it not enough that you leech me
+of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles
+of villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs
+burden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?
+
+"Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate
+to perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had
+delivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and
+cobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the dead
+Romans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too, from
+the stink, they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty with
+their herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broom
+to the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin."
+
+"Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan," cried the woman. "I would rather hear
+thy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted from
+thy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice
+as it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
+
+"The bundle is ready," she continued, closing the door after De Vac, who
+had now entered, "and here be the key; but first let us have a payment.
+I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from the
+secrecy which you have demanded, an' I dare say there will be some who
+would pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child,
+thy sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious to
+hide away in old Til's garret. So it be well for you, my Lord, to pay
+old Til well and add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if you
+would that your prisoner find peace in old Til's house."
+
+"Fetch me the bundle, hag," replied De Vac, "and you shall have gold
+against a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goes
+well and thou holdest thy vile tongue."
+
+But the old woman's threats had already caused De Vac a feeling of
+uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in
+the old woman had she known the determination her words had caused in
+the mind of the old master of fence.
+
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure too
+fraught with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyal
+fellow-conspirator. True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of the
+plot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, his
+stern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions, and
+with them her curiosity and cupidity. So it was that old Til might well
+have quailed in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessed
+the thoughts which passed in De Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieces
+he dropped into her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him,
+together with the promise of more, quite effectually won her loyalty and
+her silence for the time being.
+
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle
+with his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alley
+and hastened toward the dock.
+
+Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlier
+in the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.
+Then, casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palace
+walls, he moored near to the little postern gate which let into the
+lower end of the garden.
+
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to
+the water's edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty of
+the aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and,
+unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
+
+The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old man
+that he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convinced
+him of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose
+youth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames might
+find lodgement for rheumatism.
+
+"Ha, Sir Jules," laughed the old gardener, "Virtue and Vice be twin
+sisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.
+Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man
+desires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of his
+desire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires his
+own wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not
+that likewise virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtain
+our desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, then
+it were virtue to remain at home."
+
+"Right you sound, old mole," said De Vac, smiling, "would that I might
+learn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me in
+good stead before I be much older."
+
+"The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the
+sword, I should think," said Brus, returning to his work.
+
+That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking out
+upon the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two
+hundred yards away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth,
+sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while here
+and there marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in
+the brilliant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, took
+on a semblance of life from the riotous play of light and shadow as the
+leaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in the
+distance, the river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, and
+the formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by a
+background of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees and
+flowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder.
+
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stone
+benches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swings
+suspended from the branches of fruit trees.
+
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and her
+little charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher in
+the window behind them.
+
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as
+Richard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the little
+postern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had
+been waiting without. Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm to
+the little bower which was their trysting place.
+
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince played
+happily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern,
+determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distance
+from the playing boy.
+
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly
+which fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in the
+bushes. Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in another
+moment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing the
+implacable master of fence.
+
+"Your Highness," said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, "let old
+DeVac help you catch the pretty insect."
+
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so together
+they started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed out
+of sight. De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate,
+but when he would have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latter
+rebelled.
+
+"Come, My Lord Prince," urged De Vac, "methinks the butterfly did but
+alight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden in
+an instant."
+
+"Go thyself and fetch it," replied the Prince; "the King, my father, has
+forbid me stepping without the palace grounds."
+
+"Come," commanded De Vac, more sternly, "no harm can come to you."
+
+But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac was
+forced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and
+alarm from the royal child.
+
+"Unhand me, sirrah," screamed the boy. "How dare you lay hands on a
+prince of England?"
+
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries,
+but it was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an
+instant, they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing
+his sword as he ran.
+
+When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside,
+and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate.
+But, handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key
+before the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out before
+the master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
+
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly
+affrightened Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted
+the officer.
+
+There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentions
+were too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each
+other with grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman that
+France had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince.
+
+In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of
+chivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged through
+the heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped between
+Lady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the garden
+and give the alarm.
+
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing the
+lady in waiting, his back against the door.
+
+"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules," she cried, "hast thou gone mad?"
+
+"No, My Lady," he answered, "but I had not thought to do the work which
+now lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head
+and let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling? Your
+rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you or
+I, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself for
+death."
+
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by
+the great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap
+still further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading and
+humiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King feared
+this mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follies
+which were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
+
+What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for
+Leicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came
+an interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier in
+a common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
+
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and
+Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming
+down her pale cheeks.
+
+"Oh, My Lord! My Lord!" she cried, "Richard, our son, has been
+assassinated and thrown into the Thames."
+
+In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the
+greatest difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statement
+from his queen.
+
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with
+Prince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an
+immediate search had been instituted--a search which did not end for
+over twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the
+court to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the dead
+bodies of Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere
+was there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of
+England, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm.
+
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was
+that one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of
+the episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the
+King's little son became apparent.
+
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England,
+for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark which
+closely resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was found
+bearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search was
+carried into France, nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time for
+more than twenty years.
+
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it was
+subjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassin
+could have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killed
+the Lady Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
+
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had
+always been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members of
+the King's household.
+
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king was
+healed, and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority in
+Gascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royal
+master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced,
+for, merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Too
+far he had gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady
+Maud alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the city of London
+would have been on his heels in ten minutes; there would have been no
+escape.
+
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and
+whimper in his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that a
+threat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led
+him to the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes.
+
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had first
+intended. Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneath
+the thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a
+cotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair.
+Concealing the child beneath the other articles of clothing, he pushed
+off from the bank, and, rowing close to the shore, hastened down the
+Thames toward the old dock where, the previous night, he had concealed
+his skiff. He reached his destination unnoticed, and, running in beneath
+the dock, worked the boat far into the dark recess of the cave-like
+retreat.
+
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew that
+the search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, and
+that none might traverse the streets of London without being subject to
+the closest scrutiny.
+
+Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince and
+clothed him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundle
+hidden beneath the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match,
+a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap.
+
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn
+from the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned the
+bundle to the voiceless river.
+
+The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and,
+finding that De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow
+commenced questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this
+strange adventure getting the better of his former apprehension.
+
+"What do we here, Sir Jules?" he asked. "Take me back to the King's, my
+father's palace. I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments you
+have placed upon me."
+
+"Silence, boy!" commanded the old man. "Sir Jules be dead, nor are you
+a king's son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me hear
+you speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince."
+
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor.
+Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry and
+frightened--just a poor little baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands
+of this cruel enemy--all his royalty as nothing, all gone with the
+silken finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames,
+and presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the skiff.
+
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to the
+side of the dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood
+listening, preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til's
+place.
+
+As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive
+ears; louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that a
+number of men were approaching.
+
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath
+the dock. Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights and
+men-at-arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the
+dark alley. Here they stopped as though for consultation and plainly
+could the listener below hear every word of their conversation.
+
+"De Montfort," said one, "what thinkest thou of it? Can it be that the
+Queen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters?"
+
+"No, De Clare," replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as that of
+the Earl of Leicester. "The hand that could steal the Prince from out of
+the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or her
+companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easily
+and safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been the
+object of this strange attack. I think, My Lord, that presently we shall
+hear from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince for
+ransom. God give that such may be the case, for of all the winsome and
+affectionate little fellows I have ever seen, not even excepting mine
+own dear son, the little Richard was the most to be beloved. Would that
+I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done this horrid deed."
+
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the
+object of his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and
+the voices above him had awakened the little Prince and, with a startled
+cry, he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De Vac's iron
+band clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail had
+reached the ears of the men above.
+
+"Hark! What was that, My Lord?" cried one of the men-at-arms.
+
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then De
+Montfort cried out:
+
+"What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the name
+of the King!"
+
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free
+himself, but De Vac's ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the
+babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening
+for a repetition of the sound.
+
+"Dock rats," said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided them to
+protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose
+boards, and ran squealing up the dark alley.
+
+"Right you are," said De Montfort, "but I could have sworn 'twas a
+child's feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine own
+eyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no success
+here, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious to
+bargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to
+give us."
+
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of the
+listeners beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance.
+
+"A close shave," thought De Vac, as he again took up the child and
+prepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him,
+he soon reached the door to Til's house and, inserting the key, crept
+noiselessly to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored
+hostess.
+
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, this
+ascent being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up
+after him, closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbed
+with his burden, by means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars.
+
+The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east end
+of the building, and had windows upon three sides. These were heavily
+curtained. The apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging from a
+rafter near the center of the room.
+
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing a
+most barnlike and unhospitable appearance.
+
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; a
+cupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings. These
+articles De Vac had purchased for the room against the time when he
+should occupy it with his little prisoner.
+
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing
+honey, a pitcher of milk and two drinking horns. To these, De Vac
+immediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of what
+he wished.
+
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince's fears, and he set
+to with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse by
+the rude utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal
+magnificence of his palace apartments.
+
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the building
+in search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. The
+words of De Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced him
+that here was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge which
+must be removed as had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was
+neither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, or
+to cause the grim executioner a pang of remorse.
+
+When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the
+street, in fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building.
+Still clad as he was in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til
+did not, at first, recognize him, and when he spoke, she burst into
+a nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in the perpetration of some
+questionable act, nor did her manner escape the shrewd notice of the
+wily master of fence.
+
+"Whither, old hag?" he asked.
+
+"To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end, by the river, My Lord," she
+replied, with more respect than she had been wont to accord him.
+
+"Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you can
+give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I have
+moored there."
+
+And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the
+rickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the King
+would lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could
+give; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long dagger
+which nestled there.
+
+As they reached the water's edge, De Vac was walking with his right
+shoulder behind his companion's left, in his hand was gripped the keen
+blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just
+below her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at the
+same instant that De Vac's left hand swung up and grasped her throat in
+a grip of steel.
+
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening old
+muscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward into
+the Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope that
+Prince Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent
+old woman lived in the heart of London within a stone's throw of the
+King's palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of
+an old building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad
+alone, nor by day. And upon his left breast was a strange mark which
+resembled a lily. When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room,
+with bolted door behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and discard
+her dingy mantle for more comfortable and becoming doublet and hose.
+
+For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy's education. There
+were three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and hatred
+of all things English, especially the reigning house of England.
+
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the
+little boy the art of fence when he was but three years old.
+
+"You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty,
+my son," she was wont to say, "and then you shall go out and kill many
+Englishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth
+of England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck,
+aha, then will I speak. Then shall they know."
+
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he was
+comfortable, and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and that
+he would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real sword,
+and had grown large enough to wield one. He also knew that he hated
+Englishmen, but why, he did not know.
+
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, he
+seemed to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very
+different; when, instead of this old woman, there had been many people
+around him, and a sweet faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed
+him, before he was taken off to bed at night; but he could not be sure,
+maybe it was only a dream he remembered, for he dreamed many strange and
+wonderful dreams.
+
+When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came to
+their attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk of
+the evening but the old woman did not light the cresset, and further,
+she whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far corner
+of the bare chamber.
+
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost
+his entire face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bit
+of wrinkled forehead. When he spoke, he accompanied his words with many
+shrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and other
+strange and amusing gesticulations. The child was fascinated. Here was
+the first amusement of his little starved life. He listened intently to
+the conversation, which was in French.
+
+"I have just the thing for madame," the stranger was saying. "It be a
+noble and stately hall far from the beaten way. It was built in the old
+days by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants. A few years
+since, Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri de
+Macy, who pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay. Today
+it be my property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it for the
+mere song I have named. It be a wondrous bargain, madame."
+
+"And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumbling
+pile of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes," replied the
+old woman peevishly.
+
+"One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one wing
+hath sagged and tumbled in," explained the old Frenchman. "But the three
+lower stories be intact and quite habitable. It be much grander even
+now than the castles of many of England's noble barons, and the price,
+madame--ah, the price be so ridiculously low."
+
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+
+"Come," said the Frenchman, "I have it. Deposit the money with Isaac the
+Jew--thou knowest him?--and he shall hold it together with the deed
+for forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby and
+inspect thy purchase. If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the Jew
+shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the end
+of forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaac
+send the deed to thee and the money to me. Be not this an easy and fair
+way out of the difficulty?"
+
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that
+it seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter. And thus it was
+accomplished.
+
+Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her.
+
+"We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home. Thy face shall
+be wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache. Dost
+understand?"
+
+"But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I--"
+expostulated the child.
+
+"Tut, tut," interrupted the little old woman. "Thou hast a toothache,
+and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags. And listen, should any ask
+thee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that thou
+hast a toothache. And thou do not do as I say, the King's men will take
+us and we shall be hanged, for the King hateth us. If thou hatest the
+English King and lovest thy life do as I command."
+
+"I hate the King," replied the little boy. "For this reason I shall do
+as thou sayest."
+
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north
+toward the hills of Derby. For many days they travelled, riding upon
+two small donkeys. Strange sights filled the days for the little boy
+who remembered nothing outside the bare attic of his London home and the
+dirty London alleys that he had traversed only by night.
+
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark,
+forbidding forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of
+thatched huts. Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway,
+alone or in small parties, but the child's companion always managed to
+hasten into cover at the road side until the grim riders had passed.
+
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade
+across which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade
+from either side. For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in
+silence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black charger,
+cried out something to the other which the boy could not catch. The
+other knight made no response other than to rest his lance upon his
+thigh and with lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary. For a
+dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another, but
+presently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the two iron
+men on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of the
+glade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
+
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his
+foeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon
+the gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway. The
+momentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horseman
+before his rider could rein him in, then the black knight turned to view
+the havoc he had wrought. The gray horse was just staggering dizzily to
+his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen.
+
+With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his
+vanquished foe. There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned
+toward the prostrate form. He spoke tauntingly, but there was no
+response, then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.
+Even this elicited no movement. With a shrug of his iron clad shoulders,
+the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he had
+disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encircling
+forest.
+
+The little boy was spell-bound. Naught like this had he ever seen or
+dreamed.
+
+"Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son," said the little old
+woman.
+
+"Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?" he
+asked.
+
+"Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance
+and mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and
+death, for every man shalt be thy enemy. But come, we must be on our
+way."
+
+They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always in
+his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for the
+day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight.
+
+On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the
+notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares,
+they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some
+bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised and
+defenseless tradesmen.
+
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeons
+and daggers, with here and there a cross-bow. Without mercy they
+attacked the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood even
+when they offered no resistance. Those of the caravan who could,
+escaped, the balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, as
+they hurried away with their loot.
+
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little
+old woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips. She
+noted his expression of dismay.
+
+"It is naught, my son. But English curs setting upon English swine. Some
+day thou shalt set upon both--they be only fit for killing."
+
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which
+he had seen. Knights were cruel to knights--the poor were cruel to the
+rich--and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind
+that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor. He had seen
+them in all their sorrow and misery and poverty--stretching a long,
+scattering line all the way from London town. Their bent backs, their
+poor thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the weary
+wretchedness of their existence.
+
+"Be no one happy in all the world?" he once broke out to the old woman.
+
+"Only he who wields the mightiest sword," responded the old woman. "You
+have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts. They set upon and
+kill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all.
+When thou shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for
+unless thou kill them, they will kill thee."
+
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little
+hamlet in the hills. Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse
+purchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting
+country away from the beaten track, until late one evening they
+approached a ruined castle.
+
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and
+where a portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining
+through the narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the
+likeness of a huge, many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a
+deserted world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation.
+
+Before this somber pile, the two dismounted. The little boy was filled
+with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the
+crumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them. From the dark
+shadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court. At the
+far end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with decaying
+planks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of oats
+upon the floor for him from a bag which had hung across his rump.
+
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting
+their advance with a flickering pine knot. The old planking of the
+floors, long unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach. There
+was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed by
+in a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night.
+
+Presently they came to the great hall. The old woman pushed open the
+great doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty,
+cavernous interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch. As they
+stepped cautiously within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurts
+from the long-rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet. A huge
+bat circled wildly with loud fluttering wings in evident remonstrance at
+this rude intrusion. Strange creatures of the night scurried or wriggled
+across wall and floor.
+
+But the child was unafraid. Fear had not been a part of the old woman's
+curriculum. The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor was
+he ever in his after-life to experience the sensation. With childish
+eagerness, he followed his companion as she inspected the interior of
+the chamber. It was still an imposing room. The boy clapped his hands
+in delight at the beauties of the carved and panelled walls and the oak
+beamed ceiling, stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oil
+cressets that had lighted it in bygone days, aided, no doubt, by the
+wood fires which had burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the
+merry throng of noble revellers that had so often sat about the great
+table into the morning hours.
+
+Here they took up their abode. But the bent, old woman was no longer an
+old woman--she had become a straight, wiry, active old man.
+
+The little boy's education went on--French, swordsmanship and hatred
+of the English--the same thing year after year with the addition of
+horsemanship after he was ten years old. At this time the old man
+commenced teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and very
+marked French accent. During all his life now, he could not remember of
+having spoken to any living being other than his guardian, whom he had
+been taught to address as father. Nor did the boy have any name--he was
+just "my son."
+
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exacting
+duties of his education that he had little time to think of the strange
+loneliness of his existence; nor is it probable that he missed that
+companionship of others of his own age of which, never having had
+experience in it, he could scarce be expected to regret or yearn for.
+
+At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and with
+an utter contempt for pain or danger--a contempt which was the result of
+the heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him.
+Often the two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and without armor or
+other protection of any description.
+
+"Thus only," the old man was wont to say, "mayst thou become the
+absolute master of thy blade. Of such a nicety must be thy handling of
+the weapon that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly,
+shouldst thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of a
+master hand, mayst be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch."
+
+But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of them
+would nurse a punctured skin for a few days. So, while blood was often
+let on both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who was
+so truly the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within a
+fraction of an inch of the spot he sought.
+
+At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad. Bronzed
+and hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none that
+he might talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for
+that he was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking French
+fluently and English poorly--and waiting impatiently for the day when
+the old man should send him out into the world with clanking armor and
+lance and shield to do battle with the knights of England.
+
+It was about this time that there occurred the first important break in
+the monotony of his existence. Far down the rocky trail that led from
+the valley below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three
+armored knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill
+autumn day. Off the main road and far from any habitation, they had
+espied the castle's towers through a rift in the hills, and now they
+spurred toward it in search of food and shelter.
+
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenly
+emerged upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes
+which caused them to draw rein and watch in admiration. There, before
+them upon the downs, a boy battled with a lunging, rearing horse--a
+perfect demon of a black horse. Striking and biting in a frenzy of
+rage, it sought ever to escape or injure the lithe figure which clung
+leech-like to its shoulder.
+
+The boy was on the ground. His left hand grasped the heavy mane;
+his right arm lay across the beast's withers and his right hand drew
+steadily in upon a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch
+about the horse's muzzle. Now the black reared and wheeled, striking
+and biting, full upon the youth, but the active figure swung with
+him--always just behind the giant shoulder--and ever and ever he drew
+the great arched neck farther and farther to the right.
+
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged the
+boy with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the
+grip upon mane and withers. Suddenly, he reared straight into the air
+carrying the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himself
+backward upon the ground.
+
+"It's death!" exclaimed one of the knights, "he will kill the youth yet,
+Beauchamp."
+
+"No!" cried he addressed. "Look! He is up again and the boy still clings
+as tightly to him as his own black hide."
+
+"'Tis true," exclaimed another, "but he hath lost what he had gained
+upon the halter--he must needs fight it all out again from the
+beginning."
+
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing the
+iron neck slowly to the right--the beast fighting and squealing as
+though possessed of a thousand devils. A dozen times, as the head bent
+farther and farther toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the mane
+and reached quickly down to grasp the near fore pastern. A dozen times
+the horse shook off the new hold, but at length the boy was successful,
+and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow.
+
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feet
+and his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position. His
+efforts became weaker and weaker. The boy talked incessantly to him in
+a quiet voice, and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. Now
+he bore heavily upon the black withers, pulling the horse toward him.
+Slowly the beast sank upon his bent knee--pulling backward until his off
+fore leg was stretched straight before him. Then, with a final surge,
+the youth pulled him over upon his side, and, as he fell, slipped prone
+beside him. One sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the black
+chin--the other grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, but
+with his head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of the
+boy as a baby would have been. Then he sank panting and exhausted into
+mute surrender.
+
+"Well done!" cried one of the knights. "Simon de Montfort himself never
+mastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?"
+
+In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the
+speaker. The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood--the
+handsome boy and the beautiful black--gazing with startled eyes, like
+two wild things, at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+
+"Come, Sir Mortimer!" cried the boy, and turning he led the prancing but
+subdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican into
+the court beyond.
+
+"What ho, there, lad!" shouted Paul of Merely. "We wouldst not harm
+thee--come, we but ask the way to the castle of De Stutevill."
+
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+
+"Come, Sir Knights," spoke Paul of Merely, "we will ride within and
+learn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery."
+
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruined
+grandeur, they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in no
+gentle tones what they would of them there.
+
+"We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old man,"
+replied Paul of Merely. "We seek the castle of Sir John de Stutevill."
+
+"Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to the
+right, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ride
+north beside the river--thou canst not miss the way--it be plain as the
+nose before thy face," and with that the old man turned to enter the
+castle.
+
+"Hold, old fellow!" cried the spokesman. "It be nigh onto sunset now,
+and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last. We
+will tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journey
+refreshed, upon rested steeds."
+
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in to
+feed and house them over night. But there was nothing else for it, since
+they would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it
+voluntarily.
+
+From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outside
+their Derby hills. The old man showed less interest than he felt, but to
+the boy, notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to him,
+it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of earl and
+baron, bishop and king.
+
+"If the King does not mend his ways," said one of the knights, "we will
+drive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the sea."
+
+"De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all of
+us, both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formed
+a pact for our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that the
+time for temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil war
+upon his hands, he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead of
+breaking them the moment De Montfort's back be turned."
+
+"He fears his brother-in-law," interrupted another of the knights, "even
+more than the devil fears holy water. I was in attendance on his majesty
+some weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the royal barge.
+We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have ever seen, of
+which the King was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land at
+the Bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then were. De Montfort,
+who was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all due respect,
+observing, 'What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed?' And
+what thinkest thou old 'waxen heart' replied? Why, still trembling, he
+said, 'I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but, by the hand of
+God, I tremble before you more than for all the thunder in Heaven!'"
+
+"I surmise," interjected the grim, old man, "that De Montfort has in
+some manner gained an ascendancy over the King. Think you he looks so
+high as the throne itself?"
+
+"Not so," cried the oldest of the knights. "Simon de Montfort works for
+England's weal alone--and methinks, nay knowest, that he would be first
+to spring to arms to save the throne for Henry. He but fights the King's
+rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to defy the
+King himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter collapse.
+But, gad, how the King hates him. For a time it seemed that there might
+be a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the disappearance
+of the little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of his time and
+private fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for the
+little fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond. This self-sacrificing
+interest on his part won over the King and Queen for many years, but of
+late his unremitting hostility to their continued extravagant waste of
+the national resources has again hardened them toward him."
+
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened,
+sent the youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left to
+prepare supper.
+
+As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the boy
+intently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome face,
+clear, intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a mass
+of brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears,
+where it was again cut square at the sides and back, after the fashion
+of the times.
+
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red,
+over which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was also
+of leather, a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin. His
+long hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer of skin,
+were of the same red wool as his tunic, while his strong leather sandals
+were cross-gartered halfway to his knees with narrow bands of leather.
+
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a
+round skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon's
+wing, completed his picturesque and becoming costume.
+
+"Your son?" he asked, turning to the old man.
+
+"Yes," was the growling response.
+
+"He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French
+accent.
+
+"'S blood, Beauchamp," he continued, turning to one of his companions,
+"an' were he set down in court, I wager our gracious Queen would he hard
+put to it to tell him from the young Prince Edward. Dids't ever see so
+strange a likeness?"
+
+"Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed a
+marvel," answered Beauchamp.
+
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would have
+seen a blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage.
+
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a
+grave quiet tone.
+
+"And how old might you be, my son?" he asked the boy.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And your name?"
+
+"I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son and
+no other ever before addressed me."
+
+At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he would
+fetch more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he had
+passed the doorway and listened from without.
+
+"The lad appears about fifteen," said Paul of Merely, lowering his
+voice, "and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives.
+This one does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like
+Prince Edward to be his twin."
+
+"Come, my son," he continued aloud, "open your jerkin and let us have a
+look at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there."
+
+"Are you Englishmen?" asked the boy without making a move to comply with
+their demand.
+
+"That we be, my son," said Beauchamp.
+
+"Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all Englishmen
+are pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France. I do not
+uncover my body to the eyes of swine."
+
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally
+burst into uproarious laughter.
+
+"Indeed," cried Paul of Merely, "spoken as one of the King's foreign
+favorites might speak, and they ever told the good God's truth. But come
+lad, we would not harm you--do as I bid."
+
+"No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side," answered
+the boy, "and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man other
+than my father."
+
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul of
+Merely, but the latter's face hardened in anger, and without further
+words he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy's
+leathern jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick
+sharp, "En garde!" from the boy.
+
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, in
+self-defense, for the sharp point of the boy's sword was flashing in and
+out against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs,
+and the boy's tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as it
+invited him to draw and defend himself or be stuck "like the English pig
+you are."
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing
+against this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm him
+without harming the lad, and he certainly did not care to be further
+humiliated before his comrades.
+
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he discovered
+that, far from disarming him, he would have the devil's own job of it to
+keep from being killed.
+
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and
+dexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room,
+great beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he
+realized that he was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman.
+
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grim
+smiles, and presently they looked on with startled faces in which fear
+and apprehension were dominant.
+
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse. No sign of
+exertion was apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder than
+words that he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paul
+of Merely always retreating. The din of their clashing swords and the
+heavy breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as they
+brushed against a bench or a table.
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of dying
+uselessly at the hands of a mere boy. He would not call upon his friends
+for aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between them
+with drawn sword, crying "Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have no
+quarrel. Sheathe your swords."
+
+But the boy's only response was, "En garde, cochon," and Beauchamp found
+himself taking the center of the stage in the place of his friend. Nor
+did the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in swordplay
+that caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their sockets.
+
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of
+gleaming light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile
+had frozen upon his lips--grim and stern.
+
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places when
+Greystoke rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry, gray
+man leaped agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword took
+his place beside the boy. It was now two against three and the three may
+have guessed, though they never knew, that they were pitted against the
+two greatest swordsmen in the world.
+
+"To the death," cried the little gray man, "a mort, mon fils." Scarcely
+had the words left his lips ere, as though it had but waited permission,
+the boy's sword flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely, and a Saxon
+gentleman was gathered to his fathers.
+
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undivided
+attention to Beauchamp. Both these men were considered excellent
+swordsmen, but when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man's "a mort,
+mon fils," he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his neck
+rose up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the sentence
+of death passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could vanquish
+such a swordsman as he who now faced him.
+
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man
+led Greystoke to where the boy awaited him.
+
+"They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of
+revenge; a mort, mon fils."
+
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the lad
+as a great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back not
+an inch and, when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steel
+protruding from his back.
+
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the
+back of the ruined castle. First they had stripped them and, when they
+took account of the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richer
+by three horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold and silver
+money, ornaments and jewels, as well as the lances, swords and chain
+mail armor of their erstwhile guests.
+
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that the
+knowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and Prince
+Edward of England had come to him in time to prevent the undoing of his
+life's work.
+
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the old
+man had little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to
+him, obliterating the devices so that none might guess to whom it had
+belonged. This he did, and from then on the boy never rode abroad except
+in armor, and when he met others upon the high road, his visor was
+always lowered that none might see his face.
+
+The day following the episode of the three knights the old man called
+the boy to him, saying,
+
+"It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions as
+were put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry. Thou art fifteen years
+of age, and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle of
+Torn, thou mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou art
+Norman of Torn; that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchased
+Torn and brought thee hither from France on the death of thy mother,
+when thou wert six years old.
+
+"But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman is
+the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit."
+
+And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short years
+was to strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in the
+vicinity of Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in
+the handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a period
+was allotted to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned
+sixteen, even the old man himself was as but a novice by comparison with
+the marvelous skill of his pupil.
+
+During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions
+until he knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn.
+Sometimes the old man accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+
+On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small
+hamlet not far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determined
+to enter and have speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural
+desire for companionship was commencing to assert itself. In all his
+life, he remembered only the company of the old man, who never spoke
+except when necessity required.
+
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushed
+in, without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up with
+an expression of annoyance and disapproval.
+
+"What now," he said, "have the King's men respect neither for piety nor
+age that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so much
+as a 'by your leave'?"
+
+"I am no king's man," replied the boy quietly, "I am Norman of Torn, who
+has neither a king nor a god, and who says 'by your leave' to no man.
+But I have come in peace because I wish to talk to another than my
+father. Therefore you may talk to me, priest," he concluded with haughty
+peremptoriness.
+
+"By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me with
+his commands," laughed the priest. "Raise your visor, My Lord, I
+would fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands of
+royalty."
+
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round jovial
+face. There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort, and so,
+smiling, the boy raised his visor.
+
+"By the ear of Gabriel," cried the good father, "a child in armor!"
+
+"A child in years, mayhap," replied the boy, "but a good child to own as
+a friend, if one has enemies who wear swords."
+
+"Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have few
+enemies, no man has too many friends, and I like your face and your
+manner, though there be much to wish for in your manners. Sit down and
+eat with me, and I will talk to your heart's content, for be there one
+other thing I more love than eating, it is talking."
+
+With the priest's aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavy
+and uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that was
+already partially on the board.
+
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good
+priest. Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend,
+Father Claude. It was he who taught the boy to read and write in French,
+English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could sign their
+own names.
+
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher
+classes of society, and all public documents were inscribed either in
+French or Latin, although about this time the first proclamation written
+in the English tongue was issued by an English king to his subjects.
+
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to espouse
+the cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe that the
+principal reason for man's existence was to protect woman. All of virtue
+and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected to
+inculcate in the boy's mind, the good priest planted there, but he could
+not eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that
+the real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with a
+sword.
+
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy's earlier visits to his
+new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring to
+bear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the
+boy's, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good father owed a
+great deal, possibly his life.
+
+As they were seated in the priest's hut one afternoon, a rough knock
+fell upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as
+disreputable a band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man. Six
+of them there were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords and
+daggers at their sides.
+
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair
+and a red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard.
+Behind him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache;
+while the third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and
+forehead and from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye, for
+that socket was empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered the
+inflamed red of the hollow where his eye had been.
+
+"A ha, my hearties," roared the leader, turning to his motley crew,
+"fine pickings here indeed. A swine of God fattened upon the sweat of
+such poor, honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks,
+must have pieces of gold in his belt.
+
+"Say your prayers, my pigeons," he continued, with a vile oath, "for The
+Black Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a halter
+later, and dead men talk the least."
+
+"If it be The Black Wolf," whispered Father Claude to the boy, "no worse
+fate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and when drunk,
+as he now is, he murders his victims. I will throw myself before them
+while you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make good
+your escape." He spoke in French, and held his hands in the attitude of
+prayer, so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no idea
+that he was communicating with the boy.
+
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of the
+old priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:
+
+"The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he
+runs out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at the
+front door."
+
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+
+"I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friend
+here, nor neither do I care. It is sufficient that he is the friend of
+Norman of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledge
+the debt of friendship. Have at you, sir knights of the great filth and
+the mighty stink!" and with drawn sword he vaulted over the table and
+fell upon the surprised leader.
+
+In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercely
+did his blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment,
+The Black Wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, was
+badly, though not fatally wounded. The four remaining ruffians backed
+quickly from the hut, and a more cautious fighter would have let them
+go their way in peace, for in the open, four against one are odds no man
+may pit himself against with impunity. But Norman of Torn saw red when
+he fought and the red lured him ever on into the thickest of the fray.
+Only once before had he fought to the death, but that once had taught
+him the love of it, and ever after until his death, it marked his manner
+of fighting; so that men who loathed and hated and feared him were as
+one with those who loved him in acknowledging that never before had God
+joined in the human frame absolute supremacy with the sword and such
+utter fearlessness.
+
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, he
+rushed out after the four knaves. Once in the open, they turned upon
+him, but he sprang into their midst with his seething blade, and it was
+as though they faced four men rather than one, so quickly did he parry
+a thrust here and return a cut there. In a moment one was disarmed,
+another down, and the remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the
+high road with Norman of Torn close at their heels.
+
+Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running as
+well as in swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both had
+thrown away their swords and were on their knees pleading for their
+lives.
+
+"Come back to the good priest's hut, and we shall see what he may say,"
+replied Norman of Torn.
+
+On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending over
+his wounded comrade. They were brothers, named Flory, and one would not
+desert the other. It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger,
+so Norman of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut, where
+they found Red Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the good
+father poured the contents of a flagon down his eager throat.
+
+The villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four
+comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room.
+
+"The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory,
+One Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Man or devil! By the Pope's hind leg, who and what be ye?" he said,
+turning to Norman of Torn.
+
+"I be your master and ye be my men," said Norman of Torn. "Me ye shall
+serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but with
+fighting a-plenty and good reward."
+
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon the
+clergy had given rise to an idea in the boy's mind, which had been
+revolving in a nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his
+subconsciousness since his vanquishing of the three knights had brought
+him, so easily, such riches in the form of horses, arms, armor and gold.
+As was always his wont in his after life, to think was to act.
+
+"With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with red
+hot tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of a
+chief," spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, "for verily any man, be he
+but a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command us."
+
+"But what be the duties?" said he whom they called Peter the Hermit.
+
+"To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and the
+weak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon rich
+Englishmen and harass the King of England."
+
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the ruffians
+so strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even daily
+mass, and a bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the service
+of Norman of Torn.
+
+"Aye, aye!" they cried. "We be your men, indeed."
+
+"Wait," said Norman of Torn, "there is more. You are to obey my every
+command on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are to
+be mine. On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mounts
+and armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for and with
+you with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector. Are you
+satisfied?"
+
+"That we are," and "Long live Norman of Torn," and "Here's to the chief
+of the Torns" signified the ready assent of the burly cut-throats.
+
+"Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token," pursued
+Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest's table.
+
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few years
+to number a thousand men, and which defied a king's army and helped to
+make Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+
+Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon neighboring
+barons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be caught in
+the open by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn with
+many pieces of gold and silver, and placed a price upon his head ere he
+had scarce turned eighteen.
+
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts,
+he grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger's point upon the foreheads
+of those who fell before his own sword the initials NT.
+
+As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grim
+Castle of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnished
+the moat with water in bygone days.
+
+Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed
+his activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly and
+oppressed. The money he took from the King's tax gatherers, he returned
+to the miserable peasants of the district, and once when Henry III sent
+a little expedition against him, he surrounded and captured the entire
+force, and, stripping them, gave their clothing to the poor, and
+escorted them, naked, back to the very gates of London.
+
+By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself had
+dubbed him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though no
+man had seen his face and lived other than his friends and followers.
+He had become a power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel
+between King Henry and his foreign favorites on one side, and the Saxon
+and Norman barons on the other.
+
+Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman of
+Torn had preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent. Personally,
+he had decided to join neither party, but to take advantage of the
+turmoil of the times to prey without partiality upon both.
+
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy,
+ragged cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the old
+man of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small towers
+of the barbican.
+
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung at
+his side in mimicry of the custom of the times.
+
+"What ho, without there!" challenged the old man entering grimly into
+the spirit of the play.
+
+"'Tis Sir Norman of Torn," spoke up Red Shandy, "with his great host
+of noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and sumpter
+beasts. Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn."
+
+"What means this, my son?" said the old man as Norman of Torn dismounted
+within the ballium.
+
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, "These,
+then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon the
+highways and into the byways of England, to collect from the rich
+English pigs that living which you have ever taught me was owing us."
+
+"'Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together we
+shall ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way.
+
+"From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow in
+the land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and shall
+hate and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe him.
+
+"All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall
+never dry upon your blade."
+
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after
+this outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin,
+said:
+
+"By the Pope's hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English.
+There should be great riding after such as he."
+
+"Ye ride after ME, varlet," cried Norman of Torn, "an' lest ye should
+forget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a reminder," and
+he struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist--so
+that the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a towering
+rage. As he rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter made
+no move to draw; he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold,
+level gaze; his head held high, haughty face marked by an arrogant sneer
+of contempt.
+
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smile
+overspread his countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand of
+Norman of Torn and kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight might
+have kissed his king's hand in proof of his love and fealty. There was
+a certain rude, though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it marked
+not only the beginning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of
+Shandy toward his young master, but was prophetic of the attitude which
+Norman of Torn was to inspire in all the men who served him during the
+long years that saw thousands pass the barbicans of Torn to crave a
+position beneath his grim banner.
+
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One Eye
+Kanty, and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed
+his hand. From the Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man had
+watched this scene, a slight smile upon his old, malicious face.
+
+"'Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams," he muttered. "'S death,
+but he be more a king than Henry himself. God speed the day of his
+coronation, when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a black
+cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet the
+platform of a wooden gibbet for a throne."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rode
+alone down the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which he
+had replaced the hut of his old friend, Father Claude.
+
+As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his
+person or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank
+or house. More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he was
+without rank or other title than that of outlaw and he seemed to assume
+what in reality he held in little esteem.
+
+He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and not
+because he craved the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause,
+he rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon
+the old man to explain the reason which necessitated this precaution.
+
+"It is enough that I tell you, my son," the old fellow was wont to say,
+"that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face to
+your enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I hope,
+when you shall uncover your countenance to all England."
+
+The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it off
+as the foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
+
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a very
+different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before,
+when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of
+the night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whose
+metamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent to
+the castle had marked.
+
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than ever
+in the most resplendent days of its past grandeur. The original keep was
+there with its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen foot
+walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted chambers, lighted by
+embrasures which, mere slits in the outer periphery of the walls, spread
+to larger dimensions within, some even attaining the area of small
+triangular chambers.
+
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the
+castle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at
+intervals with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire
+from long bows, cross bows and javelins might be directed against a
+scaling party.
+
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice, which
+natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
+
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran
+the tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the
+valley below. The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged
+beauty. A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparsely
+studded with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view of
+broad and lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling tributary of
+the Trent.
+
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the north
+wall and one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified with
+towered and buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main
+gates could be reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner
+gates were similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which,
+spanning the moat when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of an
+enemy, effectually stopping his advance.
+
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the
+direction of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father,
+were of the Norman type of architecture, the windows were larger, the
+carving more elaborate, the rooms lighter and more spacious.
+
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten
+hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires, lackeys,
+cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to
+care for the wants of his little army.
+
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were
+quartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive with
+cows, oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors to
+the grim pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the neighboring
+farm lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid good
+gold for their crops.
+
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons who
+owned the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or
+give a pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of
+death, but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly and
+always returned full laden, and though the husbandmen told sad tales
+to their overlords of the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he
+seized upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their cheeks as
+they spoke and the Devil's gold in their pockets.
+
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants'
+love for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, their
+stock, their crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestation
+even though the neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked from
+the wine cellar to the ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor did anyone
+dare ride rough shod over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled.
+A dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Derby hills, and
+though the barons would much rather have had all the rest than he, the
+peasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the lowborn murderers who
+had been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose account the
+women of the huts and cottages had never been safe.
+
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but
+they loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him
+to their ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and the
+meadow and the chase, for though they were confessed Christians, still
+in the hearts of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions of
+their ancestors; and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to
+Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the safe side with the
+others, in case they did happen to exist.
+
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, they
+were; accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader and
+then another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of
+their feudal lords and their rapacious monarchs.
+
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for
+since their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors,
+to England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them from
+oppression.
+
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and
+the grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter was
+for carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young man
+would neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to
+molest the lowly. A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wild
+horde than a stout lance or an emblazoned shield.
+
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father
+Claude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from
+the copper boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen
+kneeling uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkable
+after all.
+
+Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay
+back moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong,
+lithe legs stretched out before him.
+
+"What ails you, my son?" asked the priest, "that you look so
+disconsolate on this beautiful day?"
+
+"I do not know, Father," replied Norman of Torn, "unless it be that I
+am asking myself the question, 'What it is all for?' Why did my father
+train me ever to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there is
+plenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolen
+wealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it? Should
+I stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held by
+a hempen necklace.
+
+"What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry? They have quarrel
+enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should
+have hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they
+really are. So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an old
+man's spite, not even knowing the grievance to the avenging of which my
+life has been dedicated by another.
+
+"And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the
+nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and
+never in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt
+a caress, even as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?"
+
+"I have thought much of it, my son," answered the priest. "It has ever
+been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held
+for years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder
+to speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman of
+Torn, if you are not the son of the old man you call father, may God
+forfend that England ever guesses your true parentage. More than this, I
+dare not say except that, as you value your peace of mind and your life,
+keep your visor down and keep out of the clutches of your enemies."
+
+"Then you know why I should keep my visor down?"
+
+"I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you
+resemble."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the sound
+of horses' hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an instant,
+both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the highroad,
+five knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party of
+ten or a dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching breathless on
+her palfry, a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants.
+
+Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rode
+to her side with some word of command, at the same time grasping
+roughly at her bridle rein. The girl raised her riding whip and struck
+repeatedly but futilely against the iron headgear of her assailant while
+he swung his horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after him,
+galloped rapidly out of sight.
+
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored
+condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back and spurred swiftly in the
+direction taken by the girl and her abductor.
+
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor
+of his rider, soon brought the fugitives to view. Scarce a mile had been
+covered ere the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of
+Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
+
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knight
+reined in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, "Mon Dieu, Edward!"
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," cried Norman of Torn.
+
+"But, Your Highness," stammered the knight.
+
+"Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs,"
+cried Norman of Torn.
+
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the
+rider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck
+the other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the
+dust of the roadway.
+
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair
+battle upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor,
+the knight also had the advantage of its protection, so that the
+two fought furiously for several minutes without either gaining an
+advantage.
+
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching
+every move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, but
+seemed riveted to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she
+was beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the handsome
+giant who had espoused her cause. As she looked upon her champion, she
+saw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect
+figure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean,
+athletic life of the trained fighting man.
+
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the sword
+arm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played with
+the sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so futilely
+before him. For all the din of clashing blades and rattling armor,
+neither of the contestants had inflicted much damage, for the knight
+could neither force nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard of
+his unarmored foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in penetrating
+the other's armor.
+
+Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade
+through the meshes of his adversary's mail, and the fellow, with a cry
+of anguish, sank limply to the ground.
+
+"Quick, Sir Knight!" cried the girl. "Mount and flee; yonder come his
+fellows."
+
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he
+had just come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode three
+steel-armored men on their mighty horses.
+
+"Ride, madam," cried Norman of Torn, "for fly I shall not, nor may I,
+alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay these
+three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape.
+Their heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your fleet palfrey."
+
+As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. That
+she was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of
+her riding apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her
+noble and haughty demeanor and the proud expression of her beautiful
+face.
+
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of
+Norman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of
+women, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position. No
+woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, ever
+known a mother.
+
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward
+men, except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in a
+way, he looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn
+looked up to anything: God, man or devil--it being more his way to look
+down upon all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined to
+alter the entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was
+beautiful, and that she was of that class against whom he had preyed for
+years with his band of outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more to
+face her enemies with the strange inconsistency which had ever marked
+his methods.
+
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father's castle, but
+today he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her--had she
+been the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less. It
+was enough that she was a woman and in need of protection.
+
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for
+fair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But as
+the leading knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried out in
+surprise and consternation:
+
+"Mon Dieu, le Prince!" He wheeled his charging horse to one side. His
+fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them
+dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they had
+been keen to attack.
+
+"One would think they had met the devil," muttered Norman of Torn,
+looking after them in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+"What means it, lady?" he asked turning to the damsel, who had made no
+move to escape.
+
+"It means that your face is well known in your father's realm, my Lord
+Prince," she replied. "And the King's men have no desire to antagonize
+you, even though they may understand as little as I why you should
+espouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort."
+
+"Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?" he asked.
+
+"An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord?"
+
+"I am not the Prince," said Norman of Torn. "It is said that Edward is
+in France."
+
+"Right you are, sir," exclaimed the girl. "I had not thought on that;
+but you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the Queen
+herself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king's son. Who are you
+then, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade,
+daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?"
+
+"Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King Henry?" queried Norman of
+Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
+
+"That I be," replied the girl, "an' from your face I take it you have
+little love for a De Montfort," she added, smiling.
+
+"An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you niece
+or daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war
+against women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety."
+
+"I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father's knights, to
+visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby."
+
+"I know the castle well," answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow of
+a grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed
+since he had reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great
+baron. "Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you
+shall sup with your friend before dark."
+
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their steps
+down the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where it
+had fallen.
+
+"Ride on," he called to Bertrade de Montfort, "I will join you in an
+instant."
+
+Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and
+lifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the point
+of his dagger the letters NT.
+
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her
+and he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act.
+Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he
+did, her heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled in
+terror from the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark she
+had seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights and
+kinsmen.
+
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here
+Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more with
+lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de
+Montfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited
+his interest.
+
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a
+young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had
+often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and
+terrible attacks. While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of
+women captives, there was no truth in them. They were merely spread by
+his enemies to incite the people against him. Never had Norman of Torn
+laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath
+to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
+
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something
+stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years.
+It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for
+companionship of such as she, and such as she represented. Norman of
+Torn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did not
+know, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it,
+mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for
+other lions, but for his lioness.
+
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
+
+"You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?"
+
+"I am Nor--" and then he stopped. Always before he had answered that
+question with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought. Was it
+because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of
+this daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fear
+to face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in
+that lovely face?
+
+"I am from Normandy," he went on quietly. "A gentleman of France."
+
+"But your name?" she said peremptorily. "Are you ashamed of your name?"
+
+"You may call me Roger," he answered. "Roger de Conde."
+
+"Raise your visor, Roger de Conde," she commanded. "I do not take
+pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man
+within."
+
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as
+he rarely did, he was good to look upon.
+
+"It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade
+de Montfort," he said.
+
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and
+health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as
+they might have been friends of long standing.
+
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day,
+attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of
+Colfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily
+and roughly denied by her father.
+
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that
+the old reprobate who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavory
+truths from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by his
+rude and discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
+
+"This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to," growled Norman of Torn. "And,
+as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for the
+asking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort."
+
+"Very well," she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much
+indulged in in those days. "You may bring me his head upon a golden
+dish, Roger de Conde."
+
+"And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his
+princess the head of her enemy?" he asked lightly.
+
+"What boon would the knight ask?"
+
+"That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever
+calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and
+believe in his honor and his loyalty."
+
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell
+her that this was more than play.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Sir Knight," she replied. "And the boon once
+granted shall be always kept."
+
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided
+that he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any
+other thing he knew of. And wishing it, he determined to win it by any
+means that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many
+respects was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
+
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and
+there, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the
+Baron's hospitality overnight.
+
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when
+added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he
+made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
+
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire
+household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences
+of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore
+his sword arm in a sling.
+
+"We have been through grievous times," said Sir John, noticing that his
+guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. "That fiend,
+Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us for
+ten days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is no
+longer safe in England with the King spending his time and money with
+foreign favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his own
+barons, instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the right
+of every Englishman at home.
+
+"But," he continued, "this outlaw devil will come to the end of a short
+halter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons themselves
+have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not subdue
+him."
+
+"An' he may send the barons naked home as he did the King's soldiers,"
+laughed Bertrade de Montfort. "I should like to see this fellow; what
+may he look like--from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many of
+your men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him."
+
+"Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us," replied the
+Baron, "but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him
+and that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and
+having one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his
+chin."
+
+"A fearful apparition," murmured Norman of Torn. "No wonder he keeps his
+helm closed."
+
+"But such a swordsman," spoke up a son of De Stutevill. "Never in all
+the world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard."
+
+"I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay," said Bertrade de Montfort,
+"and that today. O he!" she cried, laughing gleefully, "verily do I
+believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight,
+who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er saw man fight
+before, and he rode with his visor down until I chide him for it."
+
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company
+he most enjoyed the joke.
+
+"An' speaking of the Devil," said the Baron, "how think you he will side
+should the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his thousand
+hell-hounds, the fate of England might well be in the palm of his bloody
+hand."
+
+"He loves neither King nor baron," spoke Mary de Stutevill, "and I
+rather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather
+plunder the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be
+absent at war."
+
+"It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcome
+him," said De Stutevill, ruthfully. "But yet I am always in fear for the
+safety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time.
+May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn."
+
+"I think you may have no need of fear on that score," spoke Mary, "for
+Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of
+Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was the
+great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailed
+hand as to crack the ruffian's helm, saying at the time, 'Know you,
+fellow, Norman of Torn does not war upon women?'"
+
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn
+heard no more of himself during that evening.
+
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and
+then, on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an
+embrasure of the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of
+the necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to remain.
+
+"To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort," he said boldly, "I would forego
+any other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, but
+there are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away
+from you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father,
+Simon de Montfort, in Leicester. Provided," he added, "that you will
+welcome me there."
+
+"I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde," replied
+the girl.
+
+"Remember that promise," he said smiling. "Some day you may be glad to
+repudiate it."
+
+"Never," she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said it
+would have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women than
+was Norman of Torn.
+
+"I hope not," he said gravely. "I cannot tell you, being but poorly
+trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you
+might know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade de
+Montfort," and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his
+lips.
+
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few
+minutes later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at
+the castle and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a
+young woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden
+impulse, threw a kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear from
+the embrasure with the act.
+
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, he
+had much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he realized
+what might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of
+bitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whose
+teachings from the boy's earliest childhood had guided him in the ways
+that had cut him off completely from the society of other men, except
+the wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneath
+the grisly banner of the young chief of Torn.
+
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl
+who had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel
+shame for his past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so he
+could not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his
+strange likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with the
+words of Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was it a
+heinous offence to own an accidental likeness to a king's son?
+
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with
+closed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face
+from the sight of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from
+some inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father
+Claude dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. The
+austere stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory
+reputation, always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest;
+not alone because of the deep friendship which the master of Torn felt
+for the good father, but through the personal charm, and lovableness of
+the holy man's nature, which shone alike on saint and sinner.
+
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman,
+during the period that the boy's character was most amenable to strong
+impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respects
+pure and lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won for Father
+Claude his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose
+sole aim in life seemed to have been to smother every finer instinct of
+chivalry and manhood in the boy, to whose training he had devoted the
+past nineteen years of his life.
+
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey--fat people do not
+"dismount"--a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and to
+lead the animal to the stables.
+
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a
+question here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity
+that bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance.
+
+As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him
+laughing, though respectful, welcomes and within the great court,
+beautified with smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues
+and small shrubs and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now the
+principal lieutenant of Norman of Torn.
+
+"Good morrow, Saint Claude!" cried the burly ruffian. "Hast come to save
+our souls, or damn us? What manner of sacrilege have we committed now,
+or have we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come to scold, or
+praise?"
+
+"Neither, thou unregenerate villain," cried the priest, laughing.
+"Though methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with
+which thou didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week."
+
+"Tut, tut, Father," replied Red Shandy. "We did but aid him to adhere
+more closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and
+disciple he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of His
+Church to walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be ever
+surrounded with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold,
+to say nothing of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine?"
+
+"I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of
+wine as may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had
+finished with him," exclaimed Father Claude.
+
+"Yes, Father," laughed the great fellow, "for the sake of Holy Church, I
+did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must needs
+have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and you
+shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwich
+displays in the selection of his temptations."
+
+"They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
+Shandy," continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
+outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
+
+"One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the
+sun was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that
+single article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays of
+old sol. Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandals
+of the road, he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so
+that it could not be removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strapped
+face to tail upon a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattling
+down the dusty road with his head, at least, protected from the idle
+gaze of whomsoever he might chance to meet. Forty stripes he gave to
+each of the Bishop's retinue for being abroad in bad company; but come,
+here we are where you shall have the wine as proof of my tale."
+
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary, the little old man of
+Torn entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if
+he knew aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+
+"We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in
+the direction of your cottage," he concluded.
+
+"Why, yes," said the priest, "I saw him that day. He had an adventure
+with several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he
+rescued a damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be
+of the house of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son did
+not say whither or for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned his
+armor, while the girl waited without, was that I should now behold the
+falcon guarding the dove. Hast he not returned?"
+
+"No," said the old man, "and doubtless his adventure is of a nature
+in line with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed my
+training, without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an
+iron-barred nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English
+nobility. An' thou leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service
+in the household of the King."
+
+"Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here," said the priest
+quietly.
+
+"Why say you that?" snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claude
+narrowly.
+
+"Oh," laughed the priest, "because he whose power and mien be even more
+kingly than the King's would rightly grace the royal palace," but he had
+not failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did his
+off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+
+At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy's presence was
+required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful
+glance at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
+
+For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was
+presently broken by the old man of Torn.
+
+"Priest," he said, "thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to my
+liking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious
+time from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what benefit
+may a knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him. It
+may be years and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be a
+devil in hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet. And thou
+knowst it, and he too, as well as I. The things which thou hast taught
+him be above his station, and the hopes and ambitions they inspire will
+but make his end the bitterer for him. Of late I have noted that he
+rides upon the highway with less enthusiasm than was his wont, but he
+has gone too far ever to go back now; nor is there where to go back to.
+What has he ever been other than outcast and outlaw? What hopes could
+you have engendered in his breast greater than to be hated and feared
+among his blood enemies?"
+
+"I knowst not thy reasons, old man," replied the priest, "for devoting
+thy life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare
+not voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For all
+thou dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature,
+I have done and shall continue to do all in my power to controvert. As
+thou hast been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and
+when all is said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the King's
+gibbet, as I only too well fear he must, there will be more to mourn his
+loss than there be to curse him.
+
+"His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the
+friends and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more
+greatly to his honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+
+"Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his
+honor when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be
+forgotten in the greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
+
+"Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel
+and degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlaw
+of Torn, it will be thou--I had almost said, unnatural father; but I do
+not believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of him
+thou callest son."
+
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment,
+his face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and
+rage, but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+
+"Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear," he said bitterly,
+"but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past there has
+been peace between us, though no love; now let us both understand
+that it be war and hate. My life work is cut out for me. Others, like
+thyself, have stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they?
+Dost understand me, priest?" And the old man leaned far across the table
+so that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a few
+inches from those of the priest.
+
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+
+"I understand," he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the
+door, which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of
+permission. Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of
+Torn, and his face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
+
+"Greetings, my son," said the priest.
+
+"And to thee, Father," replied the outlaw, "And what may be the news of
+Torn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the castle?"
+
+"All be well at the castle," replied Father Claude, "if by that you mean
+have none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy, why
+wilt thou not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never been my
+way to scold or chide thee, yet always hath my heart ached for each
+crime laid at the door of Norman of Torn."
+
+"Come, come, Father," replied the outlaw, "what dost I that I have not
+good example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church. Murder,
+theft, rapine! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all
+perpetrated in the name of some of these?
+
+"Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous
+for the wolf to tear the sheep? Methinks not. Only do I collect from
+those who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they
+prey upon those who have naught.
+
+"Yet," and his manner suddenly changed, "I do not love it, Father. That
+thou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but there is
+none.
+
+"If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can I
+myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of
+this life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those very
+enemies I have been taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, there
+can be but one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope."
+
+"No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way," replied the good
+Father. "In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for such
+as thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman
+of Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the
+highest of the land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do not
+raise your hand. You be all these and more, for you have learning far
+beyond the majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a true
+chivalry of character. With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar your
+way to the highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have no
+future beyond the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn?"
+
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across
+his eyes as though to brush away a vision.
+
+"There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
+least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring."
+
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill
+was drawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had
+ridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome
+young knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her
+fairer friend.
+
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great
+court, their arms about each other's waists, pouring the last
+confidences into each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to
+return to Leicester.
+
+"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade," said Mary. "Wert my
+father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only the
+small escort which we be able to give."
+
+"Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade. "Five of thy father's knights be
+ample protection for so short a journey. By evening it will have been
+accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such
+a sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will
+venture again to molest me."
+
+"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?" urged Mary. "Only
+yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping to
+us with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his
+master's household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naught
+more horrible than to fall into his hands."
+
+"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman
+of Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father's
+castle. How be it thou so soon has changed thy mind?"
+
+"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what
+horrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond
+compare. Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's
+niece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred
+and his vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure
+my father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee
+instead of five."
+
+"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is on
+a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
+
+"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five
+knights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a
+mouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shall
+start tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day with
+the best of word from me."
+
+"If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly. "Indeed it were
+plain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be
+second only to their historic stubbornness."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
+
+"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad
+to protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of
+a truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere saw
+fight before."
+
+"Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination to
+leave on the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all
+unarmed, that still would you send back my father's knights."
+
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount
+to her cheek.
+
+"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.
+
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the
+discomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
+
+"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but
+now I seest that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to look
+upon, but what knowest thou of him?"
+
+"Hush, Mary!" commanded Bertrade. "Thou know not what thou sayest. I
+would not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and
+then--it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no
+word hath he sent."
+
+"Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind? My Lady
+would not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has sent
+her no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade."
+
+"I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaled
+foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward the
+castle.
+
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides
+of a little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout.
+His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner
+of his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby
+over his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his life
+and been given. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit
+of armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guest
+might be. It was the little armored man who was speaking.
+
+"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter," he said, "that
+you must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the
+passion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the
+maiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you."
+
+"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle?" asked
+Peter of Colfax.
+
+"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, if
+thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we
+may take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."
+
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of
+Leicester's to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest--the
+fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method of
+obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
+
+"Come," said the little, armored man irritably. "I cannot bide here
+forever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge,
+and if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and
+then not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."
+
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+
+"It is agreed," he said. "The men shall ride out with you in half an
+hour. Wait below in the courtyard."
+
+When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned his
+squire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
+
+"Guy," said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye made a rare fizzle
+of a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+"It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve
+thy blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in the
+courtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye
+lost to a handful of men before. You understand?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord!"
+
+"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us.
+At the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay
+him. Tell the others that these be my orders."
+
+"Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?"
+
+"At once. You may go."
+
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her
+father's castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary de
+Stutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting out
+upon such a dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de
+Montfort was firm.
+
+"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly
+that even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. I
+shall have enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add even
+one more day to my excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and my
+father may be sore distressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I must
+ride today." And so she did, with the five knights that could be spared
+from the castle's defence.
+
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so that
+they were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,
+wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and wind
+increased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in such
+blinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to
+the instincts of their mounts.
+
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were winding
+across a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest,
+into the somber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint of
+armor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the
+riders saw it not. On they came, their patient horses plodding slowly
+through the sticky road and hurtling storm.
+
+Now they were half way up the ridge's side. There was a movement in the
+dark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band
+of steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at full
+run down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before a
+blow could be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeled
+to meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for it
+took the entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slay
+the two.
+
+In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of her
+assailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs
+to her palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at a
+rapid pace in pursuit.
+
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de
+Montfort urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the
+arms of Peter of Colfax on the shields of several of the attacking
+party.
+
+Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beasts
+of her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tethered
+in their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying
+white steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies through
+the clouds.
+
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight,
+Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As it
+was, however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere,
+in the midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched across
+the roadway between two trees.
+
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,
+Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little,
+limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.
+
+There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount,
+so indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of
+Colfax, it was all the same to him. In either event, his purpose would
+be accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman of
+Torn from the path he had laid out for him.
+
+That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the
+Spaniard, the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose
+mean aid the little grim, gray man had purchased since many months to
+spy upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw.
+
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade de
+Montfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
+
+"Come," said the man called Guy, "if there be life left in her, we must
+hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct."
+
+"I leave ye here," said the little old man. "My part of the business is
+done."
+
+And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest
+toward the castle of Colfax.
+
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five
+knights of Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the other
+two, sorely but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and,
+with his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then,
+drawing his dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of
+the five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
+
+"And if one fact be not enough," he muttered, "that mark upon the dead
+will quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of
+Torn and Leicester."
+
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of a
+dozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their
+oldest son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+
+With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly
+along the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a white
+palfrey standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward the
+driving storm.
+
+"By God," cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own Abdul. There be
+something wrong here indeed." But a rapid search of the vicinity, and
+loud calls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, so
+they pressed on toward Stutevill.
+
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found,
+they came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied
+Bertrade from Stutevill.
+
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men.
+The arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had
+been Bertrade's escort from Stutevill.
+
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, there
+stared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreaded
+sign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point.
+
+"The curse of God be on him!" cried De Montfort. "It be the work of the
+Devil of Torn, my gentlemen," he said to his followers. "Come, we need
+no further guide to our destination." And, remounting, the little party
+spurred back toward Torn.
+
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a
+strange room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless
+old woman, whose smile was but a fangless snarl.
+
+"Ho, ho!" she croaked. "The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it would
+take more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come,
+now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarce
+restrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in the
+great hall he paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous
+countenance."
+
+"Who be ye?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from
+the effects of her fall. "Where am I?" and then, "O, Mon Dieu!" as she
+remembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon the
+shields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror of
+her predicament; its utter hopelessness.
+
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the
+King; and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause
+with Henry, for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she
+was the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
+
+In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet,
+and presently a man's voice at the door.
+
+"Within there, Coll! Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Peter," replied the old woman, "I was but just urging her to
+arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below."
+
+"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade," called the man, "no harm will be done
+thee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will await
+thee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here."
+
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the
+tones of her answer were calm and level.
+
+"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon," and rising, she hastened to
+dress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down the
+stairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl
+would not talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible
+means of escape.
+
+A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter
+of Colfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in the
+apartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl's glance ranged the
+hall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windows
+beyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God's pure air
+outside these stifling walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black as the
+inky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shades
+less begrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell upon the
+trophies of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, for
+she knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by the
+personal prowess of the present master of Colfax.
+
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from
+a small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather to
+accentuate the dim shadows of the place.
+
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table,
+blackened by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented
+and nicked by the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when
+wild and lusty brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of some
+wandering minstrel, or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains for
+the oath of fealty.
+
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy
+chairs which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and
+she shuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor
+which was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with such
+bones and scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
+
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but
+passing heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly
+have the encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store for
+her.
+
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that
+in addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, where
+she had entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall.
+This was at one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it led
+into a small room, apparently a bedchamber.
+
+As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her
+and directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From the
+black mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closed
+the panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl.
+At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract
+her attention.
+
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his
+appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as
+she said:
+
+"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery
+against thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece?"
+
+"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent," replied the
+pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, "love must still find
+its way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great
+father and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous
+Bertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after it
+since we didst first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I
+kneel to thee, my dove!" And with cracking joints the fat baron plumped
+down upon his marrow bones.
+
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into
+a sneering smile.
+
+"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter," she said, "and, at that, the worst species
+of fool--an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I will
+have none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word of
+what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, 'tis all
+I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would
+have. I do not love you, nor ever can I."
+
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already
+ruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise
+with dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact
+that his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours
+before he could rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow,
+raising his stern high in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gained
+his feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on
+her face.
+
+"Return to thy chamber," he thundered. "I will give thee until tomorrow
+to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or
+take another position in his household which will bar thee for all time
+from the society of thy kind."
+
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
+
+"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,
+degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast
+not the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well
+ye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own
+hand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me,
+his daughter." And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and
+mounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
+
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late the
+following afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before
+him once more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fears
+that she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire
+threat, and so she had again been casting about for some means of escape
+or delay.
+
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the
+castle, fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasure
+overlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.
+The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itself
+composed of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron.
+
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she could
+barricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate
+in the hope that succor might come from some source. But her most subtle
+wiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpy
+jailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herself
+for a lack of means to thwart her captor.
+
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the
+old woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
+
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the
+old woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl's
+body to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached
+quickly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quickly
+she sprang back from the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm,
+rushed upon her.
+
+"Back!" cried the girl. "Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel the
+length of thine own blade."
+
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a most
+horrible manner, at the same time calling for help.
+
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where
+she was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into
+place. Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of
+Colfax, with a dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly upon
+the outside.
+
+"What's wrong within, Coll," cried the Baron.
+
+"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me," shrieked
+the old woman.
+
+"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax," spoke Bertrade, "if you do
+not immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, for
+I will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own people
+stand without."
+
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all in
+vain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle
+the Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner
+out.
+
+Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding
+her prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single
+second. All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it
+found her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
+
+Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade
+her to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct
+to her father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be
+fooled by his lying tongue.
+
+"Then will I starve you out," he cried at length.
+
+"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,"
+replied the girl. "But thy old servant here will starve first, for she
+be very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you to
+kill two and still be robbed of thy prey?"
+
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would
+carry out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels,
+axes and saws upon the huge door.
+
+For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was
+late at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a
+hand and arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise the
+bars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thus
+the keen dagger in the girl's hand put an end to all hopes of entering
+without completely demolishing the door.
+
+To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter
+of Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had
+made. Bertrade replied but once.
+
+"Seest thou this poniard?" she asked. "When that door falls, this point
+enters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,
+to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable."
+
+As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the
+first time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance
+from the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a
+tigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the
+wrist which held the dagger.
+
+"Quick, My Lord!" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."
+
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the
+door and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old
+woman.
+
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at the
+Baron's bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
+
+As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode
+back and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he
+stopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
+
+"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?" he asked angrily.
+"I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of
+Colfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what
+be your answer now?"
+
+"The same as it has been these past two days," she replied with haughty
+scorn. "The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife nor
+mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die,
+it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to
+touch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king,
+wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!"
+
+"Hold, chit!" cried the Baron, livid with rage. "You have gone too far.
+Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere
+the sun rises." And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the
+arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his
+sojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with
+his wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a
+royalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fighting
+men; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of
+the barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their
+friends.
+
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of
+his expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a
+dozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn
+the mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible
+and unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen
+knights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of his
+great band of villains.
+
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,
+oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce
+and would have speech with the master of Torn.
+
+"Admit them, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn, "I will speak with them
+here."
+
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it
+found itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
+
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the
+outlaw.
+
+"Be ye Norman of Torn?" he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatred
+and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
+
+"They call me so," replied the visored knight. "And what may bring a De
+Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?"
+
+"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn," replied the young man.
+"It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you
+have us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid,
+only be quick and let me hence with my sister."
+
+"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean
+you?"
+
+"Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days
+since, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were
+fetching her home from a visit upon the Baron's daughter. We know that
+it was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark."
+
+"Shandy!" roared Norman of Torn. "WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon the
+road, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge during
+my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the truth!"
+
+"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served you
+well, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and that
+never have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor is
+it the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their
+dead that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves."
+
+"Henry de Montfort," said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, "we of
+Torn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say that
+we unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I give
+you the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?"
+
+"They say you never lie," replied De Montfort. "Would to God I knew who
+had done this thing, or which way to search for my sister."
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and
+it was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or
+his rage against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his
+whole being.
+
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed
+the drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and
+the noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+
+Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried their
+mailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman the
+Devil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the
+castle of Peter of Colfax.
+
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressed
+gates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
+
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient
+banded mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan.
+Gold and silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate
+and shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' head
+armor showed the rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman of
+Torn's wild raiders.
+
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the gray
+banner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of the
+five companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were covered
+with gray leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was the
+black falcon's wing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, being
+of dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstanding
+the richness of the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim,
+gray warlike appearance to these wild companies that comported well with
+their reputation.
+
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country of
+Europe, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf and
+noble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot,
+Pict and Irish.
+
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall
+marks of his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder to
+shoulder with the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisites
+for admission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and an
+oath to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.
+
+The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, each
+company captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
+
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first three
+companies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasoned
+veterans of a thousand fights.
+
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important
+post of chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five
+cut-throats whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before,
+in the hut of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle of
+Torn, which post included also the vital functions of quartermaster and
+commissary.
+
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in
+the art of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the
+companies, due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and their
+battles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they did not
+always come off unscathed, though usually victorious.
+
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at the
+head of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column.
+Above his gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest. It was
+the insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle.
+Where it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, and
+about it they were wont to rally.
+
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;
+nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
+
+At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: Red
+Shandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;
+and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
+
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early
+afternoon brought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave
+God-speed to them; but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn,
+where the black falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of its
+name than by the kindly deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of his
+neighborhood, they saw only closed and barred doors with an occasional
+frightened face peering from a tiny window.
+
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouetted
+against the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest
+a half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy
+and some fifty men to a point as close as they could come without being
+observed. Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthily
+forward alone.
+
+Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of
+the great gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shone
+dimly from the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was
+apparent. To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge
+lowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
+
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with
+its internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could
+reach a small antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
+
+And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of
+the little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood
+a strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girl
+saw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.
+
+"Draw!" commanded a low voice in English, "unless you prefer to pray,
+for you are about to die."
+
+"Who be ye, varlet?" cried the Baron. "Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To the rescue,
+quick!" he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to back quickly
+toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon him
+and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
+
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John and
+Guy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.
+
+"Ware! Sir Knight," cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushing
+to the aid of their master.
+
+Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon the
+terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the
+doorway bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions,
+and running quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threw
+the key with all her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instant
+she regretted her act, for she saw that where she might have reduced
+her rescuer's opponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardly
+Baron to remain, and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.
+
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and
+for an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition
+of swordsmanship she was witnessing.
+
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same
+time, the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced them
+steadily back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel about
+them. Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in the
+heart of one of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor,
+it was flashing again close to the breasts of the two remaining
+men-at-arms.
+
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl's
+attention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfax
+was moving--slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, toward
+the visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.
+
+For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a
+finger or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining
+control of her muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy
+foot-stool, hurled it full at Peter of Colfax.
+
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as the
+knight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
+
+As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported
+the only lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all was
+darkness. There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats
+and then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
+
+"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?" asked a grave English voice
+out of the darkness.
+
+"Quite, Sir Knight," she replied, "and you?"
+
+"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?"
+
+"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin long
+dagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon
+you."
+
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the
+room. Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeble
+rays slowly penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of
+the three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visored
+knight; but Peter of Colfax was gone.
+
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed a
+low, grim laugh.
+
+"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade," he said.
+
+"How know you my name?" she asked. "Who may you be? I do not recognize
+your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms."
+
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled
+with the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde
+who had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short
+weeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and
+there was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Roger
+de Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it
+was true, with a slight French accent.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the visored knight with
+quiet dignity.
+
+The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. For
+years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred
+against her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by the
+vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had
+come to whisper the name with grim, set lips.
+
+"Norman of Torn!" she whispered. "May God have mercy on my soul!"
+
+Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across
+the countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of
+hopelessness, shook his giant frame.
+
+"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly. "You shall be in your
+father's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will be
+safer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own
+mighty father, or your royal uncle."
+
+"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn," spoke the girl, "and I
+believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort."
+
+"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
+Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me to
+do as I do, that is all. Come."
+
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered
+drawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in
+answer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it
+was he.
+
+"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,
+alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy,
+when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,
+Shandy."
+
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been
+a weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object
+of his many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern
+and signing him to listen, said:
+
+"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for
+the love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague
+generality. Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade
+de Montfort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy,
+from tower to scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting."
+
+"Yes, My Lord," answered Shandy, and departed with his little
+detachment.
+
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of
+Colfax.
+
+"He has flown, My Lord," the big fellow reported, and indeed it was
+true. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle
+and, by a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some
+priests without the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he was
+several miles on his way to the coast and France; for he had recognized
+the swordsmanship of the outlaw, and did not care to remain in England
+and face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.
+
+"He will return," was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fully
+convinced that the Baron had escaped.
+
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places,
+the prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully
+expecting a summary and horrible death.
+
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now
+save the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the
+warriors filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de
+Montfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed
+and free.
+
+As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames
+that sprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smoke
+rolled southward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear away
+from the burning castle for an instant to show the black walls pierced
+by their hundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the raging
+fire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common
+in those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than a
+passing backward glance.
+
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended
+their slow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was both
+elated and sad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girl
+who awakened such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a
+loathesome thing in her eyes. But that it was pure happiness just to be
+near her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow, what use to think!
+The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did not
+dare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfort
+to Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlaw
+swore quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ride
+without either fighting or loot.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe her
+life and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especial
+hatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house of
+Plantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken
+for so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might lie
+beneath that barred visor.
+
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle's
+cantel and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air
+was chilly, and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad
+place in the road, lest the beast might slip and fall.
+
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond
+that, no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about
+midday within sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of
+so large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailing
+distance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting
+men.
+
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the
+castle walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
+
+"Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?"
+
+"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De
+Montfort," replied Shandy. "He would enter with one companion, my Lord
+Earl."
+
+"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort--thinks he
+that I keep a robbers' roost!" cried the fierce old warrior.
+
+"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England," boasted the
+red giant. "Will you see him in peace, My Lord?"
+
+"Let him enter," said De Montfort, "but no knavery, now, we are a
+thousand men here, well armed and ready fighters."
+
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of
+Torn and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath
+the portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of
+Henry III of England.
+
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it
+had been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's men
+without being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de
+Montfort, and his sons Henry and Simon.
+
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside
+the outlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
+
+"What means this," cried De Montfort, "has the rascal offered you harm
+or indignity?"
+
+"You craven liar," cried Henry de Montfort, "but yesterday you swore
+upon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool,
+believed." And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman
+of Torn with drawn sword.
+
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew
+from its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the
+blade of young De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then,
+before either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung
+between them and placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw,
+stretched forth the other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as
+though to protect Norman of Torn from further assault.
+
+"Be he outlaw or devil," she cried, "he is a brave and courteous knight,
+and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitality
+they can give, and not cold steel and insults." Then she explained
+briefly to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen during
+the past few days.
+
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the first
+to step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and to
+ask his pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
+
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+
+"Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of
+Torn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing
+moment; but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude,
+but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil,
+and that you have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I would
+gladly have your friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of
+Torn, with all his faults, as well as what virtues you may think him to
+possess."
+
+"You are right, sir," said the Earl, "you have our gratitude and our
+thanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and ever
+during our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery and
+your candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not
+break bread at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the right
+to do."
+
+"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man," said Norman of Torn
+quietly. "I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel with
+the House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they
+are at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye." But as he turned to
+go, Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
+
+"You must take my hand in friendship," she said, "for, to my dying day,
+I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror from
+which he has rescued me."
+
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee
+raised them to his lips.
+
+"To no other--woman, man, king, God, or devil--has Norman of Torn bent
+the knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his
+services are yours for the asking."
+
+And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of
+the castle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his five
+hundred men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in
+the roadway.
+
+"A strange man," said Simon de Montfort, "both good and bad, but from
+today, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were other
+than he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies of
+England, an he could be persuaded to our cause."
+
+"Who knows," said Henry de Montfort, "but that an offer of friendship
+might have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was a
+note of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Several days after Norman of Torn's visit to the castle of Leicester,
+a young knight appeared before the Earl's gates demanding admittance to
+have speech with Simon de Montfort. The Earl received him, and as the
+young man entered his presence, Simon de Montfort, sprang to his feet in
+astonishment.
+
+"My Lord Prince," he cried. "What do ye here, and alone?"
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+"I be no prince, My Lord," he said, "though some have said that I favor
+the King's son. I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have pleased your
+gracious daughter to mention. I have come to pay homage to Bertrade de
+Montfort."
+
+"Ah," said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially, "an
+you be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows of
+Peter of Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+
+"Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her return.
+She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father. She has told
+us of your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her brothers
+and mother await you, Roger de Conde.
+
+"She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until I
+saw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different mothers
+and yet be so identical. Come, we will seek out my daughter and her
+mother."
+
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were greeted
+by Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort. The girl was
+frankly glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him because he
+had allowed another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her from Peter
+of Colfax.
+
+"And to think," she cried, "that it should have been Norman of Torn who
+fulfilled your duties for you. But he did not capture Sir Peter's head,
+my friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon a golden
+dish."
+
+"I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade," said Roger de Conde. "Peter of
+Colfax will return."
+
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+
+"The very words of the Outlaw of Torn," she said. "How many men be ye,
+Roger de Conde? With raised visor, you could pass in the King's court
+for the King's son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and your
+visor lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of Torn."
+
+"And which would it please ye most that I be?" he laughed.
+
+"Neither," she answered, "I be satisfied with my friend, Roger de
+Conde."
+
+"So ye like not the Devil of Torn?" he asked.
+
+"He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligations
+to him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of an
+earl and a king's sister."
+
+"A most unbridgeable gulf indeed," commented Roger de Conde, drily. "Not
+even gratitude could lead a king's niece to receive Norman of Torn on a
+footing of equality."
+
+"He has my friendship, always," said the girl, "but I doubt me if Norman
+of Torn be the man to impose upon it."
+
+"One can never tell," said Roger de Conde, "what manner of fool a man
+may be. When a man's head be filled with a pretty face, what room be
+there for reason?"
+
+"Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning of
+pretty compliments," said the girl coldly; "and I like not courtiers,
+nor their empty, hypocritical chatter."
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"If I turned a compliment, I did not know it," he said. "What I think, I
+say. It may not be a courtly speech or it may. I know nothing of courts
+and care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what is in
+my mind or I say nothing. I did not, in so many words, say that you are
+beautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry with
+my poor eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer woman
+breathes the air of England. Nor can you chide my sinful brain that it
+gladly believes what mine eyes tell it. No, you may not be angry so long
+as I do not tell you all this."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous a
+sophistry; and, truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear from
+the lips of Roger de Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, and
+before his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way into
+the good graces of the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+
+Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire life,
+yet it seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their kind as
+though he had always been among them. His starved soul, groping through
+the darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting and the
+light of friendship, and urged him to turn his back upon the old life,
+and remain ever with these people, for Simon de Montfort had offered the
+young man a position of trust and honor in his retinue.
+
+"Why refused you the offer of my father?" said Bertrade to him as he
+was come to bid her farewell. "Simon de Montfort is as great a man in
+England as the King himself, and your future were assured did you attach
+your self to his person. But what am I saying! Did Roger de Conde not
+wish to be elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it is
+proof positive that he does not wish to bide among the De Montforts."
+
+"I would give my soul to the devil," said Norman of Torn, "would it buy
+me the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade Montfort."
+
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak,
+but something--was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her little
+fingers, a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body toward
+him?--caused him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep into
+the eyes of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh that
+was half gasp, she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the
+King's niece in his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a great
+love upon those that were upturned to him.
+
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself.
+
+"Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade," he cried, "what is this thing that I have
+done! Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love for
+you plead in extenuation of my act."
+
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong
+white hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:
+
+"See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it is
+not, Roger."
+
+"You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a craven
+poltroon; but, God, how I love you."
+
+"But," said the girl, "I do love--"
+
+"Stop," he cried, "not yet, not yet. Do not say it till I come again.
+You know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when next I
+come, I promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, and
+then, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, 'I love you' no power
+on earth, or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from being
+mine!"
+
+"I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you. I do not
+understand, but I know that you must have some good reason, though
+it all seems very strange to me. If I, a De Montfort, am willing to
+acknowledge my love for any man, there can be no reason why I should
+not do so, unless," and she started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed and
+paling, "unless there be another woman, a--a--wife?"
+
+"There is no other woman, Bertrade," said Norman of Torn. "I have
+no wife; nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever before
+touched the lips of another, for I do not remember my mother."
+
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:
+
+"It is some old woman's bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark corner
+of your imagination to frighten yourself with. I do not fear, since I
+know that you must be all good. There be no line of vice or deception
+upon your face and you are very brave. So brave and noble a man, Roger,
+has a heart of pure gold."
+
+"Don't," he said, bitterly. "I cannot endure it. Wait until I come again
+and then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in your heart
+to speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be at
+zenith. Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father.
+Farewell, Bertrade, in a few days I return."
+
+"If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent young
+puppy, you may save your breath," thundered an angry voice, and Simon de
+Montfort strode, scowling, into the room.
+
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood
+of the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She faced
+him with as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned
+slowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze.
+
+"I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor,"
+continued the latter, "to readily guess what had gone before. So it
+is for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home? And
+thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head
+of the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught
+we know, some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that I
+do not aid you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good."
+
+"Stop!" cried the girl. "Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Roger
+de Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse,
+herself befouled and dishonored?"
+
+"I do not forget," replied the Earl, "and it is because I remember that
+my sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply repaid by
+the friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
+clean the score. An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I
+lose my temper."
+
+"There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord," spoke
+Norman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. "Your
+daughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate asking
+you for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if she
+will have me, My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed
+her. Norm--Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he would
+do."
+
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to
+control himself to say,
+
+"My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
+negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis
+of France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
+Outlaw of Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be
+known outside his own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor let
+me see your face again within the walls of Leicester's castle."
+
+"You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be
+quarreling with words," said the outlaw. "Farewell, My Lady. I shall
+return as I promised, and your word shall be law." And with a profound
+bow to De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a few
+minutes was riding through the courtyard of the castle toward the main
+portals.
+
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called to
+him from above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"Take this, Roger de Conde," she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel to
+him, "and wear it ever, for my sake. We may never meet again, for the
+Earl my father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions;
+therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my saying.
+I love you, and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if you can
+find the means to take me."
+
+"Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye be
+of the same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye. Again,
+farewell." And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn
+passed out of the castle yard.
+
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found that
+it contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal.
+
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and then
+slipped it upon the third finger of his left hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester "in a few
+days," nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade de
+Montfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+
+From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks
+on royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even
+Berkshire and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the
+outlaw.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form
+of Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard
+no word from her.
+
+He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he had
+parted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had left
+his brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of
+his hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean only
+suffering and mortification for the woman he loved.
+
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from
+the subtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love,
+would doubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in the
+heat of a divine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw them
+together, and should that ever chance, while she was still free, he
+would let her know that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one
+and the same.
+
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No it is impossible.
+It is better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored,
+the wife of a common highwayman; for though she might love me at first,
+the bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate.
+
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father
+Claude, the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations;
+the unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand
+which Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King and
+baron were declared.
+
+"It would seem that Henry," said the priest, "by his continued breaches
+of both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging the
+barons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince
+Edward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carry
+the ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces me
+that he be, by this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and his
+associates."
+
+"If that be the case," said Norman of Torn, "we shall have war and
+fighting in real earnest ere many months."
+
+"And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?" asked
+Father Claude.
+
+"Under the black falcon's wing," laughed he of Torn.
+
+"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son," said the priest, smiling.
+"Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierly
+qualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in
+the paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?"
+
+"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't. I have one more duty
+to perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thy
+suggestion, but only on one condition."
+
+"What be that, my son?"
+
+"That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; in
+truth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old
+man of Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I much
+mistrust, be no father to me."
+
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes before
+he spoke.
+
+Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the
+windows, listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came
+to his attentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirely
+concealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid his
+traitorous form.
+
+At length the priest spoke.
+
+"Norman of Torn," he said, "so long as thou remain in England, pitting
+thy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons of
+his realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself hast
+said an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatred
+against them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselessly
+away to satisfy the choler of another.
+
+"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I
+guess and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope
+that it be false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the
+question to be settled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I be
+an old man and versed in reading true between the lines, and so I know
+that thou lovest Bertrade de Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And now,
+what I would say be this. In all England there lives no more honorable
+man than Simon de Montfort, nor none who could more truly decide upon
+thy future and thy past. Thou may not understand of what I hint, but
+thou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father," replied the outlaw.
+
+"Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt come
+hither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by his
+decision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be the
+best judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless."
+
+"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride
+south."
+
+"It shall be by the third day, or not at all," replied Father Claude,
+and Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of
+the lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw
+chief and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim,
+gray, old man.
+
+As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in
+anger.
+
+"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted
+near twenty years," he muttered, "if I find not the means to quiet his
+half-wit tongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now.
+Well then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now be
+as good a time as any. If we come near enough to the King's men on this
+trip south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shall
+taste the fruits of his own tyranny," then glancing up and realizing
+that Spizo, the Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling,
+cried:
+
+"What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?"
+
+"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently," replied the
+Spaniard.
+
+The old man eyed him closely.
+
+"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of
+Father Claude and entered.
+
+"I am honored," said the priest, rising.
+
+"Priest," cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, "Norman
+of Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here. I
+know not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not out
+thy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best that
+this meeting take place after we return from the south."
+
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so
+the latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until
+later.
+
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the head
+of his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward London
+town. One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and other
+servants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents and
+other impedimenta, and bring back the loot.
+
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left to
+guard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+
+At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray,
+old man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the
+catapult detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, with
+his company, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance of
+the column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling of
+sword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and ear
+ample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon no
+peaceful mission.
+
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whom
+we have met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron
+of Cobarth of Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like their
+leader, each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon his
+head, and the story of the life of any one would fill a large volume
+with romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery and death.
+
+Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they
+came upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meeting
+was at a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other
+before the ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair
+wards.
+
+"What the devil be this," cried one of the knights, as the main body of
+the outlaw horde came into view, "the King's army or one of his foreign
+legions?"
+
+"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men," replied the outlaw.
+
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand,
+and there were two women with them.
+
+"Who be ye?" said the outlaw.
+
+"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest knight, he who
+had first spoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de
+Stutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would you
+of us? Name your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid;
+only let us go our way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil of
+Torn, for we be but ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let the
+women go unharmed."
+
+"My Lady Mary is an old friend," said the outlaw. "I called at her
+father's home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, and
+the lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of
+Torn than they might be in the King's palace."
+
+"Right he is," spoke up Lady Mary, "Norman of Torn accorded my mother,
+my sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as much
+for his treatment of my father," she added, half smiling.
+
+"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said Norman of Torn.
+"Ride on."
+
+The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle
+of Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger
+de Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+
+In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Norman
+of Torn trotted into the courtyard.
+
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tany
+were waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an old
+friend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming her
+friend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle.
+
+"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex," cried
+Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. "Today it is Roger de
+Conde, yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home."
+
+"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from
+Roger de Conde," said Mary, smiling. "For I have heard tales, and I
+see a great ring upon the gentleman's hand--a ring which I have seen
+before."
+
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but
+asked bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"Thrice within the year have I received missives from her," replied
+Mary. "In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why
+he did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not
+his name, but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip."
+
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly,
+but no sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his
+face.
+
+"I guess it be better so," he said quietly. "The daughter of a De
+Montfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer," he added,
+a little bitterly.
+
+"You wrong her, my friend," said Mary de Stutevill. "She loved you and,
+unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself,
+she loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what
+can you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thought
+you that she would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the
+alliance her father has made for her?"
+
+"You do not understand," he answered, "and I may not tell you; but I ask
+that you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of mind,
+for her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But, let us
+talk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it upon
+others. I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. It
+will never be given to me to make her or any other woman so. I would
+that I had never come into her life, but I did not know what I was
+doing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness was strong upon me, so
+that I was weak and could not resist what I had never known before in
+all my life--love."
+
+"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously. "Bertrade
+de Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benediction
+simply to have known her."
+
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first
+time, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she
+spoke, her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of
+intelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.
+Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried
+a wounded heart in his breast that longed for surcease from its
+sufferings--for a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises.
+
+And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a
+daily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance
+between the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and
+with one of them, it threatened even more.
+
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only
+friendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard
+and lonely one. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had
+entered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
+
+His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him,
+but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the
+friendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dream
+that either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweet
+friendliness which was as new to him as love--how could he mark the line
+between or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!
+
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow
+in matters of the heart--many there were, she knew, who were thus. She
+might have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let
+things drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
+
+"Be careful of thy heart, Joan," she said, "lest it be getting away from
+thee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than he
+forgets."
+
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+
+"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill,"
+she replied warmly. "If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so. Do
+not think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine is
+equally susceptible."
+
+It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on her
+tongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.
+Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
+
+"I do not love him," she said, "and I be glad that you do not, for
+I know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore
+undying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject."
+
+It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands of
+the rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stinging
+defeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe
+for small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into the
+hands of the mercenaries of Henry III.
+
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the
+attacks of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find them
+suffering imprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King's
+supporters.
+
+And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan de
+Tany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of the
+merchants.
+
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King's
+party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of
+London was beset with many dangers.
+
+"Why," cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "between robbers and
+royalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an
+army to escort you."
+
+"But then, as I have no army," retorted the laughing girl, "if you
+reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe."
+
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him with
+being afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he
+might remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.
+
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road
+to London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger de
+Conde was of the party.
+
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from the
+outlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders
+were to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany,
+with Roger de Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he
+bore to the captain of the gate.
+
+The letter contained this brief message:
+
+"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn," and was
+unsigned.
+
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who
+had attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered two
+parties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leader
+of the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and,
+reining in before them, cried brusquely,
+
+"Who be ye?"
+
+"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London," replied Norman
+of Torn.
+
+"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow. "I asked, who be ye?
+Answer, and be quick about it."
+
+"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters and
+servants," lied the outlaw, "and were it not that the ladies be with me,
+your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorish
+insolence."
+
+"There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a French
+coward," cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
+
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Roger
+de Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw and
+understood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as he
+heard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.
+
+Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were
+some ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together the
+impact was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two
+powerful war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each
+struck the exact center of his opponent's shield. Then, wheeling their
+horses and throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde
+and the officer advanced with drawn swords.
+
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting
+to ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from
+the tip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew
+the battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling
+and turning shoulder to shoulder.
+
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the
+eyes of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed
+every move of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
+
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim
+and haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many words
+the utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And as
+Joan de Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hard
+line, and the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman's
+intuition read the death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword of
+the outlaw buried itself in his heart.
+
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat
+spellbound as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpse
+rolled from the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his
+little party.
+
+The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even
+with the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was
+apparent from the first.
+
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to
+the thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their
+saddles as his leaping point found their vitals.
+
+Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one, an old servitor,
+spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.
+
+"Come, my ladies," he cried, "quick and you may escape. They be so busy
+with the battle that they will never notice."
+
+"Take the Lady Mary, John," cried Joan, "I brought Roger de Conde to
+this pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end."
+
+"But, My Lady--" cried John.
+
+"But nothing, sirrah!" she interrupted sharply. "Do as you are bid.
+Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father's castle in
+safety," and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey across
+the rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leaped
+frantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they
+had come.
+
+"After her, John," commanded Joan peremptorily, "and see that you turn
+not back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring
+aid."
+
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan from
+her earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that he
+wheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Mary
+de Stutevill.
+
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fully
+twenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy
+toll of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked
+him from behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full
+upon his helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as his
+lifeless body rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-tramped
+clay of the highroad.
+
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his
+prostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling,
+steel-clad horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. And
+well it was for Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day,
+for even as she reached his side, the sword point of one of the soldiers
+was at his throat for the coup de grace.
+
+With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body,
+shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword.
+
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her
+from his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped up
+and drew rein beside the party.
+
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,
+black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often
+seen upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor to
+positions of power and affluence.
+
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for
+years one of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort
+and the barons.
+
+"What now?" he cried. "What goes on here?"
+
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+
+"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routed
+them, taking these two prisoners."
+
+"Who be ye?" he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside De
+Conde, and as she raised her head, "My God! The daughter of De Tany! a
+noble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?"
+
+"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl," replied the girl removing the helm,
+which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
+
+"Edward?" he ejaculated. "But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterday
+leave Edward in Dover."
+
+"I know not who he be," said Joan de Tany, "except that he be the most
+marvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see.
+He called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than
+that he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has no
+quarrel with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make
+war on women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your
+soldiers wantonly set upon us."
+
+"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troublous
+times," replied the Earl, "and that alone were enough to necessitate my
+keeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so I
+will grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, but
+a prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need the
+cheering company of a fair and loving lady."
+
+The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
+
+"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to
+some comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honored
+in England, even though it does not share the King's favors with his
+foreign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?"
+
+"All be fair in war, my beauty," replied the Earl. "Egad," he continued,
+"methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you. It has been
+some years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richard
+de Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle."
+
+"Then you refuse to release us?" said Joan de Tany.
+
+"Let us not put it thus harshly," countered the Earl. "Rather let us say
+that it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers that
+the Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautiful
+daughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so--"
+
+"Let us have an end to such foolishness," cried the girl. "I might have
+expected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee,
+who once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his
+friends to curry favor with the King."
+
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the
+girl, but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers,
+saying:
+
+"Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I would
+learn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crown
+prince."
+
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel
+baron which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as
+headquarters by De Fulm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a small
+tower room in a strange castle. His head ached horribly, and he felt
+sick and sore; but he managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, and
+by steadying his swaying body with hands pressed against the wall, he
+was able to reach the door. To his disappointment, he found this locked
+from without and, in his weakened condition, he made no attempt to force
+it.
+
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, but
+his helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened,
+he became more and more impatient. Repeated pounding upon the door
+brought no response and finally he gave up in despair. Going to
+the window, he saw that his room was some thirty feet above the
+stone-flagged courtyard, and also that it looked at an angle upon other
+windows in the old castle where lights were beginning to show. He saw
+men-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he caught a glimpse of a
+woman's figure, but he was not sure.
+
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. He
+hoped that they had escaped, and yet--no, Joan certainly had not, for
+now he distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instant
+just before the blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith and
+confidence that he had read in that quick glance. Such a look would
+nerve a jackal to attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw. What a
+beautiful creature she was; and she had stayed there with him during the
+fight. He remembered now. Mary de Stutevill had not been with her as he
+had caught that glimpse of her, no, she had been all alone. Ah! That was
+friendship indeed!
+
+What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of his
+bruised and wavering memory? Words? Words of love? And lips pressed to
+his? No, it must be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate? He felt, and found
+a metal bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of silken
+hair. He carried the little thing to the window, and in the waning light
+made it out to be a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, but
+he could not tell if the little strand of silken hair were black or
+brown. Carefully he detached the little thing, and, winding the filmy
+tress about it, placed it within the breast of his tunic. He was vaguely
+troubled by it, yet why he could scarcely have told, himself.
+
+Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within his
+vision, and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knight
+coming within the scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+
+From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently in
+heated discussion with some one whom Norman of Torn could not see. The
+man, a great, tall black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pounding
+upon a table to emphasize his words, and presently he sprang up
+as though rushing toward the one to whom he had been speaking. He
+disappeared from the watcher's view for a moment and then, at the far
+side of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him again just as he roughly
+grasped the figure of a woman who evidently was attempting to escape
+him. As she turned to face her tormentor, all the devil in the Devil of
+Torn surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was that of Joan de
+Tany.
+
+With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself against
+the bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavy
+feet without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was
+fitted to the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wall
+beside the doorway, where the inswinging door would conceal him.
+
+As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly,
+the interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, the
+visitor did not see that the cot was empty.
+
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword. That was enough for
+the Devil of Torn--it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellow
+could assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed
+upon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw.
+
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, and
+the clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger at
+his side, the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+
+Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tugging
+with ever diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath.
+Slowly and feebly he raised it high above the back of the man on top of
+him; with a last supreme effort he drove the point downward, but ere it
+reached its goal, there was a sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone,
+the dagger fell harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolled
+backward upon his broken neck.
+
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of Torn
+rushed from the tower room.
+
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joan
+de Tany, she turned upon him like a tigress. Blow after blow she rained
+upon his head and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her
+full upon the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this did not subdue
+her and, with ever weakening strength, she continued to strike him. And
+then the great royalist Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took the
+fair white throat between his great fingers, and the lust of blood
+supplanted the lust of love, for he would have killed her in his rage.
+
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword.
+They were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at the
+sight caused the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to
+meet him.
+
+There were no words, for there was no need of words here. The two men
+were upon each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl had
+regained her feet. It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had
+not some of his men heard the fracas, and rushed to his aid.
+
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room,
+fairly falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swords
+into him; but once they met that master hand, they went more slowly, and
+in a moment, two of them went no more at all, and the others, with the
+Earl, were but circling warily in search of a chance opening--an opening
+which never came.
+
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the
+room, and behind him stood Joan de Tany.
+
+"Move toward the left," she whispered. "I know this old pile. When
+you reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway
+directly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my
+hand in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, which
+you must turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the
+meantime keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl was
+careful to keep out of reach of the point of De Conde's sword, and the
+men-at-arms were nothing loath to emulate their master's example.
+
+Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
+emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came
+too close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman of
+Torn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword
+swung with a resounding blow against the lamp.
+
+As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through
+the little door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had
+instructed.
+
+"This way," she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
+silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped
+before a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.
+
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. More
+and more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded
+through the castle.
+
+"What is wrong?" asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
+perturbation.
+
+"Mon Dieu!" she cried. "Can I be wrong! Surely this is the room. Oh, my
+friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness and
+vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I forget the
+way."
+
+"Do not worry about me," laughed the Devil of Torn. "Methought that it
+was I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else,
+for surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a handful of
+swords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan," he
+added more gravely.
+
+The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
+flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.
+
+At last the girl, with a little cry of "stupid," seized De Conde and
+rushed him to the far side of the room.
+
+"Here it is," she whispered joyously, "here it has been all the time."
+Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little hidden
+spring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in,
+revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panel
+swung quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen men
+entered the apartment.
+
+"The devil take them," cried De Fulm. "Where can they have gone? Surely
+we were right behind them."
+
+"It is passing strange, My Lord," replied one of the men. "Let us try
+the floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have not come this
+way." And the party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment empty.
+
+Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand
+still in his.
+
+"Where now?" he asked. "Or do we stay hidden here like frightened chicks
+until the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of this musty
+hole?"
+
+"Wait," she answered, "until I quiet my nerves a little. I am all
+unstrung." He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his.
+
+With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his
+arm fell about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be brave
+and powerful; naught can harm you while I am here.
+
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it by
+the sheltering darkness.
+
+"Roger," she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name.
+"I thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolish
+stubbornness. Canst forgive me?"
+
+"Forgive?" he asked, smiling to himself. "Forgive being given an
+opportunity to fight? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it be
+that I should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly."
+
+"Do not say that," she commanded. "Never was such bravery or such
+swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man."
+
+He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts. The
+feel of her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vague
+caress upon his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned
+against him sent the hot blood coursing through his veins. He was
+puzzled, for he had not dreamed that friendship was so sweet. That she
+did not shrink from his encircling arms should have told him much, but
+Norman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman might look upon him with
+love. Nor had he a thought of any other sentiment toward her than that
+of friend and protector.
+
+And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautiful
+face--Bertrade de Montfort's--and Norman of Torn was still more puzzled;
+for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within him.
+Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all his
+starved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men or
+women, it is little to be wondered at that he was easily impressionable
+and responsive to the feeling his strong personality had awakened in two
+of England's fairest daughters.
+
+But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faint
+realization that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendship
+or fear which caused that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him.
+That the responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaintance
+had so quickly reached was not his had never for a moment entered his
+head. To him, the fault was all his; and perhaps it was this quality of
+chivalry that was the finest of the many noble characteristics of his
+sterling character. So his next words were typical of the man; and did
+Joan de Tany love him, or did she not, she learned that night to respect
+and trust him as she respected and trusted few men of her acquaintance.
+
+"My Lady," said Norman of Torn, "we have been through much, and we are
+as little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon our
+acquaintance," and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, "I ask
+you to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and from
+the pain of the blow upon my head."
+
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his hand
+and led him forward through a dark, cold corridor.
+
+"We must go carefully now," she said at last, "for there be stairs
+near."
+
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps than
+conditions required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward,
+very slowly down a flight of rough stone steps.
+
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being new
+at love, he blundered.
+
+"Joan de Tany," he said.
+
+"Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?"
+
+"You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me. Tell me that you
+forgive what I have done, an it offended you. I have so few friends," he
+added sadly, "that I cannot afford to lose such as you."
+
+"You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany," she answered. "You
+have won her respect and--and--" But she could not say it and so she
+trailed off lamely--"and undying gratitude."
+
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he dared
+to let her. He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade de
+Montfort before him; and now another vision arose that would effectually
+have sealed his lips had not the other--he saw the Outlaw of Torn
+dangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet.
+
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it,
+and while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for
+him, again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did
+not return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survive
+the knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany
+led him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a
+large chamber. The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no
+ray of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the
+stillness.
+
+"This be the castle's crypt," whispered Joan; "and they do say that
+strange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, and
+that when the castle sleeps, the castle's dead rise from their coffins
+and shake their dry bones.
+
+"Sh! What was that?" as a rustling noise broke upon their ears close
+upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
+fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn's arms.
+
+"There is nothing to fear, Joan," reassured Norman of Torn. "Dead men
+wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think, and rats
+are our only companions here."
+
+"I am afraid," she whispered. "If you can make a light, I am sure
+you will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less
+fearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search of
+adventure, we passed through these corridors an hundred times, but
+always by day and with lights."
+
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. The
+chamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some
+effigies in marble set at intervals about the walls.
+
+"Not such a fearsome place after all," he said, laughing lightly.
+
+"No place would seem fearsome now," she answered simply, "were there a
+light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my side."
+
+"Hush, child," replied the outlaw. "You know not what you say. When you
+know me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde is
+not what you think him. So say no more of praise until we be out of this
+hole, and you safe in your father's halls."
+
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to again
+bring the girl's face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet breath
+upon his cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to her.
+
+With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a few
+moments, reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway.
+
+"This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle. We
+have passed beneath the walls and the moat. What may we do now, Roger,
+without horses?"
+
+"Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the
+cover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to your
+father's castle," replied Norman of Torn.
+
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch
+upon the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and
+stepped forth into the fresh night air.
+
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had
+there ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it
+was with difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling
+creepers and tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell before
+they had taken a score of steps.
+
+"I fear I am not strong enough," she said finally. "The way is much more
+difficult than I had thought."
+
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on
+through the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine. It
+required the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to
+the roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and her
+hair brushed his cheek. Once when she lifted her head to speak to him,
+he bent toward her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushed
+hers. He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint sigh
+breathed from her lips.
+
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mist
+was before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered
+those warm lips with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers,
+closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear
+cut and distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of
+Torn swinging by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside it
+knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels. Her face
+was averted and her arms were outstretched toward the dangling form that
+swung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was racked with
+choking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to her
+feet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her
+features for an instant then--the woman who openly and alone mourned the
+dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan
+de Tany to the ground. In that instant Norman of Torn had learned the
+difference between friendship and love, and love and passion.
+
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyed
+and wondering, toward him. She had felt the wild call of love and she
+could not understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no
+vision beyond a life of happiness within those strong arms.
+
+"Joan," he said, "I would but now have wronged thee. Forgive me. Forget
+what has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightful
+colors, when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer upon
+us, and then,"--he paused--"and then I shall tell you who I be and you
+shall say if you still care to call me friend--no more than that shall I
+ask."
+
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort, but it had been a thousand times better had he done so.
+
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from the
+surrounding shadows, calling upon them to surrender. The moonlight
+falling upon the leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with an
+enormous, bristling mustache--it was Shandy.
+
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+
+"It is I, Shandy," he said. "Keep a still tongue in thy head until I
+speak with thee apart. Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be friends."
+
+Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow had
+become alarmed at his chief's continued absence, and had set out with
+a small party to search for him. They had come upon the riderless Sir
+Mortimer grazing by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, had
+discovered evidences of the conflict at the cross-roads. There they had
+found Norman of Torn's helmet, confirming their worst fears. A peasant
+in a nearby hut had told them of the encounter, and had set them upon
+the road taken by the Earl and his prisoners.
+
+"And here we be, My Lord," concluded the great fellow.
+
+"How many are you?" asked the outlaw.
+
+"Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes."
+
+"Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us," said the chief.
+"And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night with the
+Outlaw of Torn."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany.
+
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprang
+out of the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, a
+gentleman of France.
+
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where had
+she seen that mighty frame before? And now she looked closely at the
+figure of Roger de Conde. Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two men
+together; but where and when?
+
+And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind. Roger de
+Conde spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words upon
+this man's lips as he addressed the red giant.
+
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who had
+picked it up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with lowered
+visor, as was his custom.
+
+There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the moonlight
+touched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who rode behind
+him, a little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, and
+a great shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+
+"Open! Open for My Lady Joan."
+
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle and
+excitement. A dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out still
+others without waiting for replies.
+
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fully
+clothed, having not lain down during the whole night. They fairly fell
+upon Joan and Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+
+"Come, come," said the Baron, "let us go within. You must be fair
+famished for good food and drink."
+
+"I will ride, My Lord," replied Norman of Torn. "I have a little matter
+of business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham. Business which I
+fear will not wait."
+
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence. Nor did she urge him to remain, as he
+raised her hand to his lips in farewell. So Norman of Torn rode out of
+the courtyard; and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays of
+the drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched them through the gate,
+and a great light broke upon her, for what she saw was the same as she
+had seen a few days since when she had turned in her saddle to watch
+the retreating forms of the cut-throats of Torn as they rode on after
+halting her father's party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through the
+ravine below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his
+headquarters; while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods before
+the grim pile.
+
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the little
+door through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before. Following
+the corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stone
+stairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the false panel that
+had given the two fugitives egress.
+
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartment
+followed closely by his henchmen. On they went, through apartment after
+apartment, but no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their
+search, and it was soon apparent that the castle was deserted.
+
+As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man basking
+in the sun, upon a bench. The sight of them nearly caused the old fellow
+to die of fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the untenanted
+halls was well reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek.
+
+When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had ridden
+out early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was. The
+outlaw knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was his
+anger against this man, that he ordered his band to mount, and spurring
+to their head, he marched through Middlesex, and crossing the Thames
+above London, entered Surrey late the same afternoon.
+
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between London
+and Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham,
+having sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of a
+royalist baron, whose husband was with Prince Edward's forces.
+
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady's
+household who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she had
+done him. When, therefore, he found that these grim men were searching
+for De Fulm, he saw a way to be revenged upon his mistress.
+
+"How many swords be there at the castle?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham," replied the knave;
+"and, furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you, My
+Lord, so that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and the
+Earl be supping."
+
+"Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn. "We
+shall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl of
+Buckingham."
+
+Half an hour's ride brought them within sight of the castle.
+Dismounting, and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman of
+Torn advanced on foot with Shandy and the eight others, close in the
+wake of the traitorous servant.
+
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush,
+he had hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat and
+rested its farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the
+ground.
+
+"Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy," said the outlaw, "till all
+be in, an' if there be any signs of treachery, stick him through the
+gizzard--death thus be slower and more painful."
+
+So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge, and
+disappeared within the window beyond. One by one the band of cut-throats
+passed through the little window, until all stood within the castle
+beside their chief; Shandy coming last with the servant.
+
+"Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups," said Norman
+of Torn. "You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my being
+interrupted."
+
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthily
+across the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left the
+little room, this figure pushed quietly through the window and followed
+the great outlaw down the unlighted corridor.
+
+A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon the
+grim figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the great
+dining hall.
+
+"My Lord Earl!" she cried. "Look! Behind you."
+
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him, he overturned the
+bench upon which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earl
+of Buckingham had a guilty conscience.
+
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword.
+
+"A moment, My Lord," said a low voice in perfect French.
+
+"Who are you?" cried the lady.
+
+"I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little
+story.
+
+"In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of England
+held by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when she
+spurned his advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her fair
+face, and with his brute hands choked her. And in that castle also was
+a despised and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neck
+the hempen noose has been yawning these many years. And it was this vile
+person who came in time to save the young woman from the noble flower of
+knighthood that would have ruined her young life.
+
+"The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to the
+noble's rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest
+he be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the hands
+of her tormentor.
+
+"But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl,
+he must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in full
+the toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and violence done
+her.
+
+"My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord the
+Earl of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the duty
+he has sworn to do. En garde, My Lord!"
+
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he had
+been looking through a haze of blood for hours--in fact every time he
+had thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de Tany
+and of the cruel blow that had fallen upon her face.
+
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a corner
+of the room, and when he had him there where he could escape in no
+direction, he drove his blade so deep through his putrid heart that the
+point buried itself an inch in the oak panel beyond.
+
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was witnessing,
+and, as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead body before him
+and wiped it on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascination
+while he drew his dagger and made a mark upon the forehead of the dead
+nobleman.
+
+"Outlaw or Devil," said a stern voice behind them, "Roger Leybourn owes
+you his friendship for saving the honor of his home."
+
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway where
+Norman of Torn had first appeared.
+
+"Roger!" shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+
+"Who be you?" continued the master of Leybourn addressing the outlaw.
+
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl of
+Buckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"I owe you much. You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast,
+and Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman of
+Torn."
+
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+
+"You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper. I
+have eaten but once in forty-eight hours."
+
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain on
+watch, but to interfere with no one within the castle.
+
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who had
+recovered from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor lay
+the body of De Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, and
+had hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half an
+hour before the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity to
+enter unobserved by the servants. It was he who had followed across the
+ladder after Shandy.
+
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for the
+first time within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at the
+house of a gentleman.
+
+The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to his
+camp started on his homeward march toward Torn.
+
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs of
+London, they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at a
+small party of gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were waxing
+brave to lay violent hands upon the party. Mud and rocks and rotten
+vegetables were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of them
+barely missing the women of the party.
+
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thick
+of it laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and his
+men, catching the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole
+pack of attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, he
+continued on his march toward the north.
+
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after the
+retreating figures of their deliverers. Then one of the ladies turned
+to a knight at her side with a word of command and an imperious gesture
+toward the fast disappearing company. He, thus addressed, put spurs to
+his horse, and rode at a rapid gallop after the outlaw's troop. In a few
+moments he had overtaken them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.
+
+"Hold, Sir Knight," cried the gentleman, "the Queen would thank you in
+person for your brave defence of her."
+
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his
+horse and rode back with the Queen's messenger.
+
+As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel.
+
+"You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen's life
+that you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but driven
+a pack of curs from annoying a stray cat," said the Queen.
+
+"I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of a
+queen."
+
+"What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed? The
+King, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me your
+name."
+
+"If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang me,"
+laughed the outlaw. "I be Norman of Torn."
+
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none of
+them had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry of
+England feared and hated.
+
+"For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the King
+has pardoned men before," replied Her Majesty. "But raise your visor,
+I would look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a
+gentleman and a loyal protector of his queen."
+
+"They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends," replied
+Norman of Torn quietly, "have never lived to tell what they saw beneath
+this visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year to
+fear it might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil of
+Torn lifted from his face." Without another word he wheeled and galloped
+back to his little army.
+
+"The puppy, the insolent puppy," cried Eleanor of England, in a rage.
+
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a period
+of twenty years.
+
+Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces of
+Torn from their Essex camp back to Derby. The numerous raiding parties
+which had been constantly upon the road during the days they had spent
+in this rich district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts with rich
+and valuable booty and the men, for the time satiated with fighting and
+loot, turned their faces toward Torn with evident satisfaction.
+
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the old
+man of Torn.
+
+"Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrow
+morning. I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand,
+and, as I shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join you
+tomorrow."
+
+"Do not forget, My Lord," said Edwild the Serf, a great yellow-haired
+Saxon giant, "that there be a party of the King's troops camped close by
+the road which branches to Tany."
+
+"I shall give them plenty of room," replied Norman of Torn. "My neck
+itcheth not to be stretched," and he laughed and mounted.
+
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo the
+Spaniard, sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest, mounted
+and spurred rapidly after him. The camp, in the throes of packing
+refractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling their own wild
+mounts, did not notice his departure. Only the little grim, gray, old
+man knew that he had gone, or why, or whither.
+
+That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richard
+de Tany and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming of
+the Lady Joan, a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of the
+King's soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany.
+
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred back
+in the direction from which he had come.
+
+And this was what he read:
+
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort.
+
+Instantly the call "to arms" and "mount" sounded through the camp and,
+in five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great
+reward and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw who
+was now almost within his clutches.
+
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King's
+soldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Norman
+of Torn from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest
+through Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited
+composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.
+
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of the
+period; a beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressed
+excitement which caused the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her
+cheek, and her breasts to rise and fall above her fast beating heart.
+
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and then
+they stood looking into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment.
+
+"I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell," he said sadly.
+"I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the temptation to be
+with you and those whom you typify must be my excuse. I--" He paused.
+It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn, but if she loved
+him, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort?
+
+"You need tell me nothing," interrupted Joan de Tany. "I have guessed
+what you would tell me, Norman of Torn. 'The spell of moonlight and
+adventure is no longer upon us'--those are your own words, and still I
+am glad to call you friend."
+
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality of
+her decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend to
+her.
+
+"It is best," he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt no
+love for him now that she knew him for what he really was. "Nothing good
+could come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim more
+of you than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind and
+for my own, we will let it be as though you had never known me. I thank
+you that you have not been angry with me. Remember me only to think that
+in the hills of Derby, a sword is at your service, without reward and
+without price. Should you ever need it, Joan, tell me that you will send
+for me--wilt promise me that, Joan?"
+
+"I promise, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Farewell," he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his knee
+to the ground in reverence. Then he rose to go, pressing a little packet
+into her palm. Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief instant,
+deep in the azure depths of the girl's that which tumbled the structure
+of his new-found complacency about his ears.
+
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which led
+northwest toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for he
+realized two things. One was that the girl he had left still loved him,
+and that some day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she had
+sent him away; and the other was that he did not love her, that his
+heart was locked in the fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and the
+aching sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl's
+life. That he had been new to women and newer still to love did not
+permit him to excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly
+and stupidity, and what he thought was fickleness.
+
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to know
+without question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade de
+Montfort's lips would always be more to him than all the allurements
+possessed by the balance of the women of the world, no matter how
+charming, or how beautiful.
+
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that the
+attitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was but
+the attitude which the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good woman
+of her class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Montfort when she
+learned that Roger de Conde was Norman of Torn.
+
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere the
+girl, who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing with
+strangely drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw a
+body of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south.
+
+The King's banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de Tany
+knew for whom they sought at her father's castle. Quickly she hastened
+to the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their hail
+rather than one of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King's
+men drew rein before the castle.
+
+In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission.
+
+"We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this castle,"
+replied the officer.
+
+"There be no outlaw here," replied the girl, "but, if you wish, you may
+enter with half a dozen men and search the castle."
+
+This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman of
+Torn was not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain
+that the Outlaw of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King's
+men; so she said:
+
+"There was one here just before you came who called himself though by
+another name than Norman of Torn. Possibly it is he ye seek."
+
+"Which way rode he?" cried the officer.
+
+"Straight toward the west by the middle road," lied Joan de Tany. And,
+as the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back,
+galloped furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon a
+bench, pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, and
+within found two others. In one of these was a beautiful jeweled locket,
+and on the outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the initials
+NT; in the other was a golden hair ornament set with precious stones,
+and about it was wound a strand of her own silken tresses.
+
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them against
+her lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her lithe
+young form racked with sobs.
+
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds of
+caste to a false ideal. Birth and station spelled honor to her, and
+honor, to the daughter of an English noble, was a mightier force even
+than love.
+
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that he
+was, according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassable
+barrier between them.
+
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her raged
+the mighty battle of the heart against the head.
+
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her arms
+about the girl's neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause of
+her sorrow. Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing
+heart; that wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not even a
+mother's love could check.
+
+"Joan, my dear daughter," cried Lady de Tany, "I sorrow with thee that
+thy love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore. But it be
+better that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take
+my word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance must
+needs have brought upon thee and thy father's house would soon have
+cooled thy love; nor could his have survived the sneers and affronts
+even the menials would have put upon him."
+
+"Oh, mother, but I love him so," moaned the girl. "I did not know how
+much until he had gone, and the King's officer had come to search for
+him, and then the thought that all the power of a great throne and the
+mightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against him
+raised the hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my love
+surged through all my being. Mother, thou canst not know the honor, and
+the bravery, and the chivalry of the man as I do. Not since Arthur of
+Silures kept his round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so true
+a knight as Norman of Torn.
+
+"Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed the
+honor of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignified
+respect in which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too,
+and felt that outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentleman than
+nine-tenths the nobles of England."
+
+"But his birth, my daughter!" argued the Lady de Tany. "Some even say
+that the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck, and
+others that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor had
+he any mother."
+
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught could the girl say to
+justify so heinous a crime as low birth. What a man did in those rough
+cruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother
+or his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter howsoever
+wickedly attained, he might never overcome or live down.
+
+Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her own
+apartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild,
+impossible hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long,
+bitter night; until toward morning she solved the problem of her misery
+in the only way that seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding,
+little heart. When the rising sun shone through the narrow window, it
+found Joan de Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden hilt
+of the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded from her breast, and a
+thin line of crimson ran across the snowy skin to a little pool upon the
+sheet beneath her.
+
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush
+another innocent victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could
+tell from outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad
+intelligence wrought on the master of Torn.
+
+All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders were
+issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south toward
+Essex without other halt than for necessary food and water for man and
+beast.
+
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father's castle to
+the church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final
+resting place in the castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silent
+knights, black draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind
+the bier.
+
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as
+silently, they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the
+following night.
+
+No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of
+sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn
+had come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and all
+but the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.
+
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young
+leader turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door
+of Father Claude's cottage.
+
+"I am tired, Father," said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his
+accustomed bench. "Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps. I
+and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth."
+
+"Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late. Seek out
+a new and better life in another country and carve thy future into the
+semblance of glory and honor."
+
+"Would that I might, my friend," answered Norman of Torn. "But hast
+thou thought on the consequences which surely would follow should I thus
+remove both heart and head from the thing that I have built?
+
+"What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his great
+band of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England? Hast thought on't,
+Father?
+
+"Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild the
+Serf were ranging unchecked through Derby? Edwild, whose father was torn
+limb from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to killing a
+buck in the new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of another
+man; Edwild, whose mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church.
+
+"And Horsan the Dane, Father. How thinkest thou the safety of the roads
+would be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon
+ye?
+
+"And Pensilo, the Spanish Don! A great captain, but a man absolutely
+without bowels of compassion. When first he joined us and saw our mark
+upon the foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked
+the living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron, branding
+a great P upon each cheek and burning out the right eye completely.
+Wouldst like to feel, Father, that Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged
+free through forest and hill of England?
+
+"And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One Eye
+Kanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the
+thousand others, each with a special hatred for some particular class or
+individual, and all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and loot.
+
+"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to
+hate, I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn
+loose upon her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order
+or decency other than that which I enforce."
+
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many
+minutes.
+
+"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son," he said at last.
+"Thou canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of
+England, but even that may be possible; who knows other than God?"
+
+"For my part," laughed the outlaw, "I be willing to leave it in His
+hands; which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirk
+a responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the
+Lord."
+
+"I fear, my son," said the priest, "that what seed of reverence I have
+attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit."
+
+"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord into
+partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and
+poor spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may be
+wrong, for I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of
+God and scapegoat be not that they are synonymous."
+
+"Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends,"
+replied the priest, "and further, there be that nearer my heart just now
+which I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to.
+The question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom thou
+call father?"
+
+"I know of no treachery," replied the outlaw, "which he hath ever
+conceived against me. Why?"
+
+"I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meet
+me and two others here upon an important matter. I have learned that he
+expects to be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week.
+He is to notify me when he will come and I shall then send for thee
+and the old man of Torn; but it were as well, my son, that thou do
+not mention this matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou come
+hither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be present."
+
+"As you say, Father," replied Norman of Torn. "I do not make head nor
+tail of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so is
+sufficient. I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell."
+
+Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himself
+with occasional pillages against the royalists of the surrounding
+counties, and his patrols so covered the public highways that it became
+a matter of grievous import to the King's party, for no one was safe in
+the district who even so much as sympathized with the King's cause, and
+many were the dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil of
+Torn.
+
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it now
+seemed a matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grisly
+banner would be found on their side.
+
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent in
+rough, wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sit
+at table singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in
+through the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo,
+tired of the din and racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawn
+sword and laid upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce the
+authority of his commands to disperse.
+
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, but
+when minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair,
+the Outlaw of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter's dull
+monotony to as late an hour as another; nor could any man of his great
+fierce horde outdrink their chief when he cared to indulge in the
+pleasures of the wine cup. The only effect that liquor seemed to have
+upon him was to increase his desire to fight, so that he was wont to
+pick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for the slightest,
+or for no provocation at all. So, for this reason, he drank but seldom
+since he always regretted the things he did under the promptings of that
+other self which only could assert its ego when reason was threatened
+with submersion.
+
+Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from the
+wild, roving lives of its own members. Tales of adventure, love, war
+and death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told,
+each, his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fighting
+enough by day to keep them good humored, the winter passed, and spring
+came with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with soft
+zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.
+
+Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear from
+Simon de Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message which
+told the good priest that his letter had missed the great baron and
+had followed him around until he had but just received it. The message
+closed with these words:
+
+"Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledge
+of the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give our
+best attention. Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we shall
+visit thee, good father, on the fifth day from today."
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort's man leave the note with
+Father Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl on
+his table, so that when the good father left his cottage, it was the
+matter of but a moment's work for Spizo to transfer the message from its
+hiding place to the breast of his tunic. The fellow could not read, but
+he to whom he took the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin in
+which it was penned.
+
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the full
+purport of this letter flashed upon him. It had been years since he had
+heard aught of the search for the little lost prince of England, and now
+that the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now that more and
+more often opportunities were opening up to him to wreak the last shred
+of his terrible vengeance, the very thought of being thwarted at the
+final moment staggered his comprehension.
+
+"On the fifth day," he repeated. "That is the day on which we were to
+ride south again. Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not
+talk with thee, thou fool priest."
+
+That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein before
+the walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:
+
+"A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace of
+God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of
+Torn, Open, in the name of the King!"
+
+Norman of Torn directed that the King's messenger be admitted, and the
+knight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle.
+
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered.
+
+The bearing of the King's officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a
+man of birth when dealing with a low born knave.
+
+"His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah," he said, withdrawing
+a parchment from his breast. "And, as you doubtless cannot read, I will
+read the King's commands to you."
+
+"I can read," replied Norman of Torn, "whatever the King can write.
+Unless it be," he added, "that the King writes no better than he rules."
+
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+
+"It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of our
+gracious King. If he were less generous, he would have sent you a halter
+rather than this message which I bear."
+
+"A bridle for thy tongue, my friend," replied Norman of Torn, "were in
+better taste than a halter for my neck. But come, let us see what the
+King writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn."
+
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:
+
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of
+Aquitaine; to Norman of Torn:
+
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing and
+plundering the persons and property of our faithful lieges!!!!!
+
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God,
+do command that you cease these nefarious practices!!!!!
+
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, Queen
+Eleanor, we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes!!!!!
+
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the fighting
+men, your followers, prepared to protect the security of our person, and
+wage war upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert de
+Clare and their accomplices, who even now are collected to threaten and
+menace our person and kingdom!!!!!
+
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your long
+unpunished crimes. Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in the
+forty-eighth year of our reign.
+
+HENRY, REX.
+
+"The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded," said Norman of Torn,
+"for because of it shall the King's messenger eat the King's message,
+and thus take back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn." And
+crumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the royal
+emissary.
+
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was even
+quicker, so that it seemed that the King's messenger had deliberately
+hurled his weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him.
+
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful hand
+and, despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, bent
+him back upon the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the
+point of his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King's message down the
+knight's throat; wax, parchment and all.
+
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn a
+half hour later and spurred rapidly--in his head a more civil tongue.
+
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea and
+reported the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearing
+by all the saints in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for
+his effrontery before the snow flew again.
+
+News of the fighting between the barons and the King's forces at
+Rochester, Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a few
+days after the coming of the King's message, but at the same time came
+other news which hastened his departure toward the south. This latter
+word was that Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied by Prince
+Philip, had landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come Peter
+of Colfax back to England--the latter, doubtless reassured by the strong
+conviction, which held in the minds of all royalists at that time, of
+the certainty of victory for the royal arms in the impending conflict
+with the rebel barons.
+
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfort
+once again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity.
+He knew what the result must be. His experience with Joan de Tany had
+taught him that. But the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated all
+his acts where the happiness or honor of women were concerned urged him
+to give himself over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman's pride,
+that it might be she who spurned and rejected; for, as it must appear
+now, it had been he whose love had grown cold. It was a bitter thing
+to contemplate, for not alone would the mighty pride of the man be
+lacerated, but a great love.
+
+Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reported
+to the old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman of
+Torn to come with his father to the priest's cottage the morning of the
+march to meet Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what the
+nature of the thing was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more than
+aught he had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that the
+priest had not as yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlaw
+of Torn.
+
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south,
+a little, wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of Father
+Claude. No man knows what words passed between the good priest and his
+visitor nor the details of what befell within the four walls of the
+little cottage that night; but some half hour only elapsed before the
+little, grim, gray man emerged from the darkened interior and hastened
+upward upon the rocky trail into the hills, a cold smile of satisfaction
+on his lips.
+
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparation
+early the following morning, for by eight o'clock the column was to
+march. The courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys. War
+horses were being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed to
+great posts, were being laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings of
+the men; while those already packed were wandering loose among the other
+animals and men. There was squealing, biting, kicking, and cursing as
+animals fouled one another with their loads, or brushed against some
+tethered war horse.
+
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to don
+armor, lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, and
+rondel; buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg. The open forges of
+armorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvil
+rose above the thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the shouting
+of commands, the rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stone
+flags, as these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing, through the
+eleventh hour repairs to armor, lance and sword, or to reset a shoe upon
+a refractory, plunging beast.
+
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some
+semblance of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam. First the sumpter
+beasts, all loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs
+below the castle and there held to await the column. Then, one by one,
+the companies were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon and
+waving banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
+
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction which
+hurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls of
+beleaguered castles.
+
+And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and the
+little old man walked side by side from the castle building and mounted
+their chargers held by two squires in the center of the courtyard.
+
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as
+the two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of
+Torn, saying,
+
+"I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son. Father Claude
+sent word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and
+that some appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred
+until later. He said that you would understand." The old man eyed his
+companion narrowly through the eye slit in his helm.
+
+"'Tis passing strange," said Norman of Torn but that was his only
+comment. And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward
+the valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of
+Torn saw that the door was closed and that there was no sign of life
+about the place. A wave of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted
+aspect of the little flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a
+near future without the beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
+
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge of
+the valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the south
+by another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drew
+rein before the cottage of Father Claude.
+
+As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter the
+building.
+
+"Have a care, My Lord," cried his companion. "This be over-close to the
+Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in the
+message which called thee thither."
+
+"Fear not," replied Simon de Montfort, "the Devil of Torn hath no
+quarrel with me." Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the
+door. Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim
+light of the interior. There he found his host, the good father Claude,
+stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes
+dark with dried and clotted blood.
+
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his
+companions.
+
+"The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden
+for a man to carry," he said. "But this convinces me more than any words
+the priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, and
+possibly Prince Richard also."
+
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked
+thoroughly by the assassin. The contents of drawer and box littered
+every room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced by
+many pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched.
+
+"The true object lies here," said De Montfort, pointing to the open
+hearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents.
+"All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here
+beneath the table?" and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up
+a sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced. It was
+addressed to him, and he read it aloud:
+
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our
+meeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either
+its contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+
+He who bareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince
+Richard. Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as
+positive as I.
+
+Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know the
+wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call!!!!!
+
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the
+assassin.
+
+"Mon Dieu! The damnable luck!" cried De Montfort, "but a second more
+and the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.
+Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend
+incarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of
+Lady Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames? The Devil himself must
+watch o'er him.
+
+"There be naught more we can do here," he continued. "I should have been
+on my way to Fletching hours since. Come, my gentlemen, we will ride
+south by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to the
+decent burial of this holy man."
+
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away. Noon found them at Leicester,
+and three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+
+At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed
+the last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claude
+and consigned his clay to the churchyard.
+
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance
+which had been born in the King's armory twenty years before passed from
+the eyes of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly south
+on the road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing
+for its advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son Prince
+Edward, and his brother, Prince Richard, King of the Romans, together
+with the latter's son, were entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand
+strong.
+
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons' army set
+out from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marching
+through dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city,
+unobserved.
+
+From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valley
+Combe, the projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march from
+the town. The King's party, however, had no suspicion that an attack was
+imminent and, in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial troops,
+had spent the preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they were
+quite taken by surprise.
+
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of the
+hill in advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army that
+the soldiers, growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward
+morning, and returned to town, leaving but a single man on watch. He,
+left alone, had promptly fallen asleep, and thus De Montfort's men found
+and captured him within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes,
+where the King and his royal allies lay peacefully asleep, after their
+night of wine and dancing and song.
+
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial army
+would doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but it
+happened that, the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party to
+ride forth at daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were low.
+
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into the
+hands of the baronial troops. Though some few were killed or captured,
+those who escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of the
+royalists to the close proximity and gravity of their danger.
+
+By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort's army were in full view
+of the town. On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave;
+in the center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William de
+Monchensy, at the head of a large division which occupied that branch of
+the hill which descended a gentle, unbroken slope to the town. The right
+wing was commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son of Simon de
+Montfort, and with him was the third son, Guy, as well as John de
+Burgh and Humphrey de Bohun. The reserves were under Simon de Montfort
+himself.
+
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and his
+party, which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort;
+so that brother faced brother, and father fought against son, on that
+bloody Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes.
+
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and, as
+he issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners and
+pennons streaming in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade
+scintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and impressive
+spectacle as he hurled himself upon the Londoners, whom he had selected
+for attack because of the affront they had put upon his mother that day
+at London on the preceding July.
+
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotected
+burghers, unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before the
+iron men on their iron shod horses. The long lances, the heavy maces,
+the six-bladed battle axes, and the well-tempered swords of the knights
+played havoc among them, so that the rout was complete; but, not content
+with victory, Prince Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he pursued
+the citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of them, while many
+more were drowned in attempting to escape across the Ouse.
+
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and his
+gallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined resistance
+at the hands of Henry de Montfort.
+
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, and
+thus the battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantage
+appearing to lie with the King's troops. Had Edward not gone so far
+afield in pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might easily have been
+on the side of the royalists early in the day, but by thus eliminating
+his division after defeating a part of De Montfort's army, it was as
+though neither of these two forces had been engaged.
+
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centered
+the fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills. He had
+caused his car to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many of
+his leaders, under a small guard, so that the banners there displayed,
+together with the car, led the King of the Romans to believe that the
+Earl himself lay there, for Simon de Montfort had but a month or so
+before suffered an injury to his hip when his horse fell with him, and
+the royalists were not aware that he had recovered sufficiently to again
+mount a horse.
+
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed back
+the men of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car came
+the royalists until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults
+against the old Earl and commanding him to come forth. And when they had
+killed the occupants of the car, they found that Simon de Montfort
+was not among them, but instead he had fastened there three important
+citizens of London, old men and influential, who had opposed him, and
+aided and abetted the King.
+
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, that
+he fell upon the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly but
+steadily beat them back from the town.
+
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy's left wing by Prince
+Edward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two remaining
+divisions took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that, what a
+moment before had hung in the balance, now seemed an assured victory for
+King Henry.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the melee
+with all their reserves. No longer was there semblance of organization.
+Division was inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe formed
+a jumbled confusion of fighting, cursing chaos, over which whipped the
+angry pennons and banners of England's noblest houses.
+
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that the
+King's arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been had
+not a new element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow of
+the hill to the north of them appeared a great horde of armored knights,
+and as they came into position where they could view the battle, the
+leader raised his sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand broke
+into a mad charge.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon this
+body of fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements. Whom might
+they be? To which side owned they allegiance? And, then, as the
+black falcon wing on the banners of the advancing horsemen became
+distinguishable, they saw that it was the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, the
+wild battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned the
+hopes of the royalists cold within their breasts.
+
+"For De Montfort! For De Montfort!" and "Down with Henry!" rang loud and
+clear above the din of battle.
+
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance that
+the King himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety of
+Lewes.
+
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it was
+that Norman of Torn found him barricaded. When the door was broken down,
+the outlaw entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own hand to
+the feet of De Montfort, and would have put him to death had not the
+Earl intervened.
+
+"I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King," said Norman of
+Torn, "and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl,
+his life shall be yours to do with as you see fit."
+
+"You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn," replied De Montfort.
+"Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not mar the
+record of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity."
+
+"It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead,"
+retorted the outlaw.
+
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple
+truth.
+
+"How comes it, Norman of Torn," asked De Montfort as they rode together
+toward Lewes, "that you threw the weight of your sword upon the side of
+the barons? Be it because you hate the King more?"
+
+"I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl," replied the outlaw. "I
+have been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should hate
+was never told me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to my
+maturer years.
+
+"As for why I fought as I did today," he continued, "it be because the
+heart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side. Had it been
+with the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than
+he has this day. So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude.
+Tomorrow I may be pillaging your friends as of yore."
+
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of his
+lowered visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath.
+
+"You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn," said the Earl
+coldly, "and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot you.
+An English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France, does
+not have much thought to waste upon highwaymen." His tone, as well as
+his words were studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung the
+pride of this haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted the
+friendship of his daughter.
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seen
+his face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred and
+resentment, the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines of
+pain and sorrow; for he read in the attitude of the father what he might
+expect to receive at the hands of the daughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fled
+precipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory,
+the city was turned over to looting and rapine. In this, Norman of Torn
+and his men did not participate, but camped a little apart from the town
+until daybreak the following morning, when they started east, toward
+Dover.
+
+They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty miles
+out of their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold. The troops
+stationed there had fled, having been appraised some few hours earlier,
+by fugitives, of the defeat of Henry's army at Lewes.
+
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, finding
+it entirely deserted, continued his eastward march. Some few miles
+farther on, he overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and from
+them he easily, by dint of threats, elicited the information he desired:
+the direction taken by the refugees from the deserted castle, their
+number, and as close a description of the party as the soldiers could
+give.
+
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, this
+time heading northward into Kent. It was dark before he reached his
+destination, and saw before him the familiar outlines of the castle
+of Roger de Leybourn. This time, the outlaw threw his fierce horde
+completely around the embattled pile before he advanced with a score of
+sturdy ruffians to reconnoiter.
+
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hope
+for stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the great
+building and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladder
+that Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudia
+unearth, that the outlaw might visit the Earl of Buckingham,
+unannounced.
+
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raise
+it to the sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood beside
+their chief within the walls of Leybourn.
+
+Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castle
+until a maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a sudden
+corner and bumped full into the Outlaw of Torn. With a shriek that might
+have been heard at Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone floor and,
+turning, ran, still shrieking at the top of her lungs, straight for the
+great dining hall.
+
+So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had the
+guests arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of the
+girl than Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty drawn
+swords at his back.
+
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants and
+men-at-arms. Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of the
+party saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a blow
+could be struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right hand,
+raised his left aloft in a gesture for silence.
+
+"Hold!" he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn, "I have
+no quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest within thy
+halls. Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as didst
+thy fair lady."
+
+"Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, and
+makes bold to insult my guests?" demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+
+"Who be I! If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yon
+grinning baboon," replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at one
+who had been seated close to De Leybourn.
+
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlaw
+indicated, and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man. With
+livid face he stood, leaning for support against the table; his craven
+knees wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apart
+against his yellow teeth in a horrid grimace of awful fear.
+
+"If you recognize me not, Sir Roger," said Norman of Torn, drily, "it is
+evident that your honored guest hath a better memory."
+
+At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes never
+left the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed the
+master of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated falsetto:
+
+"Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him! Do you wish to live another
+moment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, and
+there be a great price upon his head.
+
+"Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me," he ended in a
+pitiful wail.
+
+The Devil of Torn! How that name froze the hearts of the assembled
+guests.
+
+The Devil of Torn! Slowly the men standing there at the board of Sir
+Roger de Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name.
+
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of a
+sepulchre, and then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table.
+She had seen the mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her
+mate.
+
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+
+"Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls of
+Leybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great service
+for the house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest.
+But a moment since, you said that you had no quarrel with me. Then why
+be you here? Speak! Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the master
+of Leybourn greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand or
+naked sword?"
+
+"I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me.
+And when I go, I take part of him with me. I be in a great hurry, so I
+would prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, without
+interference; but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong within
+your walls, and nigh a thousand lie without. What say you, My Lord?"
+
+"Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that you
+search him out thus within a day's ride from the army of the King who
+has placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who be
+equally your enemies."
+
+"I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax," replied the outlaw.
+"What my grievance be matters not. Norman of Torn acts first and
+explains afterward, if he cares to explain at all. Come forth, Peter of
+Colfax, and for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may save
+your friends here from the fate that has found you at last after two
+years of patient waiting."
+
+Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to the
+center of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made;
+the men of the party forming a circle, in the center of which stood
+Peter of Colfax and Norman of Torn.
+
+"Give him a great draught of brandy," said the outlaw, "or he will sink
+down and choke in the froth of his own terror."
+
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter of
+Colfax regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his sword
+arm and defend himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and the
+primal instinct of self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a more
+and more creditable fight, until those who watched thought that he might
+indeed have a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn. But they did not
+know that Norman of Torn was but playing with his victim, that he might
+make the torture long, drawn out, and wreak as terrible a punishment
+upon Peter of Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron had visited
+upon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield to his base
+desires.
+
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of the
+fascinating drama that was being enacted before them.
+
+"God, what a swordsman!" muttered one.
+
+"Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword was
+drawn from the first scabbard!" replied Roger de Leybourn. "Is it not
+marvellous!"
+
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces;
+little by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for loss
+of blood, the man was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch
+his victim's face with his gleaming sword. That he was saving for the
+fulfillment of his design.
+
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was no
+marrowless antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn. Furiously he
+fought; in the extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with
+frenzied agony. Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow.
+
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like,
+in his victim's face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a
+thin vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to ooze
+ere another swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow to
+parallel the first.
+
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax,
+until the watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the seal
+of death, in letters of blood--NT.
+
+It was the end. Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like the
+maniac he had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw of
+Torn was upon his brow. Now, shrieking and gibbering through his frothy
+lips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed full
+upon Norman of Torn. There was a flash of the great sword as the outlaw
+swung it to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that passed
+above the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the grinning head rolled
+upon the floor, while the loathsome carcass, that had been a baron of
+England, sunk in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the great hall of
+the castle of Leybourn.
+
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests. Some one broke
+into hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn,
+wiping his blade upon the rushes of the floor as he had done upon
+another occasion in that same hall, spoke quietly to the master of
+Leybourn.
+
+"I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or a
+mightier one in its stead."
+
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few words
+of instructions, to one of his men.
+
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it upon
+the golden platter.
+
+"I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality," said Norman of Torn,
+with a low bow which included the spellbound guests. "Adieu." Thus
+followed by his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the
+platter of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and from
+the castle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain of
+many days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into camp
+that night; nor did he again take up his march until the second morning,
+three days after the battle of Lewes.
+
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester's castle, where he
+had reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though it
+galled his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting his
+coming, he could not do less than that which he felt his honor demanded.
+
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the wiry,
+gray little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father.
+
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, had
+the old fellow changed in all these years. Without bodily vices, and
+clinging ever to the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was still
+young in muscle and endurance.
+
+For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but he
+constantly practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so that
+it had become a subject often discussed among the men as to which of the
+two, father or son, was the greater swordsman.
+
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence. Long since
+had Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character and
+masterful ways, the position of authority in the castle of Torn. The old
+man simply rode and fought with the others when it pleased him; and he
+had come on this trip because he felt that there was that impending for
+which he had waited over twenty years.
+
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called "my
+son." If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one of
+pride which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil's
+mighty sword arm.
+
+The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guard
+halted a party bound south upon a crossroad. There were some twenty or
+thirty men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights.
+
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of the
+party was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently a
+person of distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+
+"Who are you," said the gentleman, in French, "that stops a prince of
+France upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal? Are you
+of the King's forces, or De Montfort's?"
+
+"Be this Prince Philip of France?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"Yes, but who be you?"
+
+"And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?" continued the
+outlaw, ignoring the Prince's question.
+
+"Yes, an it be any of your affair," replied Philip curtly.
+
+"It be," said the Devil of Torn, "for I be a friend of My Lady Bertrade,
+and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands of roving
+soldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with so
+small an escort. Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de Montfort
+ride with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur may arrive
+there safely."
+
+"It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget. But,
+again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France?"
+
+"Norman of Torn, they call me," replied the outlaw.
+
+"Indeed!" cried Philip. "The great and bloody outlaw?" Upon his handsome
+face there was no look of fear or repugnance.
+
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+
+"Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for
+himself," he said, "if he rides in such company?"
+
+"My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than saint,"
+said the Prince. "They have told me of how you saved the daughter of De
+Montfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you,
+and to thank you. It had been my intention to ride to Torn for that
+purpose so soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all our
+plans by his victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simon
+de Montfort and the King are to be today. The Queen also is there
+with her retinue, so it be expected that, to show the good feeling and
+renewed friendship existing between De Montfort and his King, there will
+be gay scenes in the old fortress. But," he added, after a pause, "dare
+the Outlaw of Torn ride within reach of the King who has placed a price
+upon his head?"
+
+"The price has been there since I was eighteen," answered Norman of
+Torn, "and yet my head be where it has always been. Can you blame me
+if I look with levity upon the King's price? It be not heavy enough to
+weigh me down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in all
+England. I am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisoner
+today."
+
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torn
+grew to like this brave and handsome gentleman. In his heart was no
+rancor because of the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Norman
+of Torn was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy.
+It not only held her happiness above his own, but the happiness and
+welfare of the man she loved, as well.
+
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid the
+prince adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, he
+said:
+
+"May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade? It is in
+reference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, for
+the first time, be able to fulfill."
+
+"Certainly, my friend," replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting, called
+upon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch,
+wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missive
+to the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment. Opening
+it, she read:
+
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn.
+
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in
+friendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor.
+
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battel
+this night.
+
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I know
+that you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendship
+which he bears you.
+
+My camp lies without the city's gates, and your messenger will have safe
+conduct whatever reply he bears to,
+
+Norman of Torn.
+
+Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she thought of that moment
+of terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle of
+Peter of Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devil
+of Torn. And then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful chivalry,
+nay, almost tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester.
+
+What a strange contradiction of a man! She wondered if he would come
+with lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that lay
+behind the cold, steel mask. She would ask him this night to let her see
+his face, or would that be cruel? For, did they not say that it was
+from the very ugliness of it that he kept his helm closed to hide the
+repulsive sight from the eyes of men!
+
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two years
+before, she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn.
+
+In the great hall that night as the King's party sat at supper, Philip
+of France, addressing Henry, said:
+
+"And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today,
+that I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway?"
+
+"Some of our good friends from Kent?" asked the King.
+
+"Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price,
+Norman of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteous
+and pleasant gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmed
+through your realm that I may add to my list of pleasant acquaintances."
+
+"The Devil of Torn?" asked Henry, incredulously. "Some one be hoaxing
+you."
+
+"Nay, Your Majesty, I think not," replied Philip, "for he was indeed a
+grim and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and awe-inspiring
+a pack as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong they
+rode. They be camped not far without the city now."
+
+"My Lord," said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, "be it not time
+that England were rid of this devil's spawn and his hellish brood?
+Though I presume," he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, "that it
+may prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn upon his
+companion in arms."
+
+"I owe him nothing," returned the Earl haughtily, "by his own word."
+
+"You owe him victory at Lewes," snapped the King. "It were indeed a
+sad commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing lieges
+who turned their arms against our royal person, 'to save him from the
+treachery of his false advisers,' that they called upon a cutthroat
+outlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in their 'righteous
+cause'."
+
+"My Lord King," cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, "I called not
+upon this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles of
+Lewes until I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day.
+Neither did I know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fall
+upon baron or royalist."
+
+"If that be the truth, Leicester," said the King, with a note of
+skepticism which he made studiously apparent, "hang the dog. He be just
+without the city even now."
+
+"You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be
+hanged, hanged he shall be," replied De Montfort.
+
+"A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains
+to catch him, Leicester," said the King.
+
+"A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work," replied De Montfort.
+
+"And not," thought Philip of France, "if I know it, shall the brave
+Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow."
+
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and
+forth waiting an answer to his message.
+
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the
+outlaw knew full well that he had put his head within the lion's jaw
+when he had ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had no
+faith in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the
+King would urge when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers
+naked back to London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King's
+message, and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was within
+reach of the army of De Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not
+relish pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand
+within a walled fortress.
+
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his
+rough band would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great to
+enter the castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if he
+died there, it would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had
+set himself to do this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would were
+all the armies of the world camped within Battel.
+
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who
+presently appeared escorting a lackey.
+
+"A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort," said the soldier.
+
+"Bring him hither," commanded the outlaw.
+
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment
+sealed with scented wax wafers.
+
+"Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?" asked the outlaw.
+
+"I am to wait, My Lord," replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the
+service had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to
+bear a message to the Devil.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals,
+read the message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple.
+
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where I
+be.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the
+ground beside an object covered with a cloth.
+
+"Come, Flory," he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, "lead
+on."
+
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Torn
+and last the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the object
+covered with a cloth. But it was not Flory who brought up the rear.
+Flory lay dead in the shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thin
+wound below his left shoulder blade marked the spot where a keen dagger
+had found its way to his heart, and in his place walked the little grim,
+gray, old man, bearing the object covered with a cloth. But none might
+know the difference, for the little man wore the armor of Flory, and his
+visor was drawn.
+
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall where
+the shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doubly
+black. Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up winding
+stairways until presently he stopped before a low door.
+
+"Here," he said, "My Lord," and turning left them.
+
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his right
+hand, and a low voice from within whispered, "Enter."
+
+Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off a
+large hall. At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burning
+brightly, while a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the
+austere chamber. In the center of the room was a table, and at the sides
+several benches.
+
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone.
+
+"Place your burden upon this table, Flory," said Norman of Torn. And
+when it had been done: "You may go. Return to camp."
+
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed behind
+the little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory and
+then Norman of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left hand
+ungauntleted, resting upon the table's edge.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade," he said at last, "I have come to fulfill a promise."
+
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice. Before,
+Norman of Torn had always spoken in English. Where had she heard that
+voice! There were tones in it that haunted her.
+
+"What promise did Norman of Torn e'er make to Bertrade de Montfort?" she
+asked. "I do not understand you, my friend."
+
+"Look," he said. And as she approached the table he withdrew the cloth
+which covered the object that the man had placed there.
+
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon a
+golden platter was a man's head; horrid with the grin of death baring
+yellow fangs.
+
+"Dost recognize the thing?" asked the outlaw. And then she did; but
+still she could not comprehend. At last, slowly, there came back to her
+the idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her
+enemy to the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that! It was all a sore
+puzzle to her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim, visored
+figure of the Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside the
+grisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the great
+ring she had tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two years before.
+
+What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it was
+impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there upon
+the platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters of
+dried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death--NT!
+
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw's hand, and then
+up to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon her
+breast, the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed
+slightly as might one who has just arisen from a great illness.
+
+"Your visor," she whispered, "raise your visor." And then, as though to
+herself: "It cannot be; it cannot be."
+
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and
+there before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.
+
+"Mon Dieu!" she cried, "Tell me it is but a cruel joke."
+
+"It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade," said Norman of Torn sadly.
+And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised
+arms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said
+sadly:
+
+"And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heart
+went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation
+could come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was
+returned; and so I waited until you might forget the words you had
+spoken to Roger de Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that you
+should know him in his true colors.
+
+"It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. God
+knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very
+attitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your
+heart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against
+me because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to the
+Devil of Torn.
+
+"I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I know
+you never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always be
+with loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+
+"I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, and
+with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.
+
+"Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. The
+hand that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it
+as guide.
+
+"The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came from
+a heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continue
+to beat for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in
+a wasted and useless life.
+
+"Farewell, Bertrade." Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to his
+lips.
+
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this proud
+daughter of the new conqueror of England. The anger of an outraged
+confidence, gratitude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor,
+hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kinsmen, respect and
+honor for the marvellous courage of the man, loathing and contempt for
+the base born, the memory of that exalted moment when those handsome
+lips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a champion who
+dared come alone among twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a promise
+made her; but stronger than all the rest, two stood out before her
+mind's eye like living things--the degradation of his low birth, and
+the memory of the great love she had cherished all these long and dreary
+months.
+
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl's breast. In those few
+brief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade de
+Montfort that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached her
+final resolution she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman who,
+with the weight of a mature deliberation, had chosen the path which she
+would travel to the end--to the final goal, however sweet or however
+bitter.
+
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet, and,
+taking the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised him
+to his feet. In silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger,
+and then she lifted her eyes to his.
+
+"Keep the ring, Norman of Torn," she said. "The friendship of Bertrade
+de Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away," she hesitated,
+"nor is her love."
+
+"What do you mean?" he whispered. For in her eyes was that wondrous
+light he had seen there on that other day in the far castle of
+Leicester.
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that, Roger de Conde or Norman of Torn,
+gentleman or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de Montfort--it
+be thee I love; thee!"
+
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised,
+for he had expected the worst; but that she should love him! Oh God, had
+his overwrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dreaming this thing,
+only to awaken to the cold and awful truth!
+
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath that
+fanned his cheek; these were no dream!
+
+"Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade?" he cried. "Dost forget that
+I be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning even
+the identity of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world with such
+a man for husband?"
+
+"I know what I say, perfectly," she answered. "Were thou born out of
+wedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I love
+thee, and honor thee, and cleave to thee. Where thou be, Norman of Torn,
+there shall be happiness for me. Thy friends shall be my friends; thy
+joys shall be my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies, even
+mine own father, shall be my enemies.
+
+"Why it is, my Norman, I know not. Only do I know that I didst often
+question my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
+thee--oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that
+this heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of
+Torn?"
+
+"I do not know," he said simply and gravely. "So wonderful a thing be
+beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it
+is sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I were
+like to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness."
+
+"Sh!" she whispered, suddenly, "methinks I hear footsteps. They must not
+find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night wrung
+a promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee. What
+shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?"
+
+"We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee
+to gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest north
+tonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall
+make us one."
+
+"I am glad thee wish it," she replied. "I feared that, for some reason,
+thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait here, I
+will be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this door,"
+and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little room,
+"thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoining
+apartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes."
+
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself
+away from danger.
+
+"For my sake," she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and she ran
+swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth
+upon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did
+not return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+
+Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a
+trifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between
+Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.
+
+As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love for
+the Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.
+
+"It will be better than I had hoped," he muttered, "and easier. 'S blood!
+How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole proud heart
+in the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime revenge! I have
+waited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow thou struck
+that day, but the return shall be an hundred-fold increased by long
+accumulated interest."
+
+Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and corridors,
+until he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and the King, with
+Philip of France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+
+Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the room
+and, addressing the King, cried:
+
+"Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where a
+few men may seize him."
+
+"What now! What now!" ejaculated Henry. "What madman be this?"
+
+"I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or to
+more certain ends," replied the man.
+
+"It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself," cried De
+Montfort.
+
+"Where be the knave?" asked Henry.
+
+"He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughter
+of My Lord Earl of Leicester. Even now she did but tell him that she
+loved him."
+
+"Hold," cried De Montfort. "Hold fast thy foul tongue. What meanest thou
+by uttering such lies, and to my very face?"
+
+"They be no lies, Simon de Montfort. An I tell thee that Roger de Conde
+and Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak no
+lie."
+
+De Montfort paled.
+
+"Where be the craven wretch?" he demanded.
+
+"Come," said the little, old man. And turning, he led from the hall,
+closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the others.
+
+"Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men--thou'lt need them all to
+take Norman of Torn," he advised De Montfort. And so as they passed the
+guard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard the
+tramping of many feet. They seemed approaching up the dim corridor that
+led to the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+
+Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand upon
+the latch, waited. Yes, they were coming that way, many of them and
+quickly and, as he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras and
+pushed open the door behind him; backing into the other apartment just
+as Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, burst into the room from the
+opposite side.
+
+At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and,
+turning, he faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queen
+of England and another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their
+ladies.
+
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even had
+there been where to run. Slowly, he backed away from the door toward a
+corner where, with his back against a wall and a table at his right,
+he might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that he
+could hope for no quarter from the men who had him cornered there like a
+great bear in a trap.
+
+With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man,
+even though that man were the Devil of Torn.
+
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and were
+within the room where the outlaw stood at bay.
+
+At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddled
+together, while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemen
+and as many men-at-arms.
+
+"What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?" cried De Montfort, angrily.
+"Where be my daughter, Bertrade?"
+
+"I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs," replied Norman
+of Torn, "which be the affair of no other man. As to your daughter: I
+know nothing of her whereabouts. What should she have to do with the
+Devil of Torn, My Lord?"
+
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+
+"He lies," shouted he. "Her kisses be yet wet upon his lips."
+
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was now
+partly raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty years, he
+had called father.
+
+He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery and
+harm from him? No, he could not believe it. One of them must have gone
+mad. But why Flory's armor and where was the faithful Flory?
+
+"Father!" he ejaculated, "leadest thou the hated English King against
+thine own son?"
+
+"Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn," retorted the old man. "Thy
+days of usefulness to me be past. Tonight thou serve me best swinging
+from a wooden gibbet. Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a good
+strong gibbet in the courtyard below."
+
+"Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?" cried De Montfort.
+
+"Yes," was the reply, "when this floor be ankle deep in English blood
+and my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender."
+
+"Come, come," cried the King. "Let your men take the dog, De Montfort!"
+
+"Have at him, then," ordered the Earl, turning toward the waiting
+men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon the
+doomed outlaw.
+
+But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushed
+forward in a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared against
+one.
+
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn. It was grim battle and
+his only hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before he
+himself went down.
+
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and as
+quickly as he might. And to those who watched, it was as though the
+young officer of the Guard had not come within reach of that terrible
+blade ere he lay dead upon the floor, and then the point of death
+passed into the lungs of one of the men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere it
+pierced the heart of a third.
+
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of that
+mighty arm. Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack, a
+girlish figure, clothed in a long riding cloak, burst through the little
+knot of men as they stood facing their lone antagonist.
+
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfort
+threw herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonished
+company of king, prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her full
+height, and with all the pride of race and blood that was her right of
+heritage from a French king on her father's side and an English king on
+her mother's, she flashed her defiance and contempt in the single word:
+
+"Cowards!"
+
+"What means this, girl?" demanded De Montfort, "Art gone stark mad? Know
+thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?"
+
+"If I had not before known it, My Lord," she replied haughtily, "it
+would be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack a
+lone man. What other man in all England could stand thus against forty?
+A lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet."
+
+"Enough, girl," cried the King, "what be this knave to thee?"
+
+"He loves me, Your Majesty," she replied proudly, "and I, him."
+
+"Thou lov'st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade," cried Henry. "Thou,
+a De Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen this murderer's
+accursed mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunt
+his defiance in the King's, thy uncle's, face, and bend his whole life
+to preying upon thy people; thou lov'st this monster?"
+
+"I love him, My Lord King."
+
+"Thou lov'st him, Bertrade?" asked Philip of France in a low tone,
+pressing nearer to the girl.
+
+"Yes, Philip," she said, a little note of sadness and finality in her
+voice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.
+
+Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, and
+facing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of
+Torn.
+
+"That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen," he said.
+"Who takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of France
+as well."
+
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other's shoulder.
+
+"No, thou must not do this thing, my friend," he said. "It be my fight
+and I will fight it alone. Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee,
+out of harm's way."
+
+As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together, and,
+at a word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the attack
+again. It was a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two could
+not fight with the girl between them and their adversaries. And thus,
+by weight of numbers, they took Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince away
+from Norman of Torn without a blow being struck, and then the little,
+grim, gray, old man stepped forward.
+
+"There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can,
+alone, take Norman of Torn," he said, addressing the King, "and that
+sword be mine. Keep thy cattle back, out of my way." And, without
+waiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom for
+twenty years he had called son.
+
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, and
+there, in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of Battel,
+was fought such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor is it
+credible that its like was ever fought before or since.
+
+The world's two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil--the one with the
+strength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray fox,
+and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of blood
+and hate before them--thrust and parried and cut until those that gazed
+awestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in the
+tensity of their wonder.
+
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come to
+kill pressed back to make room for the contestants. Now was the young
+man forcing his older foeman more and more upon the defensive. Slowly,
+but as sure as death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory.
+The old man saw it too. He had devoted years of his life to training
+that mighty sword arm that it might deal out death to others, and
+now--ah! The grim justice of the retribution he, at last, was to fall
+before its diabolical cunning.
+
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wily
+Frenchman saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt its
+cold breath condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and so he
+cast about for any means whereby he might escape the result of his rash
+venture.
+
+Presently he saw his opportunity. Norman of Torn stood beside the body
+of one of his earlier antagonists. Slowly the old man worked around
+until the body lay directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final
+rally and one great last burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushed
+Norman of Torn back for a bare step--it was enough. The outlaw's foot
+struck the prostrate corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant his
+sword arm rose, ever so little, as he strove to retain his equilibrium;
+but that little was enough. It was what the gray old snake had expected,
+and he was ready. Like lightning, his sword shot through the opening,
+and, for the first time in his life of continual combat and death,
+Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh. But ere he fell, his
+sword responded to the last fierce command of that iron will, and as his
+body sank limply to the floor, rolling with outstretched arms, upon its
+back, the little, grim, gray man went down also, clutching frantically
+at a gleaming blade buried in his chest.
+
+For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and then
+Bertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of her
+father, rushed to the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved.
+Kneeling there beside him she called his name aloud, as she unlaced
+his helm. Tearing the steel headgear from him, she caressed his face,
+kissing the white forehead and the still lips.
+
+"Oh God! Oh God!" she murmured. "Why hast thou taken him? Outlaw though
+he was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of true
+manhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+
+"I do not wonder that he preyed upon you," she cried, turning upon the
+knights behind her. "His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyal
+to his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all; and
+ever be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink deeper
+into the mud. Mon Dieu! How I hate you," she finished. And as she spoke
+the words, Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of her
+father.
+
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad, kindly
+man, and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of anger.
+
+"Come, child," said the King, "thou art distraught; thou sayest what
+thou mean not. The world is better that this man be dead. He was an
+enemy of organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows. Life in
+England will be safer after this day. Do not weep over the clay of a
+nameless adventurer who knew not his own father."
+
+Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting posture.
+He was not dead. Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his frame was
+racked with suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils.
+
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak. Weakly he motioned toward
+the King. Henry came toward him.
+
+"Thou hast won thy sovereign's gratitude, my man," said the King,
+kindly. "What be thy name?"
+
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on another
+paroxysm of coughing. At last he managed to whisper.
+
+"Look--at--me. Dost thou--not--remember me?
+The--foils--the--blow--twenty-long-years. Thou--spat--upon--me."
+
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+
+"De Vac!" he exclaimed.
+
+The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn.
+
+"Outlaw--highwayman--scourge--of--England. Look--upon--his--face.
+Open--his tunic--left--breast."
+
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a final
+effort: "De--Vac's--revenge. God--damn--the--English," and slipped
+forward upon the rushes, dead.
+
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen. They stood looking
+into each other's eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed an
+eternity, before any dared to move; and then, as though they feared what
+they should see, they bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for the
+first time.
+
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up
+to hers.
+
+"Edward!" she whispered.
+
+"Not Edward, Madame," said De Montfort, "but--"
+
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay the
+unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to the
+waiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands,
+tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide the
+tunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.
+
+"Oh God!" he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the body
+of her second born, crying out:
+
+"Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!" And as she bent still lower to kiss the
+lily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for
+over twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her
+ear to his breast.
+
+"He lives!" she almost shrieked. "Quick, Henry, our son lives!"
+
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of
+France had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on
+his arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being
+enacted at her feet.
+
+Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness.
+Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor,
+knelt Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his
+hands.
+
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought the
+Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting
+against one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see whom
+it might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon
+whose breast his head rested.
+
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a very
+terrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why
+could he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyes
+wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standing
+uncovered and with bowed heads about him. Presently he found her.
+
+"Bertrade!" he whispered.
+
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.
+
+"Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream."
+
+"I be very real, dear heart," she answered, "and these others be real,
+also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing
+that has happened. These who wert thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy
+best friends now--that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peace
+until thou be better."
+
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faint
+sigh.
+
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen's, and all that
+night the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing
+his fevered forehead. The King's chirurgeon was there also, while the
+King and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses,
+or in the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is found
+again be always the best beloved.
+
+Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep;
+the fever and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health and
+iron constitution. The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+
+"You had best retire, ladies," he said, "and rest. The Prince will
+live."
+
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands on
+the part of the King's chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+
+"I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince," urged the chirurgeon.
+
+"Why call thou me prince?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee,"
+replied the chirurgeon, "and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt,
+thou mayst see her, My Lord."
+
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to a
+sentry who stood just without. The sentry transmitted the message to a
+young squire who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown
+open again from without, and a voice announced:
+
+"Her Majesty, the Queen!"
+
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came back
+to him the scene in the Queen's apartment the night before. It was all a
+sore perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he attempt to.
+
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward him
+across the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant
+with happiness and love.
+
+"Richard, my son!" exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his face
+in her hands and kissing him.
+
+"Madame!" exclaimed the surprised man. "Be all the world gone crazy?"
+
+And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince of
+England.
+
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his and
+raising it to his lips.
+
+"I did not know, Madame," he said, "or never would my sword have been
+bared in other service than thine. If thou canst forgive me, Madame,
+never can I forgive myself."
+
+"Take it not so hard, my son," said Eleanor of England. "It be no fault
+of thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and rejoicing
+should we feel, now that thou be found again."
+
+"Forgiveness!" said a man's voice behind them. "Forsooth, it be we
+that should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son with swords and
+halters.
+
+"Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who sent
+the King's army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King's message
+down his messenger's throat.
+
+"By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King's son, an' though
+we made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee now."
+
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the King
+standing behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and
+greeted his father.
+
+"They be sorry jokes, Sire," he said. "Methinks it had been better had
+Richard remained lost. It will do the honor of the Plantagenets but
+little good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood."
+
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King of
+England to wipe the great name from the pages of history--perhaps a
+jealous king.
+
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of the
+chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he had
+done so they left him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the
+door closed behind them than he arose and left the apartment by another
+exit.
+
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom he
+was searching. She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression half
+sad upon her beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached, and
+he stood there for several moments watching her dear profile, and the
+rising and falling of her bosom over that true and loyal heart that
+had beaten so proudly against all the power of a mighty throne for the
+despised Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense which
+warns us that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our ears
+hear, caused her to turn.
+
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner of
+the court, said:
+
+"What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor subject?"
+And then, more gravely, "My Lord, I have been raised at court, and I
+understand that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget what
+passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn."
+
+"Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal precedents," he
+replied, "for he will wed not rashly, but most wisely, since he will wed
+none but Bertrade de Montfort." And he who had been the Outlaw of Torn
+took the fair young girl in his arms, adding: "If she still loves me,
+now that I be a prince?"
+
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers.
+
+"It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince I
+love now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman--it be thee I
+love, dear heart--just thee."
+
+
+*****
+
+
+The following changes have been made:
+
+     PAGE  LINE  ORIGINAL     CHANGED TO
+       17    17  merks        marks
+       554   ertswhile        erstwhile
+       591   so so            do so
+       90    26  beats        beasts
+       934   presntly         presently
+      124    20  rescurer     rescuer
+      171    27  walls."      walls.
+      1843   gnetlemen        gentlemen
+      185    20  fored,       formed,
+      1866   to forces        the forces
+      195    19  those father whose father
+      2172   precipitably     precipitately
+      2175   litle            little
+      221    30  Monfort      Montfort
+      230    30  Montforth    Montfort
+      245    15  muderer's    murderer's
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The only changes that have been made to this text by Publisher's Choice
+Books and its General Manager/Editor have been the removal of all
+word-breaking hyphenation, and the occasional addition of a comma to
+separate certain phrases. These changes were effected merely to increase
+the Reader's reading ease and enjoyment of the text.
+
+The following spelling changes were effected within the text for reasons
+of clarity:
+
+"chid" to "chide" "sword play" to "swordplay" "subtile" to "subtle"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
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diff --git a/old/otorn10.txt b/old/otorn10.txt
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+++ b/old/otorn10.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9384 @@
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn, by Burroughs
+#10 in our Edgar Rice Burroughs Series [Tarzan, Mars, etc.]
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+Please take a look at the important information in this header.
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+The Outlaw of Torn
+
+by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+December, 1995  [Etext #369]
+
+
+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn, by Burroughs
+*****This file should be named otorn10.txt or otorn10.zip******
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+Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, otorn11.txt.
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+
+
+
+EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
+THE OUTLAW OF TORN
+
+
+
+To My Friend
+
+JOSEPH E. BRAY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+HERE is a story that has lain dormant for seven hun-
+dred years.  At first it was suppressed by one of the
+Plantagenet kings of England.  Later it was forgotten.  I
+happened to dig it up by accident.  The accident being
+the relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain Father
+Superior in a very ancient monastery in Europe.
+
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed
+and musty manuscripts and I came across this.  It is
+very interesting--partially since it is a bit of hitherto
+unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that it
+records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the
+adventurous life of its innocent victim--Richard, the
+lost prince of England.
+
+In the retelling of it I have left out most of the history.  
+What interested me was the unique character about
+whom the tale revolves--the visored horseman who--
+but let us wait until we get to him.
+
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while
+it was happening it shook England from north to south
+and from east to west; and reached across the channel
+and shook France.  It started, directly, in the London
+palace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel
+between the King and his powerful brother-in-law, Si-
+mon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.
+
+Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can
+read all about it at your leisure.  But on this June day in
+the year of our Lord 1243, Henry so forgot himself as
+to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason in the
+presence of a number of the King's gentlemen.
+
+De Montfort paled.  He was a tall, handsome man,
+and when he drew himself to his full height and turned
+those gray eyes on the victim of his wrath, as he did
+that day, he was very imposing.  A power in England,
+second only to the King himself, and with the heart of
+a lion in him, he answered the King as no other man
+in all England would have dared answer him.
+
+"My Lord King," he cried, "that you be my Lord
+King alone prevents Simon de Montfort from demand-
+ing satisfaction for such a gross insult.  That you take
+advantage of your kingship to say what you would
+never dare say were you not king, brands me not a
+traitor, though it does brand you a coward."
+
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords
+and courtiers as these awful words fell from the lips of
+a subject, addressed to his king.  They were horrified,
+for De Montfort's bold challenge was to them but little
+short of sacrilege.
+
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to
+advance upon De Montfort, but suddenly recollecting
+the power which he represented, he thought better of
+whatever action he contemplated, and with a haughty
+sneer turned to his courtiers.
+
+"Come, my gentlemen," he said, "methought that we
+were to have a turn with the foils this morning.  Already
+it waxeth late.  Come, De Fulm! Come, Leybourn!" and
+the King left the apartment followed by his gentlemen,
+all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester
+when it became apparent that the royal displeasure was
+strong against him.  As the arras fell behind the depart-
+ing King, De Montfort shrugged his broad shoulders,
+and turning, left the apartment by another door.
+
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the
+armory he was still smarting from the humiliation of
+De Montfort's reproaches, and as he laid aside his sur-
+coat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm
+his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules de
+Vac, who was advancing with the King's foil and helmet.  
+Henry felt in no mood for fencing with De Fulm, who,
+like the other sycophants that surrounded him, always
+allowed the King easily to best him in every encounter.
+
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a
+swordsman to permit himself to be overcome by aught
+but superior skill, and this day Henry felt that he could
+best the devil himself.
+
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of
+the palace, off the guard room.  It was built in a small
+wing of the building so that it had light from three
+sides.  In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-
+skinned Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry
+commanded to face him in mimic combat with the foils,
+for the King wished to go with hammer and tongs at
+someone to vent his suppressed rage.
+
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person
+of the hated De Montfort, and it followed that De Vac
+was nearly surprised into an early and mortifying defeat
+by the King's sudden and clever attack.
+
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swords-
+man, but that day he quite outdid himself, and in his
+imagination was about to run the pseudo De Montfort
+through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his audience.  
+For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded De
+Vac twice around the hall when, with a clever feint,
+and backward step, the master of fence drew the King
+into the position he wanted him, and with the sudden-
+ness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry's
+weapon clanging across the floor of the armory.
+
+For an instant the King stood as tense and white as
+though the hand of death had reached out and touched
+his heart with its icy fingers.  The episode meant more
+to him than being bested in play by the best swordsman
+in England--for that surely was no disgrace--to Henry
+it seemed prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle
+when he should stand face to face with the real De
+Montfort; and then, seeing in De Vac only the creature
+of his imagination with which he had vested the like-
+ness of his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he
+should like to have done to the real Leicester.  Drawing
+off his gauntlet he advanced close to De Vac.
+
+"Dog!" he hissed, and struck the master of fence a
+stinging blow across the face, and spat upon him.  Then
+he turned on his heel and strode from the armory.
+
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of
+England, but he hated all things English and all Eng-
+lishmen.  The dead King John, though hated by all
+others, he had loved, but with the dead King's bones
+De Vac's loyalty to the house he served had been buried
+in the Cathedral of Worcester.
+
+During the years he had served as master of fence at
+the English Court the sons of royalty had learned to
+thrust and parry and cut as only De Vac could teach the
+art; and he had been as conscientious in the discharge
+of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred
+and contempt for his pupils.
+
+And now the English King had put upon him such
+an insult as might only be wiped out by blood.
+
+As the blow fell the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels
+together, and throwing down his foil, he stood erect and
+rigid as a marble statue before his master.  White and
+livid was his tense drawn face, but he spoke no word.
+
+He might have struck the King, but then there would
+have been left to him no alternative save death by his
+own hand; for a king may not fight with a lesser mor-
+tal, and he who strikes a king may not live--the king's
+honor must be satisfied.
+
+Had a French king struck him De Vac would have
+struck back, and gloried in the fate which permitted
+him to die for the honor of France; but an English King
+--pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De
+Vac would find other means of satisfying his wounded
+pride, he would revel in revenge against this man for
+whom he felt no loyalty.  If possible, he would harm
+the whole of England if he could, but he would bide
+his time.  He could afford to wait for his opportunity
+if by waiting he could encompass a more terrible re-
+venge.
+
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French
+officer reputed the best swordsman in France.  The son
+had followed closely in the footsteps of his father until
+on the latter's death, he could easily claim the title of
+his sire.  How he had left France and entered the ser-
+vice of John of England is not of this story.  All the bear-
+ing that the life of Jules de Vac has upon the history
+of England hinges upon but two of his many attributes
+--his wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred
+for his adopted country.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+SOUTH of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the
+gardens, and here, on the third day following the King's
+affront to De Vac, might have been a seen a black-
+haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly em-
+broidered with gold about the yoke and at the bottom
+of the loose-pointed sleeves, which reached almost to
+the similar bordering on the lower hem of the garment.  
+A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious
+stones, and held in place by a huge carved buckle of
+gold, clasped the garment about her waist so that the
+upper portion fell outward over the girdle after the
+manner of a blouse.  In the girdle was a long dagger
+of beautiful workmanship.  Dainty sandals encased her
+feet, while a wimple of violet silk bordered in gold
+fringe, lay becomingly over her head and shoulders.
+
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three,
+clad, like his companion, in gay colors.  His tiny surcoat
+of scarlet velvet was rich with embroidery, while be-
+neath was a close-fitting tunic of white silk.  His doublet
+was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were cross-
+gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees.  
+On the back of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed,
+round-crowned hat in which a single plume of white
+waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proud
+little head.
+
+The child's features were well molded, and his frank,
+bright eyes gave an expression of boyish generosity to
+a face which otherwise would have been too arrogant
+and haughty for such a mere baby.  As he talked with
+his companion, little flashes of peremptory authority
+and dignity, which sat strangely upon one so tiny,
+caused the young woman at times to turn her head
+from him that he might not see the smiles which she
+could scarce repress.
+
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and,
+pointing at a little bush near them, said, "Stand you
+there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush, I would play at
+toss."
+
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she
+had taken her place and turned to face him the boy
+threw the ball to her.  Thus they played beneath the
+windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after
+the ball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting
+in happy glee when he made a particularly good catch.
+
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the
+garden stood a grim, gray, old man, leaning upon his
+folded arms, his brows drawn together in a malignant
+scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
+
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child,
+and upon the lovely young woman beneath him, but
+with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was working
+out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+
+For three days the old man had brooded over his
+grievance, seeking for some means to be revenged upon
+the King for the insult which Henry had put upon him.  
+Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd
+and cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as
+unworthy of the terrible satisfaction which his wounded
+pride demanded.
+
+His fancies had for the most part revolved about the
+unsettled political conditions of Henry's reign, for from
+these he felt he might wrest that opportunity which
+could be turned to his own personal uses and to the
+harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King.
+
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listen-
+er in the armory when the King played at sword with
+his friends and favorites, De Vac had heard much
+which passed between Henry III and his intimates that
+could well be turned to the King's harm by a shrewd
+and resourceful enemy.
+
+With all England he knew the utter contempt in
+which Henry held the terms of the Magna Charta
+which he so often violated along with his kingly oath
+to maintain it.  But what all England did not know De
+Vac had gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped
+in the armory: that Henry was even now negotiating
+with the leaders of foreign mercenaries, and with Louis
+IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights and men-
+at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons
+that he might effectively put a stop to all future inter-
+ference by them with the royal prerogative of the Plan-
+tagenets to misrule England.
+
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought
+De Vac: the point of landing of the foreign troops;
+their numbers; the first point of attack.  Ah, would it
+not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in this
+venture so dear to his heart!
+
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring
+the barons and their retainers forty thousand strong to
+overwhelm the King's forces.
+
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for
+what cause, he was beholden for his defeat and dis-
+comfiture.  Possibly the barons would depose Henry,
+and place a new king upon England's throne, and then
+De Vac would mock the Plantagenet to his face.  Sweet,
+kind, delectable vengeance, indeed! and the old man
+licked his thin lips as though to taste the last sweet
+vestige of some dainty morsel.
+
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath
+the window where the old man stood; and as the child
+ran, laughing, to recover it, De Vac's eyes fell upon him,
+and his former plan for revenge melted as the fog
+before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened
+to him the whole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance
+as clearly as it were writ upon the leaves of a great
+book that had been thrown wide before him.  And, in
+so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from
+the details of that vividly conceived masterpiece of
+hellishness during the twenty years which followed.
+
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden
+of his royal father was Prince Richard, the three-year-
+old son of Henry III of England.  No published history
+mentions this little lost prince; only the secret archives
+of the kings of England tell the story of his strange
+and adventurous life.  His name has been blotted from
+the records of men; and the revenge of De Vac has
+passed from the eyes of the world; though in his time it
+was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of the Eng-
+lish.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+FOR nearly a month the old man haunted the palace,
+and watched in the gardens for the little Prince until
+he knew the daily routine of his tiny life with his nurses
+and governesses.
+
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him
+they were wont to repair to the farthermost extremities
+of the palace grounds where, by a little postern gate,
+she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom
+the Queen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
+
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered
+their hopes and plans, unmindful of the royal charge
+playing neglected among the flowers and shrubbery of
+the garden.
+
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans
+well laid.  He had managed to coax old Brus, the gar-
+dener, into letting him have the key to the little postern
+gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a mid-
+night escapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who
+was to be the partner of his adventure, and, what was
+more to the point with Brus, at the same time slipping
+a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm.
+
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De
+Vac a loyal retainer of the house of Plantagenet.  What-
+ever else of mischief De Vac might be up to, Brus was
+quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, the
+key to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands
+as though Henry himself had it.
+
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose
+old master of fence should, at his time in life, indulge
+in frivolous escapades more befitting the younger sprigs
+of gentility, but, then, what concern was it of his? Did
+he not have enough to think about to keep the gardens
+so that his royal master and mistress might find pleas-
+ure in the shaded walks, the well-kept sward, and the
+gorgeous beds of foliage plants and blooming flowers
+which he set with such wondrous precision in the formal
+garden?
+
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by
+so easily as this; and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in
+his infinite wisdom, to take this means of rewarding his
+poor servant it ill became such a worm as he to ignore
+the divine favor.  So Brus took the gold zecchins and
+De Vac the key, and the little prince played happily
+among the flowers of his royal father's garden, and all
+were satisfied; which was as it should have been.
+
+That night De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the
+far side of London; one who could not possibly know
+him or recognize the key as belonging to the palace.  
+Here he had a duplicate made, waiting impatiently
+while the old man fashioned it with the crude instru-
+ments of his time.
+
+From this little shop De Vac threaded his way
+through the dirty lanes and alleys of ancient London,
+lighted at far intervals by an occasional smoky lantern,
+until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance
+from the palace.
+
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly
+at the bank of the Thames in a moldering wooden dock,
+beneath which the inky waters of the river rose and fell,
+lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath the
+dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great
+fierce dock rats and their fiercer human antitypes.
+
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black
+alley in search of the little doorway of the building he
+sought.  At length he came upon it, and, after repeated
+pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened
+by a slatternly old hag.
+
+"What would ye of a decent woman at such an un-
+godly hour?" she grumbled.  "Ah, 'tis ye, my lord?" she
+added, hastily, as the flickering rays of the candle she
+bore lighted up De Vac's face.  "Welcome, my Lord,
+thrice welcome.  The daughter of the devil welcomes
+her brother."
+
+"Silence, old hag," cried De Vac.  "Is it not enough
+that you leech me of good marks of such a quantity
+that you may ever after wear mantles of villosa and
+feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must
+needs burden me still further with the affliction of thy
+vile tongue?
+
+"Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key,
+also, to this gate to perdition? And the room: didst set
+to rights the furnishings I had delivered here, and
+sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and cob-
+webs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air
+reeked of the dead Romans who builded London twelve
+hundred years ago.  Methinks, too, from the stink, they
+must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty
+with their herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast
+never touched broom to the place for fear of disturb-
+ing the ancient relics of thy kin."
+
+"Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan," cried the woman.  
+"I would rather hear thy money talk than thou, for
+though it come accursed and tainted from thy rogue
+hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and command-
+ing voice as it were fresh from the coffers of the holy
+church.
+
+"The bundle is ready," she continued, closing the
+door after De Vac, who had now entered, "and here be
+the key; but first let us have a payment.  I know not
+what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from
+the secrecy which you have demanded, an' I dare say
+there will be some who would pay well to learn the
+whereabouts of the old woman and the child, thy sister
+and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious
+to hide away in old Til's garret.  So it be well for you,
+my Lord, to pay old Til well and add a few guilders
+for the peace of her tongue if you would that your
+prisoner find peace in old Til's house."
+
+"Fetch me the bundle, hag," replied De Vac, "and
+you shall have gold against a final settlement; more
+even than we bargained for if all goes well and thou
+holdest thy vile tongue."
+
+But the old woman's threats had already caused De
+Vac a feeling of uneasiness, which would have been
+reflected to an exaggerated degree in the old woman
+had she known the determination her words had caused
+in the mind of the old master of fence.
+
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of
+exposure too fraught with danger, to permit of his tak-
+ing any chances with a disloyal fellow-conspirator.  True,
+he had not even hinted at the enormity of the plot in
+which he was involving the old woman, but, as she
+had said, his stern commands for secrecy had told
+enough to arouse her suspicions, and with them her
+curiosity and cupidity.  So it was that old Til might
+well have quailed in her tattered sandals had she but
+even vaguely guessed the thoughts which passed in De
+Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieces he dropped into
+her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him,
+together with the promise of more, quite effectually
+won her loyalty and her silence for the time being.
+
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and
+covering the bundle with his long surcoat, De Vac
+stepped out into the darkness of the alley and hastened
+toward the dock.
+
+Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had
+moored there earlier in the evening, and underneath
+one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.  Then, casting off,
+he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palace
+walls, he moored near to the little postern gate which
+let into the lower end of the garden.
+
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled
+bushes which grew to the water's edge, set there by
+order of the King to add to the beauty of the aspect
+from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern
+and, unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments
+in the palace.
+
+The next day he returned the original key to Brus,
+telling the old man that he had not used it after all,
+since mature reflection had convinced him of the folly
+of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose
+youth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of
+the Thames might find lodgement for rheumatism.
+
+"Ha, Sir Jules," laughed the old gardener, "Virtue
+and Vice be twin sisters who come running to do the
+bidding of the same father, Desire.  Were there no
+desire there would be no virtue, and because one man
+desires what another does not, who shall say whether
+the child of his desire be vice or virtue? Or on the other
+hand if my friend desires his own wife and if that be
+virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not that likewise
+virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtain
+our desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the
+Thames' fog then it were virtue to remain at home."
+
+"Right you sound, old mole," said De Vac, smiling,
+"would that I might learn to reason by your wondrous
+logic; methinks it might stand me in good stead before
+I be much older."
+
+"The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no
+other logic than the sword, I should think," said Brus,
+returning to his work.
+
+
+That afternoon De Vac stood in a window of the
+armory looking out upon the beautiful garden which
+spread before him to the river wall two hundred yards
+away.  In the foreground were box-bordered walks,
+smooth, sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flow-
+ering plants, while here and there marble statues of
+wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in the bril-
+liant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush,
+took on a semblance of life from the riotous play of
+light and shadow as the leaves above them moved to
+and fro in the faint breeze.  Farther in the distance the
+river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes,
+and the formal, geometric precision of the nearer view
+was relieved by a background of vine-colored bowers,
+and a profusion of small trees and flowering shrubs
+arranged in studied disorder.
+
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and
+the carved stone benches of the open garden gave place
+to rustic seats, and swings suspended from the branches
+of fruit trees.
+
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the
+Lady Maud and her little charge, Prince Richard; all
+ignorant of the malicious watcher in the window be-
+hind them.
+
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk be-
+fore them, and, as Richard ran, childlike, after it, Lady
+Maud hastened on to the little postern gate which she
+quickly unlocked admitting her lover who had been
+waiting without.  Relocking the gate the two strolled
+arm in arm to the little bower which was their trysting
+place.
+
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little
+Prince played happily about among the trees and flow-
+ers, and none saw the stern, determined face which
+peered through the foliage at a little distance from the
+playing boy.
+
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an
+elusive butterfly which fate led nearer and nearer to the
+cold, hard watcher in the bushes.  Closer and closer
+came the little Prince, and in another moment he had
+burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing
+the implacable master of fence.
+
+"Your Highness," said De Vac, bowing to the little
+fellow, "let old De Vac help you catch the pretty insect."
+
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him,
+and so together they started in pursuit of the butter-
+fly which by now had passed out of sight.  De Vac
+turned their steps toward the little postern gate, but
+when he would have passed through with the tiny
+Prince the latter rebelled.
+
+"Come, My Lord Prince," urged De Vac, "methinks
+the butterfly did but alight without the wall, we can
+have it and return within the garden in an instant."
+
+"Go thyself and fetch it," replied the Prince; "the
+King, my father, has forbid me stepping without the
+palace grounds."
+
+"Come," commanded De Vac, more sternly, "no harm
+can come to you."
+
+But the child hung back and would not go with him
+so that De Vac was forced to grasp him roughly by
+the arm.  There was a cry of rage and alarm from the
+royal child.
+
+"Unhand me, sirrah," screamed the boy.  "How dare
+you lay hands on a prince of England?"
+
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to
+still his cries, but it was too late, the Lady Maud and
+her lover had heard, and in an instant they were rush-
+ing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing his
+sword as he ran.
+
+When they reached the wall De Vac and the Prince
+were upon the outside, and the Frenchman had closed
+and was endeavoring to lock the gate.  But handicapped
+by the struggling boy he had not time to turn the key
+before the officer threw himself against the panels and
+burst out before the master of fence, closely followed
+by the Lady Maud.
+
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now
+thoroughly affrightened Prince with his left hand, drew
+his sword and confronted the officer.
+
+There were no words, there was no need of words;
+De Vac's intentions were too plain to necessitate any
+parley, so the two fell upon each other with grim fury;
+the brave officer facing the best swordsman that France
+had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his
+young prince.
+
+In a moment De Vac had disarmed him, but, con-
+trary to the laws of chivalry, he did not lower his point
+until it had first plunged through the heart of his brave
+antagonist.  Then with a bound he leaped between Lady
+Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into
+the garden and give the alarm.
+
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip he
+stood facing the lady in waiting, his back against the
+door.
+
+"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules," she cried, "hast thou gone
+mad?"
+
+"No, My Lady," he answered, "but I had not thought
+to do the work which now lies before me.  Why didst
+thou not keep a still tongue in thy head and let his
+patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling?
+Your rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it
+must be either you or I, My Lady, and it cannot be I.
+Say thy prayers and compose thyself for death."
+
+
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council cham-
+ber surrounded by the great lords and nobles who com-
+posed his suit.  He awaited Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap
+still further indignities upon him with the intention of
+degrading and humiliating him that he might leave
+England forever.  The King feared this mighty kinsman
+who so boldly advised him against the weak follies
+which were bringing his kingdom to a condition of
+revolution.
+
+What the outcome of this audience would have been
+none may say, for Leicester had but just entered and
+saluted his sovereign when there came an interruption
+which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier
+in a common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
+
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the
+arras parted, and Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered
+toward the throne, tears streaming down her pale
+cheeks.
+
+"Oh, My Lord! My Lord!' she cried, "Richard our
+son, has been assassinated and thrown into the Thames."
+
+In an instant all was confusion and turmoil, and it
+was with the greatest difficulty that the King finally
+obtained a coherent statement from his queen.
+
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned
+to the palace with Prince Richard at the proper time,
+the Queen had been notified and an immediate search
+had been instituted--a search which did not end for
+over twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the
+hearts of the court to stone, for there beside the open
+postern gate lay the dead bodies of Lady Maud and a
+certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere was there a
+sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III
+of England, and at that time the youngest prince of
+the realm.
+
+
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was
+noted, and then it was that one of the lords in waiting
+to the King reminded his majesty of the episode of the
+fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the
+King's little son became apparent.
+
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of
+every child in England, for on the left breast of the little
+Prince was a birthmark which closely resembled a lily,
+and when after a year no child was found bearing such
+a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search
+was carried into France, nor was it ever wholly relin-
+quished at any time for more than twenty years.
+
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly aban-
+doned when it was subjected to the light of reason,
+for it was evident that an assassin could have dispatched
+the little Prince at the same time that he killed the Lady
+Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
+
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard
+was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affec-
+tion for his royal nephew had always been so marked
+as to have been commented upon by the members of
+the King's household.
+
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort
+and his king was healed, and although the great noble-
+man was divested of his authority in Gascony he suf-
+fered little further oppression at the hands of his royal
+master.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+AS De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady
+Maud he winced, for, merciless though he was, he had
+shrunk from this cruel task.  Too far he had gone, how-
+ever, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady
+Maud alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the
+city of London would have been on his heels in ten
+minutes; there would have been no escape.
+
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could
+but tremble and whimper in his fright.  So fearful was
+he of the terrible De Vac that a threat of death easily
+stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led him to
+the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes.
+
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark,
+as he had first intended.  Instead he drew a dingy,
+ragged dress from the bundle beneath the thwart and
+in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a
+cotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide
+his short hair.  Concealing the child beneath the other
+articles of clothing he pushed off from the bank, and,
+rowing close to the shore, hastened down the Thames
+toward the old dock where, the previous night, he had
+concealed his skiff.  He reached his destination unno-
+ticed, and, running in beneath the dock, worked the
+boat far into the dark recess of the cave-like retreat.
+
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen,
+for he knew that the search would be on for the little
+lost Prince at any moment, and that none might traverse
+the streets of London without being subject to the closest
+scrutiny.
+
+Taking advantage of the forced wait De Vac un-
+dressed the Prince and clothed him in other garments,
+which had been wrapped in the bundle hidden beneath
+the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match,
+a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather
+cap.
+
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped
+about a huge stone torn from the disintegrating masonry
+of the river wall, and consigned the bundle to the voice-
+less river.
+
+The Prince had by now regained some of his for-
+mer assurance, and, finding that De Vac seemed not to
+intend harming him, the little fellow commenced ques-
+tioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this
+strange adventure getting the better of his former ap-
+prehension.
+
+"What do we here, Sir Jules?" he asked.  "Take me
+back to the King's, my father's palace.  I like not this
+dark hole nor the strange garments you have placed
+upon me."
+
+"Silence, boy!" commanded the old man.  "Sir Jules
+be dead, nor are you a king's son.  Remember these
+two things well, nor ever again let me hear you speak
+the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince."
+
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone
+of his captor.  Presently he began to whimper, for he
+was tired and hungry and frightened--just a poor little
+baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands of this cruel
+enemy all his royalty as nothing, all gone with the
+silken finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom
+of the Thames--and presently he dropped into a fitful
+sleep in the bottom of the skiff.
+
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff
+outward to the side of the dock and gathering the sleep-
+ing child in his arms stood listening, preparatory to
+mounting to the alley which led to old Til's place.
+
+As he stood thus a faint sound of clanking armor
+came to his attentive ears; louder and louder it grew
+until there could be no doubt but that a number of
+men were approaching.
+
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again
+drew it far beneath the dock.  Scarcely had he done so
+ere a party of armored knights and men-at-arms clanked
+out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the
+dark alley.  Here they stopped as though for consulta-
+tion and plainly could the listener below hear every
+word of their conversation.
+
+"De Montfort," said one, "what thinkest thou of it?
+Can it be that the Queen is right and that Richard lies
+dead beneath these black waters?"
+
+"No, De Clare," replied a deep voice, which De Vac
+recognized as that of the Earl of Leicester.  "The hand
+that could steal the Prince from out of the very gardens
+of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or her
+companion, which must evidently have been the case,
+could more easily and safely have dispatched him with-
+in the gardens had that been the object of this strange
+attack.  I think, My Lord, that presently we shall hear
+from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince
+for ransom.  God give that such may be the case, for
+of all the winsome and affectionate little fellows I
+have ever seen, not even excepting mine own dear son,
+the little Richard was the most to be beloved.  Would
+that I might get my hands upon the foul devil who has
+done this horrid deed."
+
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leices-
+ter stood, lay the object of his search.  The clanking
+armor, the heavy spurred feet, and the voices above
+him had awakened the little Prince and with a startled
+cry he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff.  Instantly
+De Vac's iron band clapped over the tiny mouth, but
+not before a single faint wail had reached the ears of
+the men above.
+
+"Hark! What was that, My Lord?" cried one of the
+men-at-arms.
+
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the
+sound and then De Montfort cried out:
+
+"What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock?
+Answer, in the name of the King!"
+
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle,
+struggled to free himself, but De Vac's ruthless hand
+crushed out the weak efforts of the babe, and all was
+quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening
+for a repetition of the sound.
+
+"Dock rats," said De Clare, and then as though the
+devil guided them to protect his own, two huge rats
+scurried upward from between the loose boards, and
+ran squealing up the dark alley.
+
+"Right you are," said De Montfort, "but I could have
+sworn 'twas a child's feeble wail had I not seen the
+two filthy rodents with mine own eyes.  Come, let us
+to the next vile alley.  We have met with no success
+here, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed
+overanxious to bargain for the future information she
+seemed hopeful of being able to give us."
+
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the
+ears of the listeners beneath the dock and soon were
+lost in the distance.
+
+"A close shave," thought De Vac, as he again took up
+the child and prepared to gain the dock.  No further
+noises occurring to frighten him he soon reached the
+door to Til's house and inserting the key crept noise-
+lessly to the garret room which he had rented from his
+ill-favored hostess.
+
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the
+garret above, this ascent being made by means of a
+wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up after him,
+closing and securing the aperture, through which he
+climbed with his burden, by means of a heavy trap-
+door equipped with thick bars.
+
+The apartment which they now entered extended
+across the entire east end of the building, and had
+windows upon three sides.  These were heavily cur-
+tained.  The apartment was lighted by a small cresset
+hanging from a rafter near the center of the room.
+
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters un-
+ceiled; the whole bearing a most barnlike and unhos-
+pitable appearance.
+
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a
+smaller cot; a cupboard, a table, and two benches com-
+pleted the furnishings.  These articles De Vac had pur-
+chased for the room against the time when he should
+occupy it with his little prisoner.
+
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthen-
+ware jar containing honey, a pitcher of milk and two
+drinking horns.  To these De Vac immediately gave
+his attention, commanding the child to partake of what
+he wished.
+
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince's
+fears, and he set to with avidity upon the strange, rough
+fare, made doubly coarse by the rude utensils and the
+bare surroundings, so unlike the royal magnificence of
+his palace apartments.
+
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower
+floor of the building in search of Til whom he now
+thoroughly mistrusted and feared.  The words of De
+Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, con-
+vinced him that here was one more obstacle to the
+fulfillment of his revenge which must be removed as
+had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was
+neither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the
+intended victim, or to cause the grim executioner a pang
+of remorse.
+
+When he found the old hag she was already dressed
+to go upon the street, in fact he intercepted her at the
+very door of the building.  Still clad as he was in the
+mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til did not, at
+first, recognize him, and when he spoke she burst into
+a nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in the perpe-
+tration of some questionable act, nor did her manner
+escape the shrewd notice of the wily master of fence.
+
+"Whither, old hag?" he asked.
+
+"To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end, by the river,
+My Lord," she replied, with more respect than she had
+been wont to accord him.
+
+"Then I will accompany you part way, my friend,
+and, perchance, you can give me a hand with some
+packages I left behind me in the skiff I have moored
+there."
+
+And so the two walked together through the dark
+alley to the end of the rickety, dismantled dock; the
+one thinking of the vast reward the King would lavish
+upon her for the information she felt sure she alone
+could give; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the
+hilt of a long dagger which nestled there.
+
+As they reached the water's edge De Vac was walking
+with his right shoulder behind his companion's left, in
+his hand was gripped the keen blade and as the woman
+halted on the dock the point that hovered just below
+her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her
+heart at the same instant that De Vac's left hand swung
+up and grasped her throat in a grip of steel.
+
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the con-
+vulsively stiffening old muscles, and then, with a push
+from De Vac, the body lunged forward into the Thames,
+where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope
+that Prince Richard might be rescued from the clutches
+of his Nemesis.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+FOR three years following the disappearance of Prince
+Richard a bent old woman lived in the heart of London
+within a stone's throw of the King's palace.  In a small
+back room she lived, high up in the attic of an old
+building, and with her was a little boy who never went
+abroad alone, nor by day.  And upon his left breast was
+a strange mark which resembled a lily.  When the bent
+old woman was safely in her attic room, with bolted
+door behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and
+discard her dingy mantle for more comfortable and
+becoming doublet and hose.
+
+For years she worked assiduously with the little boy's
+education.  There were three subjects in her curriculum;
+French, swordsmanship and hatred of all things Eng-
+lish, especially the reigning house of England.
+
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had
+commenced teaching the little boy the art of fence
+when he was but three years old.
+
+"You will be the greatest swordsman in the world
+when you are twenty, my son," she was wont to say,
+"and then you shall go out and kill many Englishmen.  
+Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and
+breadth of England, and when you finally stand with
+the halter about your neck--a--ha, then will I speak.  
+Then shall they know."
+
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew
+that he was comfortable, and had warm clothing, and
+all he required to eat, and that he would be a great
+man when he learned to fight with a real sword, and
+had grown large enough to wield one.  He also knew
+that he hated Englishmen, but why, he did not know.
+
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, child-
+ish head he seemed to remember a time when his life
+and surroundings had been very different; when, in-
+stead of this old woman, there had been many people
+around him, and a sweet faced woman had held him
+in her arms and kissed him, before he was taken off to
+bed at night; but he could not be sure, maybe it was
+only a dream he remembered, for he dreamed many
+strange and wonderful dreams.
+
+When the little boy was about six years of age a
+strange man came to their attic home to visit the little
+old woman.  It was in the dusk of the evening but the
+old woman did not light the cresset, and further, she
+whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows
+of a far corner of the bare chamber.
+
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard
+which hid almost his entire face except for two piercing
+eyes, a great nose and a bit of wrinkled forehead.  When
+he spoke he accompanied his words with many shrugs
+of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms
+and other strange and amusing gesticulations.  The child
+was fascinated.  Here was the first amusement of his
+little starved life.  He listened intently to the conversa-
+tion, which was in French.
+
+"I have just the thing for madame," the stranger
+was saying.  "It be a noble and stately hall far from the
+beaten way.  It was built in the old days by Harold the
+Saxon, but in later times death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descend-
+ants.  A few years since Henry granted it to that spend-
+thrift favorite of his, Henri de Macy, who pledged it
+to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay.  Today
+it be my property, and as it be far from Paris you may
+have it for the mere song I have named.  It be a won-
+drous bargain, madame."
+
+"And when I come upon it I shall find that I have
+bought a crumbling pile of ruined masonry, unfit to
+house a family of foxes," replied the old woman peev-
+ishly.
+
+"One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the
+length of one wing hath sagged and tumbled in," ex-
+plained the old Frenchman.  "But the three lower stories
+be intact and quite habitable.  It be much grander even
+now than the castles of many of England's noble barons,
+and the price, madame--ah, the price be so ridiculously
+low."
+
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+
+"Come," said the Frenchman, "I have it.  Deposit the
+money with Isaac the Jew--thou knowest him?--and
+he shall hold it together with the deed for forty days,
+which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby and
+inspect thy purchase.  If thou be not entirely satisfied
+Isaac the Jew shall return thy money to thee and the
+deed to me, but if at the end of forty days thou hast not
+made demand for thy money then shall Isaac send the
+deed to thee and the money to me.  Be not this an easy
+and fair way out of the difficulty?"
+
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at
+last conceded that it seemed quite a fair way to ar-
+range the matter.  And thus it was accomplished.
+
+Several days later the little old woman called the
+child to her.
+
+"We start tonight upon a long journey to our new
+home.  Thy face shall be wrapped in many rags, for
+thou hast a most grievous toothache.  Dost understand?"
+
+"But I have no toothache.  My teeth do not pain
+me at all.  I--" expostulated the child.
+
+"Tut, tut," interrupted the little old woman.  "Thou
+hast a toothache, and so thy face must be wrapped in
+many rags.  And listen, should any ask thee upon the
+way why thy face be so wrapped thou art to say that
+thou hast a toothache.  And thou do not do as I say the
+King's men will take us and we shall be hanged, for
+the King hateth us.  If thou hatest the English King and
+lovest thy life do as I command."
+
+"I hate the King," replied the little boy.  "For this
+reason I shall do as thou sayest."
+
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long
+journey north toward the hills of Derby.  For many
+days they travelled, riding upon two small donkeys.  
+Strange sights filled the days for the little boy who
+remembered nothing outside the bare attic of his Lon-
+don home and the dirty London alleys that he had
+traversed only by night.
+
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and
+through dark, forbidding forests, and now and again
+they passed tiny hamlets of thatched huts.  Occasionally
+they saw armored knights upon the highway, alone or
+in small parties, but the child's companion always man-
+aged to hasten into cover at the road side until the
+grim riders had passed.
+
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside
+a little open glade across which the road wound, the
+boy saw two knights enter the glade from either side.  
+For a moment they drew rein and eyed each other in
+silence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon
+a black charger, cried out something to the other which
+the boy could not catch.  The other knight made no
+response other than to rest his lance upon his thigh and
+with lowered point ride toward his ebon adversary.  For
+a dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward
+one another but presently the knights urged them into
+full gallop, and when the two iron men on their iron
+trapped chargers came together in the center of the
+glade it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
+
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the
+linden shield of his foeman, the staggering weight of
+the mighty black charger hurtled upon the gray who
+went down with his rider into the dust of the highway.  
+The momentum of the black carried him fifty paces
+beyond the fallen horseman before his rider could rein
+him in, then the black knight turned to view the havoc
+he had wrought.  The gray horse was just staggering
+dizzily to his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and
+still where he had fallen.
+
+With raised visor the black knight rode back to the
+side of his vanquished foe.  There was a cruel smile
+upon his lips as he leaned toward the prostrate form.  
+He spoke tauntingly, but there was no response, then
+he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.
+Even this elicited no movement.  With a shrug of his
+iron clad shoulders the black knight wheeled and rode
+on down the road until he had disappeared from sight
+within the gloomy shadows of the encircling forest.
+
+The little boy was spell-bound.  Naught like this had
+he ever seen or dreamed.
+
+"Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son,"
+said the little old woman.
+
+"Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great
+black steed?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England
+with thy stout lance and mighty sword, and behind thee
+thou shalt leave a trail of blood and death, for every
+man shalt be thy enemy.  But come, we must be on our
+way."
+
+They rode on leaving the dead knight where he had
+fallen, but always in his memory the child carried the
+thing that he had seen, longing for the day when he
+should be great and strong like the formidable black
+knight.
+
+On another day as they were biding in a deserted
+hovel to escape the notice of a caravan of merchants
+journeying up-country with their wares, they saw a
+band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter
+of some bushes at the far side of the highway and fall
+upon the surprised and defenseless tradesmen.
+
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed
+mostly with bludgeons and daggers, with here and
+there a cross-bow.  Without mercy they attacked the old
+and the young, beating them down in cold blood even
+when they offered no resistance.  Those of the caravan
+who could escaped, the balance the highwaymen left
+dead or dying in the road, as they hurried away with
+their loot.
+
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he
+turned to the little old woman for sympathy he found
+a grim smile upon her thin lips.  She noted his expres-
+sion of dismay.
+
+"It is naught, my son.  But English curs setting upon
+English swine.  Some day thou shalt set upon both--
+they be only fit for killing."
+
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal
+about that which he had seen.  Knights were cruel to
+knights--the poor were cruel to the rich--and every
+day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind
+that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the
+poor.  He had seen them in all their sorrow and misery
+and poverty--stretching a long, scattering line all the
+way from London town.  Their bent backs, their poor
+thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attest-
+ing the weary wretchedness of their existence.
+
+"Be no one happy in all the world?" he once broke
+out to the old woman.
+
+"Only he who wields the mightiest sword," responded
+the old woman.  "You have seen, my son, that all Eng-
+lishmen are beasts.  They set upon and kill one another
+for little provocation or for no provocation at all.  When
+thou shalt be older thou shalt go forth and kill them all
+for unless thou kill them they will kill thee."
+
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they
+came to a little hamlet in the hills.  Here the donkeys
+were disposed of and a great horse purchased, upon
+which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting
+country away from the beaten track, until late one eve-
+ning they approached a ruined castle.
+
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit
+sky beyond, and where a portion of the roof had fallen
+in, the cold moon, shining through the narrow unglazed
+windows, gave to the mighty pile the likeness of a huge,
+many eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a deserted
+world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation.
+
+Before this somber pile the two dismounted.  The
+little boy was filled with awe and his childish imagina-
+tion ran riot as they approached the crumbling barbican
+on foot, leading the horse after them.  From the dark
+shadows of the ballium they passed into the moonlit
+inner court.  At the far end the old woman found the
+ancient stables, and here with decaying planks she
+penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of
+oats upon the floor for him from a bag which had bung
+across his rump.
+
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the
+castle, lighting their advance with a flickering pine
+knot.  The old planking of the floors, long unused,
+groaned and rattled beneath their approach.  There
+was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and
+a red fox dashed by in a frenzy of alarm toward the
+freedom of the outer night.
+
+Presently they came to the great hall.  The old wo-
+man pushed open the great doors upon their creaking
+hinges and lit up dimly the mighty, cavernous interior
+with the puny rays of their feeble torch.  As they
+stepped cautiously within an impalpable dust arose in
+little spurts from the long rotted rushes that crumbled
+beneath their feet.  A huge bat circled wildly with loud
+fluttering wings in evident remonstrance at this rude
+intrusion.  Strange creatures of the night scurried or
+wriggled across wall and floor.
+
+But the child was unafraid.  Fear had not been a part
+of the old woman's curriculum.  The boy did not know
+the meaning of the word, nor was he ever in his after
+life to experience the sensation.  With childish eagerness
+he followed his companion as she inspected the in-
+terior of the chamber.  It was still an imposing room.  
+The boy clapped his hands in delight at the beauties of
+the carved and panelled walls and the oak beamed
+ceiling, stained almost black from the smoke of torches
+and oil cressets that had lighted it in bygone days,
+aided, no doubt, by the wood fires which had burned
+in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the merry throng
+of noble revellers that had so often sat about the great
+table into the morning hours.
+
+Here they took up their abode.  But the bent, old
+woman was no longer an old woman--she had become
+a straight, wiry, active old man.
+
+The little boy's education went on--French, swords-
+manship and hatred of the English--the same thing
+year after year with the addition of horsemanship after
+he was ten years old.  At this time the old man com-
+menced teaching him to speak English, but with a
+studied and very marked French accent.  During all his
+life now he could not remember of having spoken to
+any living being other than his guardian, whom he had
+been taught to address as father.  Nor did the boy have
+any name--he was just "my son."
+
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard,
+exacting duties of his education that he had little time
+to think of the strange loneliness of his existence; nor
+is it probable that he missed that companionship of
+others of his own age of which, never having had ex-
+perience in it, he could scarce be expected to regret or
+yearn for.
+
+At fifteen the youth was a magnificent swordsman
+and horseman, and with an utter contempt for pain or
+danger--a contempt which was the result of the heroic
+methods adopted by the little old man in the training
+of him.  Often the two practiced with razor-sharp
+swords, and without armor or other protection of any
+description.
+
+"Thus only," the old man was wont to say, "mayst
+thou become the absolute master of thy blade.  Of such
+a nicety must be thy handling of the weapon that thou
+mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly,
+shouldst thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the
+control of a master hand, mayst be stopped before it
+inflicts so much as a scratch."
+
+But in practice there were many accidents, and
+then one or both of them would nurse a punctured
+skin for a few days.  So, while blood was often let on
+both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman
+who was so truly the master of his point that he could
+stop a thrust within a fraction of an inch of the spot he
+sought.
+
+At fifteen he was a very strong and straight and
+handsome lad.  Bronzed and hardy from his outdoor life;
+of few words, for there was none that he might talk
+with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for
+that he was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship;
+speaking French fluently and English poorly--and wait-
+ing impatiently for the day when the old man should
+send him out into the world with clanking armor and
+lance and shield to do battle with the knights of Eng-
+land.
+
+It was about this time that there occurred the first
+important break in the monotony of his existence.  Far
+down the rocky trail that led from the valley below
+through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three
+armored knights urged their tired horses late one after-
+noon of a chill autumn day.  Off the main road and far
+from any habitation, they had espied the castle's towers
+through a rift in the hills, and now they spurred toward
+it in search of food and shelter.
+
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills
+they suddenly emerged upon the downs below the
+castle where a sight met their eyes which caused them
+to draw rein and watch in admiration.  There before
+them upon the downs a boy battled with a lunging,
+rearing horse--a perfect demon of a black horse.  Strik-
+ing and biting in a frenzy of rage it sought ever to
+escape or injure the lithe figure which clung leech-like
+to its shoulder.
+
+The boy was on the ground.  His left hand grasped
+the heavy mane; his right arm lay across the beast's
+withers and his right hand drew steadily in upon a
+halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch about
+the horse's muzzle.  Now the black reared and wheeled,
+striking and biting, full upon the youth, but the active
+figure swung with him--always just behind the giant
+shoulder--and ever and ever he drew the great arched
+neck farther and farther to the right.
+
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great
+leaps he dragged the boy with him, but all his mighty
+efforts were unavailing to loosen the grip upon mane
+and withers.  Suddenly he reared straight into the air
+carrying the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge
+he threw himself backward upon the ground.
+
+"It's death!" exclaimed one of the knights, "he will
+kill the youth yet, Beauchamp."
+
+"No!" cried he addressed.  "Look! He is up again and
+the boy still clings as tightly to him as his own black
+hide."
+
+"'Tis true," exclaimed another, "but he hath lost what
+he had gained upon the halter--he must needs fight
+it all out again from the beginning."
+
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy
+again drawing the iron neck slowly to the right--the
+beast fighting and squealing as though possessed of a
+thousand devils.  A dozen times as the head bent far-
+ther and farther toward him the boy loosed his hold
+upon the mane and reached quickly down to grasp the
+near fore pastern.  A dozen times the horse shook off
+the new hold, but at length the boy was successful, and
+the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow.
+
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was
+on but three feet and his neck was drawn about in an
+awkward and unnatural position.  His efforts became
+weaker and weaker.  The boy talked incessantly to him
+in a quiet voice, and there was a shadow of a smile
+upon his lips.  Now he bore heavily upon the black
+withers pulling the horse toward him.  Slowly the beast
+sank upon his bent knee--pulling backward until his off
+fore leg was stretched straight before him.  Then with a
+final surge the youth pulled him over upon his side, and
+as he fell slipped prone beside him.  One sinewy hand
+shot to the rope just beneath the black chin--the other
+grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to
+gain his liberty, but with his head held to the earth he
+was as powerless in the hands of the boy as a baby
+would have been.  Then he sank panting and exhausted
+into mute surrender. 
+
+"Well done!" cried one of the knights.  "Simon de
+Montfort himself never mastered a horse in better or-
+der, my boy.  Who be thou?"
+
+In an instant the lad was upon his feet his eyes
+searching for the speaker.  The horse, released, sprang
+up also, and the two stood--the handsome boy and the
+beautiful black--gazing with startled eyes, like two wild
+things, at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+
+"Come, Sir Mortimer!" cried the boy, and turning
+he led the prancing but subdued animal toward the
+castle and through the ruined barbican into the court
+beyond.
+
+"What ho, there, lad!" shouted Paul of Merely.  "We
+wouldst not harm thee--come, we but ask the way to
+the castle of De Stutevill."
+
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+
+"Come, Sir Knights," spoke Paul of Merely, "we will
+ride within and learn what manner of churls inhabit
+this ancient rookery."
+
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent
+even in its ruined grandeur, they were met by a little,
+grim old man who asked them in no gentle tones what
+they would of them there.
+
+"We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills
+of thine, old man," replied Paul of Merely.  "We seek
+the castle of Sir John de Stutevill."
+
+"Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the
+first trail to the right, and when thou hast come there
+turn again to thy right and ride north beside the river--
+thou canst not miss the way--it be plain as the nose
+before thy face," and with that the old man turned to
+enter the castle.
+
+"Hold, old fellow!" cried the spokesman.  "It be nigh
+onto sunset now, and we care not to sleep out again
+this night as we did the last.  We will tarry with you
+then till morn that we may take up our journey re-
+freshed, upon rested steeds."
+
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace
+that he took them in to feed and house them over night.  
+But there was nothing else for it, since they would have
+taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it
+voluntarily.
+
+From their guests the two learned something of the
+conditions outside their Derby hills.  The old man
+showed less interest than he felt, but to the boy, not-
+withstanding that the names he heard meant nothing
+to him, it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the won-
+drous doings of earl and baron, bishop and king.
+
+"If the King does not mend his ways," said one of
+the knights, "we will drive his whole accursed pack of
+foreign blood-suckers into the sea."
+
+"De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times,
+and now that all of us, both Norman and Saxon barons,
+have already met together and formed a pact for our
+mutual protection the King must surely realize that the
+time for temporizing be past, and that unless he would
+have a civil war upon his hands he must keep the
+promises he so glibly makes, instead of breaking them
+the moment De Montfort's back be turned."
+
+"He fears his brother-in-law," interrupted another of
+the knights, "even more than the devil fears holy water.  
+I was in attendance on his majesty some weeks since
+when he was going down the Thames upon the royal
+barge.  We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm
+as I have ever seen, of which the King was in such
+abject fear that he commanded that we land at the
+Bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then
+were.  De Montfort, who was residing there, came to
+meet Henry, with all due respect, observing, 'What do
+you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed?' And what
+thinkest thou old 'waxen heart' replied? Why, still trem-
+bling, he said, 'I do indeed fear thunder and lightning
+much, but, by the hand of God, I tremble before you
+more than for all the thunder in Heaven!'"
+
+"I surmise," interjected the grim, old man, "that De
+Montfort has in some manner gained an ascendancy
+over the King.  Think you he looks so high as the throne
+itself?"
+
+"Not so," cried the oldest of the knights.  "Simon de
+Montfort works for England's weal alone--and methinks,
+nay knowest, that he would be first to spring to arms
+to save the throne for Henry.  He but fights the King's
+rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs
+seem to defy the King himself, it be but to save his
+tottering power from utter collapse.  But, gad, how the
+King hates him.  For a time it seemed that there might
+be a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the
+disappearance of the little Prince Richard, De Mont-
+fort devoted much of his time and private fortune to
+prosecuting a search through all the world for the little
+fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond.  This self-
+sacrificing interest on his part won over the King and
+Queen for many years, but of late his unremitting hos-
+tility to their continued extravagant waste of the na-
+tional resources has again hardened them toward him."
+
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the con-
+versation threatened, sent the youth from the room on
+some pretext, and himself left to prepare supper.
+
+As they were sitting at the evening meal one of the
+nobles eyed the boy intently, for he was indeed good to
+look upon; his bright handsome face, clear, intelligent
+gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a mass of
+brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling
+about his ears, where it was again cut square at the
+sides and back, after the fashion of the times.
+
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic
+of wool, stained red, over which he wore a short leath-
+ern jerkin, while his doublet was also of leather, a soft
+and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin.  His long
+hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer
+of skin, were of the same red wool as his tunic, while
+his strong leather sandals were cross-gartered half way
+to his knees with narrow bands of leather.
+
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword
+and a dagger and a round skull cap of the same materi-
+al, to which was fastened a falcon's wing, completed
+his picturesque and becoming costume.
+
+"Your son?" he asked, turning to the old man.
+
+"Yes," was the growling response.
+
+"He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his
+cursed French accent.
+
+"'S blood, Beauchamp," he continued, turning to one
+of his companions, "an' were he set down in court I
+wager our gracious Queen would he hard put to it to
+tell him from the young Prince Edward.  Dids't ever see
+so strange a likeness?"
+
+"Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly.  
+It is indeed a marvel," answered Beauchamp.
+
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy
+they would have seen a blanched face, drawn with
+inward fear and rage.
+
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three
+knights spoke in a grave quiet tone.
+
+"And how old might you be, my son?" he asked the
+boy.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And your name?"
+
+"I do not know what you mean.  I have no name.
+My father calls me son and no other ever before ad-
+dressed me."
+
+At this juncture the old man arose and left the room,
+saving he would fetch more food from the kitchen, but
+he turned immediately he had passed the doorway and
+listened from without.
+
+"The lad appears about fifteen," said Paul of Merely,
+lowering his voice, "and so would be the little lost
+Prince Richard, if he lives.  This one does not know
+his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like Prince
+Edward to be his twin."
+
+"Come, my son," he continued aloud, "open your
+jerkin and let us have a look at your left breast, we
+shall read a true answer there."
+
+"Are you Englishmen?" asked the boy without mak-
+ing a move to comply with their demand.
+
+"That we be, my son," said Beauchamp.
+
+"Then it were better that I die than do your bidding,
+for all Englishmen are pigs and I loathe them as be-
+comes a gentleman of France.  I do not uncover my
+body to the eyes of swine."
+
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected
+outbreak, finally burst into uproarious laughter.
+
+"Indeed," cried Paul of Merely, "spoken as one of
+the King's foreign favorites might speak, and they ever
+told the good God's truth.  But come lad, we would
+not harm you--do as I bid."
+
+"No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs
+at my side," answered the boy, "and as for doing as
+you bid, I take orders from no man other than my
+father."
+
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the dis-
+comfiture of Paul of Merely, but the latter's face hard-
+ened in anger, and without further words he strode
+forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy's
+leathern jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a
+sword and a quick sharp, "En garde!" from the boy.
+
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but
+draw his own weapon, in self-defense, for the sharp
+point of the boy's sword was flashing in and out against
+his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs, and
+the boy's tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and
+insults as it invited him to draw and defend himself
+or be stuck "like the English pig you are."
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the
+idea of drawing against this stripling, but he argued
+that he could quickly disarm him without harming the
+lad, and he certainly did not care to be further humili-
+ated before his comrades.
+
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful
+antagonist he discovered that, far from disarming him,
+he would have the devil's own job of it to keep from
+being killed.
+
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced
+such an agile and dexterous enemy, and as they backed
+this way and that about the room great beads of sweat
+stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he realized
+that he was fighting for his life against a superior
+swordsman.
+
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon
+subsided to grim smiles, and presently they looked on
+with startled faces in which fear and apprehension were
+dominant.
+
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a
+mouse.  No sign of exertion was apparent, and his
+haughty confident smile told louder than words that he
+had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy
+always advancing, Paul of Merely always retreating.  
+The din of their clashing swords and the heavy breath-
+ing of the older man were the only sounds, except as
+they brushed against a bench or a table.
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered
+at the thought of dying uselessly at the hands of a mere
+boy.  He would not call upon his friends for aid, but
+presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between
+them with drawn sword, crying "Enough, gentlemen,
+enough! You have no quarrel.  Sheathe your swords."
+
+But the boy's only response was, "En garde, cochon,"
+and Beauchamp found himself taking the center of the
+stage in the place of his friend.  Nor did the boy neglect
+Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in swordplay
+that caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their
+sockets.
+
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time
+it was a sheet of gleaming light, and now he was driving
+home his thrusts and the smile had frozen upon his
+lips--grim and stern.
+
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a
+dozen places when Greystoke rushed to their aid, and
+then it was that a little, wiry, gray man leaped agilely
+from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword took
+his place beside the boy.  It was now two against
+three and the three may have guessed, though they
+never knew, that they were pitted against the two
+greatest swordsmen in the world.
+
+"To the death," cried the little gray man, "a mort,
+mon fils." Scarcely had the words left his lips ere, as
+though it had but waited permission, the boy's sword
+flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely, and a Saxon
+gentleman was gathered to his fathers.
+
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy
+turned his undivided attention to Beauchamp.  Both
+these men were considered excellent swordsmen, but
+when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man's
+"a mort, mon fils," he shuddered, and the little hairs at
+the nape of his neck rose up, and his spine froze, for
+he knew that he had heard the sentence of death
+passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could
+vanquish such a swordsman as he who now faced him.
+
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead,
+the little old man led Greystoke to where the boy
+awaited him.
+
+"They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs
+the pleasure of revenge; a mort, mon fils."
+
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and
+he rushed the lad as a great bull might rush a teasing
+dog, but the boy gave back not an inch and when
+Greystoke stopped there was a foot of cold steel pro-
+truding from his back.
+
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the
+dry moat at the back of the ruined castle.  First they
+had stripped them, and when they took account of
+the spoils of the combat they found themselves richer
+by three horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold
+and silver money, ornaments and jewels, as well as the
+lances, swords and chain mail armor of their erstwhile
+guests.
+
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to him-
+self, was that the knowledge of the remarkable resem-
+blance between his ward and Prince Edward of Eng-
+land had come to him in time to prevent the undoing
+of his life's work.
+
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered,
+and so the old man had little difficulty in fitting one of
+the suits of armor to him, obliterating the devices so
+that none might guess to whom it had belonged.  This
+he did, and from then on the boy never rode abroad
+except in armor, and when he met others upon the high
+road his visor was always lowered that none might see
+his face.
+
+The day following the episode of the three knights
+the old man called the boy to him, saying,
+
+"It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to
+such questions as were put to thee yestereve by the
+pigs of Henry.  Thou art fifteen years of age, and thy
+name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle
+of Torn, thou mayst answer those whom thou desire to
+know it that thou art Norman of Torn; that thou be a
+French gentleman whose father purchased Torn and
+brought thee hither from France on the death of thy
+mother, when thou wert six years old.
+
+"But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best an-
+swer for an Englishman is the sword; naught else may
+penetrate his thick wit."
+
+And so was born that Norman of Torn whose name
+in a few short years was to strike terror to the hearts
+of Englishmen, and whose power in the vicinity of
+Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+FROM now on the old man devoted himself to the
+training of the boy in the handling of his lance and
+battle-axe, but each day also a period was allotted to
+the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned six-
+teen, even the old man himself was as but a novice
+by comparison with the marvelous skill of his pupil.
+
+During these days the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad
+in many directions until he knew every bypath within
+a radius of fifty miles of Torn.  Sometimes the old man
+accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+
+On one occasion he chanced upon a hut at the out-
+skirts of a small hamlet not far from Torn, and, with
+the curiosity of boyhood, determined to enter and have
+speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural
+desire for companionship was commencing to assert it-
+self.  In all his life he remembered only the company
+of the old man, who never spoke except when necessity
+required.
+
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the
+boy in armor pushed in, without the usual formality
+of knocking the old man looked up with an expression
+of annoyance and disapproval.
+
+"What now," he said, "have the King's men respect
+neither for piety nor age that they burst in upon the
+seclusion of a holy man without so much as a 'by your
+leave'?"
+
+"I am no king's man," replied the boy quietly, "I am
+Norman of Torn, who has neither a king nor a god,
+and who says 'by your leave' to no man.  But I have
+come in peace because I wish to talk to another than
+my father.  Therefore you may talk to me, priest," he
+concluded with haughty peremptoriness.
+
+"By the nose of John, but it must be a king has
+deigned to honor me with his commands," laughed the
+priest.  "Raise your visor, My Lord, I would fain look
+upon the countenance from which issue the commands
+of royalty."
+
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly
+eyes, and a round jovial face.  There was no bite in
+the tones of his good-natured retort, and so, smiling,
+the boy raised his visor.
+
+"By the ear of Gabriel," cried the good father, "a
+child in armor!"
+
+"A child in years, mayhap," replied the boy, "but a
+good child to own as a friend, if one has enemies who
+wear swords."
+
+"Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit
+I have few enemies no man has too many friends, and
+I like your face and your manner, though there be
+much to wish for in your manners.  Sit down and eat
+with me, and I will talk to your heart's content, for be
+there one other thing I more love than eating, it is
+talking."
+
+With the priest's aid the boy laid aside his armor, for
+it was heavy and uncomfortable, and together the two
+sat down to the meal that was already partially on the
+board.
+
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the
+lifetime of the good priest.  Whenever he could do so
+Norman of Torn visited his friend, Father Claude.  It
+was he who taught the boy to read and write in French,
+English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles
+could sign their own names.
+
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and
+among the higher classes of society, and all public docu-
+ments were inscribed either in French or Latin, al-
+though about this time the first proclamation written in
+the English tongue was issued by an English king to
+his subjects.
+
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights
+of others, to espouse the cause of the poor and weak, to
+revere God and to believe that the principal reason for
+man's existence was to protect woman.  All of virtue
+and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian
+had neglected to inculcate in the boy's mind the good
+priest planted there, but he could not eradicate his
+deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that
+the real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to
+the death with a sword.
+
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy's
+earlier visits to his new friend rather decided the latter
+that no arguments he could bring to bear could ever
+overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the
+boy's, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good
+father owed a great deal, possibly his life.
+
+As they were seated in the priest's hut one afternoon
+a rough knock fell upon the door which was immedi-
+ately pushed open to admit as disreputable a band of
+ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man.  Six of them
+there were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords
+and daggers at their sides.
+
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock
+of coarse black hair and a red, bloated face almost con-
+cealed by a huge matted black beard.  Behind him
+pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling
+mustache; while the third was marked by a terrible scar
+across his left cheek and forehead and from a blow
+which had evidently put out his left eye, for that socket
+was empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered
+the inflamed red of the hollow where his eye had been.
+
+"A ha, my hearties," roared the leader, turning to his
+motley crew, "fine pickings here indeed.  A swine of
+God fattened upon the sweat of such poor honest
+devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks, must
+have pieces of gold in his belt.
+
+"Say your prayers, my pigeons," he continued, with
+a vile oath, "for The Black Wolf leaves no evidence
+behind him to tie his neck with a halter later, and dead
+men talk the least."
+
+"If it be The Black Wolf," whispered Father Claude
+to the boy, "no worse fate could befall us for he preys
+ever upon the clergy, and when drunk as he now is,
+he murders his victims.  I will throw myself before them
+while you hasten through the rear doorway to your
+horse, and make good your escape." He spoke in French,
+and held his hands in the attitude of prayer, so that
+he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no idea
+that he was communicating with the boy.
+
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this
+clever ruse of the old priest, and, assuming a similar
+attitude, he replied in French:
+
+"The good Father Claude does not know Norman of
+Torn if he thinks he runs out the back door like an
+old woman because a sword looks in at the front door."
+
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+
+"I do not know what manner of grievance you hold
+against my good friend here, nor neither do I care.  It
+is sufficient that he is the friend of Norman of Torn,
+and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowl-
+edge the debt of friendship.  Have at you, sir knights of
+the great filth and the mighty stink!" and with drawn
+sword he vaulted over the table and fell upon the sur-
+prised leader.
+
+In the little room but two could engage him at once,
+but so fiercely did his blade swing and so surely did he
+thrust that in a bare moment The Black Wolf lay dead
+upon the floor and the red  giant, Shandy, was badly
+though not fatally wounded.  The four remaining ruffi-
+ans backed quickly from the hut, and a more cautious
+fighter would have let them go their way in peace, for
+in the open four against one are odds no man may pit
+himself against with impunity.  But Norman of Torn saw
+red when he fought and the red lured him ever on
+into the thickest of the fray.  Only once before had he
+fought to the death, but that once had taught him the
+love of it, and ever after until his death it marked his
+manner of fighting; so that men who loathed and hated
+and feared him were as one with those who loved him
+in acknowledging that never before had God joined
+in the human frame absolute supremacy with the sword
+and such utter fearlessness.
+
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with
+his victory he rushed out after the four knaves.  Once
+in the open, they turned upon him, but he sprang
+into their midst with his seething blade, and it was as
+though they faced four men rather than one, so quickly
+did he parry a thrust here and return a cut there.  In a
+moment one was disarmed, another down, and the
+remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the high
+road with Norman of Torn close at their heels.
+
+Young, agile and perfect in health he outclassed them
+in running as well as in swordsmanship, and ere they
+had made fifty paces both had thrown away their
+swords and were on their knees pleading for their lives.
+
+"Come back to the good priest's hut, and we shall
+see what he may say," replied Norman of Torn.
+
+On the way back they found the man who had been
+disarmed bending over his wounded comrade.  They
+were brothers, named Flory, and one would not desert
+the other.  It was evident that the wounded man was
+in no danger, so Norman of Torn ordered the others
+to assist him into the hut, where they found Red Shandy
+sitting propped against the wall while the good father
+poured the contents of a flagon down his eager throat.
+
+The villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when
+he saw his four comrades coming, unarmed and prison-
+ers, back to the little room.
+
+"The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory
+wounded, James Flory, One Eye Kanty and Peter the
+Hermit prisoners!" he ejaculated.
+
+"Man or devil! By the Pope's hind leg, who and
+what be ye?" he said, turning to Norman of Torn.
+
+"I be your master and ye be my men," said Norman
+of Torn.  "Me ye shall serve in fairer work than ye
+have selected for yourselves, but with fighting a plenty
+and good reward."
+
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to
+prey upon the clergy had given rise to an idea in the
+boy's mind, which had been revolving in a nebulous
+way within the innermost recesses of his subconscious-
+ness since his vanquishing of the three knights had
+brought him, so easily, such riches in the form of horses,
+arms, armor and gold.  As was always his wont in his
+after life, to think was to act.
+
+"With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull
+out his eyes with red hot tongs, we might look farther
+and fare worse, mates, in search of a chief," spoke Red
+Shandy, eyeing his fellows, "for verily any man, be he
+but a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be
+fit to command us."
+
+"But what be the duties?" said he whom they called
+Peter the Hermit.
+
+"To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to
+protect the poor and the weak, to lay down your lives
+in defence of woman, and to prey upon rich Englishmen
+and harass the King of England."
+
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith ap-
+pealed to the ruffians so strongly that they would have
+subscribed to anything, even daily mass, and a bath,
+had that been necessary to admit them to the service
+of Norman of Torn.
+
+"Aye, aye!" they cried.  "We be your men indeed."
+
+"Wait," said Norman of Torn, "there is more.  You
+are to obey my every command on pain of instant death,
+and one-half of all your gains are to be mine.  On my
+side I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mounts
+and armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and
+fight for and with you with a sword arm which you
+know to be no mean protector.  Are you satisfied?"
+
+"That we are," and "Long live Norman of Torn,"
+and "Here's to the chief of the Torns" signified the
+ready assent of the burly cut-throats.
+
+"Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and
+this token," pursued Norman of Torn catching up a
+crucifix from the priest's table.
+
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which
+grew in a few years to number a thousand men, and
+which defied a king's army and helped to make Simon
+de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+
+Almost immediately commenced that series of out-
+law acts upon neighboring barons, and chance members
+of the gentry who happened to be caught in the open
+by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of
+Torn with many pieces of gold and silver, and placed
+a price upon his head ere he had scarce turned eighteen.
+
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsi-
+bility for his acts he grimly evidenced by marking with
+a dagger's point upon the foreheads of those who fell
+before his own sword the initials NT.
+
+As his following and wealth increased he rebuilt and
+enlarged the grim Castle of Torn, and again dammed
+the little stream which had furnished the moat with
+water in bygone days.
+
+Through all the length and breadth of the country
+that witnessed his activities his very name was wor-
+shipped by poor and lowly and oppressed.  The money
+he took from the King's tax gatherers he returned to
+the miserable peasants of the district, and once when
+Henry III sent a little expedition against him he sur-
+rounded and captured the entire force, and, stripping
+them, gave their clothing to the poor, and escorted
+them naked back to the very gates of London.
+
+By the time he was twenty Norman the Devil, as the
+King himself had dubbed him, was known by reputa-
+tion throughout all England, though no man had seen
+his face and lived, other than his friends and followers.  
+He bad become a power to reckon with in the fast
+culminating quarrel between King Henry and his for-
+eign favorites on one side, and the Saxon and Norman
+barons on the other.
+
+Neither side knew which way his power might be
+turned, for Norman of Torn had preyed almost equally
+upon royalist and insurgent.  Personally, he had decided
+to join neither party, but to take advantage of the tur-
+moil of the times to prey without partiality upon both.
+
+
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home
+with his five filthy ragged cut-throats on the day of his
+first meeting with them, the old man of Torn stood
+watching the little party from one of the small towers
+of the barbican.
+
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded
+the horn which hung at his side in mimicry of the
+custom of the times.
+
+"What ho, without there!" challenged the old man
+entering grimly into the spirit of the play.
+
+"'Tis Sir Norman of Torn," spoke up Red Shandy,
+"with his great host of noble knights and men-at-arms
+and squires and lackeys and sumpter beasts.  Open in
+the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn."
+
+"What means this, my son?" said the old man as
+Norman of Torn dismounted within the ballium.
+
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, con-
+cluding with, "These, then, be my men, father; and
+together we shall fare forth upon the highways and
+into the byways of England, to collect from the rich
+English pigs that living which you have ever taught me
+was owing us."
+
+"'Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have
+it; together we shall ride out, and where we ride a
+trail of blood shall mark our way.
+
+"From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Nor-
+man of Torn shall grow in the land, until even the King
+shall tremble when he hears it, and shall hate and
+loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe
+him.
+
+"All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon
+and Norman shall never dry upon your blade."
+
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate
+of the castle after this outbreak, Shandy, turning to
+Norman of Torn, with a wide grin, said:
+
+"By the Pope's hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth
+the English.  There should be great riding after such as
+he."
+
+"Ye ride after ME, varlet," cried Norman of Torn, "an'
+lest ye should forget again so soon who be thy master,
+take that, as a reminder," and he struck the red giant
+full upon the mouth with his clenched fist--so that the
+fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and
+in a towering rage.  As he rushed, bull-like, toward
+Norman of Torn, the latter made no move to draw;
+he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold,
+level gaze; his head held high, haughty face marked
+by an arrogant sneer of contempt.
+
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a
+sheepish smile overspread his countenance and going
+upon one knee he took the hand of Norman of Torn and
+kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight might
+have kissed his king's hand in proof of his love and
+fealty.  There was a certain rude, though chivalrous
+grandeur in the act; and it marked not only the begin-
+ning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of
+Shandy toward his young master, but was prophetic of
+the attitude which Norman of Torn was to inspire in
+all the men who served him during the long years that
+saw thousands pass the barbicans of Torn to crave a
+position beneath his grim banner.
+
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his
+brother, One Eye Kanty, and Peter the Hermit knelt
+before their young lord and kissed his hand.  From the
+Great Court beyond a little, grim, gray, old man had
+watched this scene, a slight smile upon his old, mali-
+cious face.
+
+"'Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams," he
+muttered.  "'S death, but he be more a king than Henry
+himself.  God speed the day of his coronation, when,
+before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a black
+cap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath
+his feet the platform of a wooden gibbet for a throne."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+IT WAS a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Nor-
+man of Torn rode alone down the narrow trail that led
+to the pretty cottage with which he had replaced the
+hut of his old friend Father Claude.
+
+As was his custom he rode with lowered visor, and
+nowhere upon his person or upon the trappings of his
+horse were sign or insignia of rank or house.  More
+powerful and richer than many nobles of the court he
+was without rank or other title than that of outlaw and
+he seemed to assume what in reality he held in little
+esteem.
+
+He wore armor because his old guardian bad urged
+him to do so, and not because he craved the protection
+it afforded.  And for the same cause he rode always
+with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon
+the old man to explain the reason which necessitated
+this precaution.
+
+"It is enough that I tell you, my son," the old fellow
+was wont to say, "that for your own good as well as
+mine you must not show your face to your enemies
+until I so direct.  The time will come and soon now,
+I hope, when you shall uncover your countenance to
+all England."
+
+The young man gave the matter but little thought,
+usually passing it off as the foolish whim of an old
+dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
+
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity
+that day, loomed a very different Torn from that which
+he had approached sixteen years before, when, as a
+little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows
+of the night, perched upon a great horse behind the
+little old woman, whose metamorphosis to the little grim,
+gray, old man of Torn their advent to the castle had
+marked.
+
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and
+more imposing than ever in the most resplendent days
+of its past grandeur.  The original keep was there with
+its huge buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen
+foot walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted
+chambers, lighted by embrasures which, mere slits in the
+outer periphery of the walls, spread to larger dimen-
+sions within, some even attaining the area of small
+triangular chambers.
+
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely en-
+circled three sides of the castle, running between the
+inner and outer walls, which were set at intervals with
+small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire
+from long bows, cross bows and javelins might be di-
+rected against a scaling party.
+
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a
+high precipice, which natural protection rendered tow-
+ers unnecessary upon this side.
+
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the
+west and from it ran the tortuous and rocky trail, down
+through the mountains toward the valley below.  The
+aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged
+beauty.  A short stretch of barren downs in the fore-
+ground only sparsely studded with an occasional gnarled
+oak gave an unobstructed view of broad and lovely
+meadow-land through which wound a sparkling tribu-
+tary of the Trent.
+
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one
+piercing the north wall and one the east.  All three
+gates were strongly fortified with towered and but-
+tressed barbicans which must be taken before the main
+gates could be reached.  Each barbican was portcullised,
+while the inner gates were similarly safeguarded in
+addition to the drawbridges which, spanning the moat
+when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of
+an enemy, effectually stopping his advance.
+
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient
+keep under the direction of Norman of Torn and the
+grim, old man whom he called father, were of the Nor-
+man type of architecture, the windows were larger, the
+carving more elaborate, the rooms lighter and more
+spacious.
+
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town,
+for, with his ten hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of
+Torn required many squires, lackeys, cooks, scullions,
+armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to care
+for the wants of his little army.
+
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred
+sumpter beasts, were quartered in the great stables,
+while the east court was alive with cows, oxen, goats,
+sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen
+were daily visitors to the grim pile, fetching provender
+for man and beast from the neighboring farm lands of
+the poor Saxon peasants to whom Norman of Torn paid
+good gold for their crops.
+
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the
+proud barons who owned the land they tilled, were for-
+bidden by royal edict to sell or give a pennysworth of
+provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of death,
+but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regu-
+larly and always returned full laden, and though the
+husbandmen told sad tales to their overlords of the
+awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he seized
+upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their
+cheeks as they spoke and the Devil's gold in their pock-
+ets.
+
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the
+more, the peasants' love for him increased.  Them he
+never injured; their fences, their stock, their crops, their
+wives and daughters were safe from molestation even
+though the neighboring castle of their lord might be
+sacked from the wine cellar to the ramparts of the
+loftiest tower.  Nor did anyone dare ride rough shod
+over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled.  A
+dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Der-
+by hills, and though the barons would much rather
+have had all the rest than he, the peasants worshipped
+him as a deliverer from the lowborn murderers who had
+been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose
+account the women of the huts and cottages had never
+been safe.
+
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had
+spoken with him, but they loved his name and his
+prowess and in secret they prayed for him to their
+ancient god Wodin and the lesser gods of the forest
+and the meadow and the chase, for though they were
+confessed Christians, still in the hearts of many beat
+a faint echo of the old superstitions of their ancestors;
+and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to
+Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the
+safe side with the others, in case they did happen to
+exist.
+
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, supersti-
+tious people, they were; accustomed for generations to
+the heel of first one invader and then another and in
+the interims, when there were any, the heels of their
+feudal lords and their rapacious monarchs.
+
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the
+Outlaw of Torn, for since their fierce Saxon ancestors
+had come, themselves as conquerors, to England no
+other hand had ever been raised to shield them from
+oppression.
+
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen
+Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he
+called father had never agreed.  The latter was for
+carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but
+the young man would neither listen to it, nor allow any
+who rode out from Torn to molest the lowly.  A ragged
+tunic was a surer defence against this wild horde than
+a stout lance or an emblazoned shield.
+
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty
+castle to visit Father Claude, the sunlight playing on his
+clanking armor and glancing from the copper boss of
+his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen kneel-
+ing uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not
+so remarkable after all.
+
+Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed
+his armor and lay back moodily upon a bench with his
+back against a wall and his strong, lithe legs stretched
+out before him.
+
+"What ails you, my son?" asked the priest, "that
+you look so disconsolate on this beautiful day?"
+
+"I do not know, Father," replied Norman of Torn,
+"unless it be that I am asking myself the question,
+'What it is all for?' Why did my father train me ever
+to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there is
+plenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good
+may all my stolen wealth avail me if I may not enter
+the haunts of men to spend it? Should I stick my head
+into London town it would doubtless stay there, held
+by a hempen necklace.
+
+"What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry?
+They have quarrel enough with me it is true, but, nath-
+less, I do not know why I should have hated them so
+before I was old enough to know how rotten they really
+are.  So it seems to me that I am but the instrument
+of an old man's spite, not even knowing the grievance
+to the avenging of which my life has been dedicated
+by another.
+
+"And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt
+much that the nameless old man of Torn is my father,
+so little do I favor him, and never in all my life have
+I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt a caress,
+even as a little child.  What think you, Father Claude?"
+
+"I have thought much of it, my son," answered the
+priest.  "It has ever been a sore puzzle to me, and I
+have my suspicions, which I have held for years, but
+which even the thought of so frightens me that I shud-
+der to speculate upon the consequences of voicing
+them aloud.  Norman of Torn, if you are not the son of
+the old man you call father may God forfend that Eng-
+land ever guesses your true parentage.  More than this
+I dare not say except that as you value your peace of
+mind and your life, keep your visor down and keep
+out of the clutches of your enemies."
+
+"Then you know why I should keep my visor down?"
+
+"I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have
+seen another whom you resemble."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion
+from without; the sound of horses' hoofs, the cries of
+men and the clash of arms.  In an instant both men
+were at the tiny unglazed window.  Before them on the
+highroad five knights in armor were now engaged in
+furious battle with a party of ten or a dozen other steel-
+clad warriors, while crouching breathless on her palfry
+a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants.
+
+Presently one of the knights detached himself from
+the melee and rode to her side with some word of com-
+mand, at the same time grasping roughly at her bridle
+rein.  The girl raised her riding whip and struck repeat-
+edly but futilely against the iron headgear of her assail-
+ant while he swung his horse up the road, and, drag-
+ging her palfrey after him, galloped rapidly out of
+sight.
+
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of
+his unarmored condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back
+and spurred swiftly in the direction taken by the girl
+and her abductor.
+
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the
+usual heavy armor of his rider, soon brought the fugi-
+tives to view.  Scarce a mile had been covered ere the
+knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of
+Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
+
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredu-
+lity the knight reined in his horse, exclaiming as he
+did so, "Mon Dieu, Edward!"
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," cried Norman of Torn.
+
+"But, Your Highness," stammered the knight.
+
+"Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred
+other English pigs," cried Norman of Torn.
+
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the
+knight looked to see the rider draw rein, but like a
+black bolt the mighty Sir Mortimer struck the other
+horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled
+in the dust of the roadway.
+
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dis-
+mounted to give fair battle upon even terms.  Though
+handicapped by the weight of his armor the knight also
+had the advantage of its protection, so that the two
+fought furiously for several minutes without either gain-
+ing an advantage.
+
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of
+the road watching every move of the two contestants.  
+She made no effort to escape, but seemed riveted to
+the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she was
+beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the
+handsome giant who had espoused her cause.  As she
+looked upon her champion she saw a lithe, muscular,
+brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect fig-
+ure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, re-
+flected the clean, athletic life of the trained fighting
+man.
+
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty
+pride as the sword arm, displaying its mighty strength
+and skill in every move, played with the sweating,
+puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so
+futilely before him.  For all the din of clashing blades
+and rattling armor, neither of the contestants had in-
+flicted much damage, for the knight could neither force
+nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard of his
+unarmored foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in
+penetrating the other's armor.
+
+Finally by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of
+Torn drove his blade through the meshes of his adver-
+sary's mail, and the fellow with a cry of anguish sank
+limply to the ground.
+
+"Quick, Sir Knight!" cried the girl.  "Mount and flee;
+yonder come his fellows."
+
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direc-
+tion from which he had just come, there, racing toward
+him at full tilt, rode three steel-armored men on their
+mighty horses.
+
+"Ride, madam," cried Norman of Torn, "for fly I
+shall not, nor may I, alone, unarmored, and on foot
+hope more than to momentarily delay these three fel-
+lows, but in that time you should easily make your
+escape--their heavy burdened animals could never
+o'ertake your fleet palfrey."
+
+As he spoke he took note for the first time of the
+young woman.  That she was a lady of quality was
+evidenced not alone by the richness of her riding ap-
+parel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in
+her noble and haughty demeanor and the proud ex-
+pression of her beautiful face.
+
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed
+over the head of Norman of Torn he was without knowl-
+edge or experience in the ways of women, nor had he
+ever spoken with a female of quality or position.  No
+woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy,
+within his memory, ever known a mother.
+
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward
+women as it was toward men, except that he had sworn
+always to protect them.  Possibly in a way he looked
+up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of
+Torn looked up to anything: God, man or devil.  It
+being more his way to look down upon all creatures
+whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate
+had destined to alter the entire course of his life, Nor-
+man of Torn saw that she was beautiful, and that she
+was of that class against whom he had preyed for
+years with his band of outlaw cut-throats.  Then he
+turned once more to face her enemies with the strange
+inconsistency which had ever marked his methods.
+
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of
+her father's castle, but today he was joyously offering
+to sacrifice his life for her--had she been the daughter
+of a charcoal burner he would have done no less--it
+was enough that she was a woman and in need of pro-
+tection.
+
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and
+with fine disregard for fair play charged with couched
+spears the unarmored man on foot.  But as the leading
+knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried
+out in surprise and consternation:
+
+"Mon Dieu, le Prince!"  He wheeled his charging
+horse to one side.  His fellows, hearing his cry, followed
+his example, and the three of them dashed on down
+the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they
+had been keen to attack.
+
+"One would think they had met the devil," muttered
+Norman of Torn, looking after them in unfeigned aston-
+ishment.
+
+"What means it, lady?" he asked turning to the dam-
+sel, who had made no move to escape.
+
+"It means that your face is well known in your fath-
+er's realm, my Lord Prince," she replied.  "And the King's
+men have no desire to antagonize you even though
+they may understand as little as I why you should
+espouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort."
+
+"Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?"
+he asked.
+
+"An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord?"
+
+"I am not the Prince," said Norman of Torn.  "It is
+said that Edward is in France."
+
+"Right you are, sir,"    exclaimed the girl.  "I had not
+thought on that; but you be enough of his likeness that
+you might well deceive the Queen herself.  And you
+be of a bravery fit for a king's son.  Who are you then,
+Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death
+for Bertrade, daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester?"
+
+"Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King
+Henry?" queried Norman of Torn, his eyes narrowing
+to mere slits and face hardening.
+
+"That I be," replied the girl, "an' from your face I
+take it you have little love for a De Montfort," she
+added, smiling.
+
+"An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de
+Montfort?  Be you niece or daughter of the devil, yet
+still you be a woman, and I do not war against women.  
+Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to
+safety."
+
+"I was but now bound, under escort of five of my
+father's knights, to visit Mary, daughter of John de
+Stutevill of Derby."
+
+"I know the castle well," answered Norman of Torn,
+and the shadow of a grim smile played about his lips,
+for scarce sixty days had elapsed since he had reduced
+the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great baron.  
+"Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make
+haste you shall sup with your friend before dark."
+
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to
+retrace their steps down the road when he noticed the
+body of the dead knight lying where it had fallen.
+
+"Ride on," he called to Bertrade de Montfort, "I will
+join you in an instant."
+
+Again dismounting he returned to the side of his late
+adversary, and lifting the dead knight's visor drew upon
+the forehead with the point of his dagger the letters NT.
+
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his
+back was toward her and he knelt beside his fallen foe-
+man, and she did not see his act.  Brave daughter of a
+brave sire though she was, had she seen what he did
+her heart would have quailed within her and she would
+have fled in terror from the clutches of this scourge of
+England, whose mark she had seen on the dead fore-
+heads of a dozen of her father's knights and kinsmen.
+
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father
+Claude, and here Norman of Torn stopped to don his
+armor.  Now he rode once more with lowered visor,
+and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de Mont-
+fort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden,
+had excited his interest.
+
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had
+he been so close to a young and beautiful woman for
+so long a period of time, although he had often seen
+women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious
+and terrible attacks.  While stories were abroad of his
+vile treatment of women captives, there was no truth
+in them.  They were merely spread by his enemies to
+incite the people against him.  Never had Norman of
+Torn laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-
+throat band were under oath to respect and protect
+the sex, on penalty of death.
+
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face
+before him, something stirred in his heart which had
+been struggling for expression for years.  It was not love,
+nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for com-
+panionship of such as she, and such as she represented.  
+Norman of Torn could not have translated this feeling
+into words for he did not know, but it was the far faint
+cry of blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was
+mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals
+for other lions, but for his lioness.
+
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly
+she turned, saying:
+
+"You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my
+query.  Who be ye?"
+
+"I am Nor--" and then he stopped.  Always before
+he had answered that question with haughty pride.  
+Why should he hesitate, he thought.  Was it because
+he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the
+breast of this daughter of the aristocracy he despised?
+Did Norman of Torn fear to face the look of seem and
+repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in that lovely
+face?
+
+"I am from Normandy," he went on quietly.  "A
+gentleman of France."
+
+"But your  name?" she said peremptorily.  "Are you
+ashamed of your name?"
+
+"You may call me Roger," he answered.  "Roger de
+Conde."
+
+"Raise your visor, Roger de Conde," she commanded.
+"I do not take pleasure in riding with a suit of armor;
+I would see that there is a man within."
+
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and
+when he smiled thus, as he rarely did, he was good
+to look upon.
+
+"It is the first command I have obeyed since I
+turned sixteen, Bertrade de Montfort," he said.
+
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and
+gaiety of youth and health; and so the two rode on
+their journey talking and laughing as they might have
+been friends of long standing.
+
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her
+earlier in the day, attributing it to an attempt on the
+part of a certain baron, Peter of Colfax, to abduct her,
+his suit for her hand having been peremptorily and
+roughly denied by her father.
+
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words,
+and it is doubtless that the old reprobate who sued for
+his daughter's hand heard some unsavory truths from
+the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility
+by his rude and discourteous, though true and candid,
+speeches to the King.
+
+"This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to," growled
+Norman of Torn.  "And as you have refused his heart
+and hand, his head shall be yours for the asking.  You
+have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort."
+
+"Very well," she laughed, thinking it but the idle
+boasting so much indulged in in those days.  "You may
+bring me his head upon a golden dish, Roger de
+Conde."
+
+"And what reward does the knight earn who brings
+to the feet of his princess the head of her enemy?" he
+asked lightly.
+
+"What boon would the knight ask?"
+
+"That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your
+knight, of whatsoever calumnies may be heaped upon
+him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and believe in
+his honor and his loyalty."
+
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though some-
+thing seemed to tell her that this was more than play.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Sir Knight," she replied.  "And
+the boon once granted shall be always kept."
+
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman
+of Torn decided that he liked this girl and that he
+wished her friendship more than any other thing he
+knew of.  And wishing it, he determined to win it by
+any means that accorded with his standard of honor; an
+honor which in many respects was higher than that of
+the nobles of his time.
+
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the
+afternoon, and there Norman of Torn was graciously
+welcomed and urged to accept the Baron's hospitality
+over night.
+
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for
+the outlaw, and, when added to his new desire to be
+in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he made
+no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm
+welcome.
+
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was
+spread sat the entire household of the Baron, and here
+and there among the men were evidences of painful
+wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still
+wore his sword arm in a sling.
+
+"We have been through grievous times," said Sir
+John, noticing that his guest was glancing at the vari-
+ous evidences of conflict.  "That fiend, Norman the
+Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats besieged us
+for ten days, and then took the castle by storm and
+sacked it.  Life is no longer safe in England with the
+King spending his time and money with foreign fa-
+vorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his
+own barons, instead of insuring the peace and protec-
+tion which is the right of every Englishman at home.
+
+"But," he continued, "this outlaw devil will come to
+the end of a short halter when once our civil strife is
+settled, for the barons themselves have decided upon
+an expedition against him, if the King will not subdue
+him."
+
+"An' he may send the barons naked home as he did
+the King's soldiers," laughed Bertrade de Montfort.  
+"I should like to see this fellow; what may he look
+like--from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and
+many of your men-at-arms there should be no few
+here but have met him."
+
+"Not once did he raise his visor while he was among
+us," replied the Baron, "but there are those who claim
+they had a brief glimpse of him and that he is of
+horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and
+having one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his
+forehead to his chin."
+
+"A fearful apparition," murmured Norman of Torn.  
+"No wonder he keeps his helm closed."
+
+"But such a swordsman," spoke up a son of De Stute-
+vill.  "Never in all the world was there such sword
+play as I saw that day in the courtyard."
+
+"I, too, have seen some wonderful sword play," said
+Bertrade de Montfort, "and that today.  O he!" she
+cried, laughing gleefully, "verily do I believe I have
+captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight,
+who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er
+saw man fight before, and he rode with his visor down
+until I chid him for it."
+
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed,
+and of all the company he most enjoyed the joke.
+
+"An' speaking of the Devil," said the Baron, "how
+think you he will side should the King eventually force
+war upon the barons? With his thousand hell-hounds
+the fate of England might well he in the palm of his
+bloody hand."
+
+"He loves neither King nor baron," spoke Mary de
+Stutevill, "and I rather lean to the thought that he
+will serve neither, but rather plunder the castles of
+both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be absent
+at war."
+
+"It be more to his liking to come while the master
+be home to welcome him," said De Stutevill, ruthfully.  
+"But yet I am always in fear for the safety of my wife
+and daughters when I be away from Derby for any
+time.  May the good God soon deliver England from
+this Devil of Torn."
+
+"I think you may have no need of fear on that score,"
+spoke Mary, "for Norman of Torn offered no violence
+to any woman within the wall of Stutevill, and when
+one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was
+the great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such
+a blow with his mailed hand as to crack the ruffian's
+helm, saying at the time, 'Know you, fellow, Norman
+of Torn does not war upon women?'"
+
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects
+and Norman of Torn heard no more of himself during
+that evening.
+
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to
+three days, and then, on the third day, as he sat with
+Bertrade de Montfort in an embrasure of the south
+tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of the
+necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to
+remain.
+
+"To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort," he said
+boldly, "I would forego any other pleasure, and endure
+any privation, or face any danger, but there are others
+who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me
+away from you.  You shall see me again, and at the
+castle of your father, Simon de Montfort, in Leicester.  
+Provided," he added, "that you will welcome me there."
+
+"I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be,
+Roger de Conde," replied the girl.
+
+"Remember that promise," he said smiling.  "Some
+day you may be glad to repudiate it."
+
+"Never," she insisted, and a light that shone in her
+eyes as she said it would have meant much to a man
+better versed in the ways of women than was Norman
+of Torn.
+
+"I hope not," he said gravely.  "I cannot tell you,
+being but poorly trained in courtly ways, what I
+should like to tell you, that you might know how much
+your friendship means to me.  Goodbye, Bertrade de
+Montfort," and he bent to one knee, as he raised her
+fingers to his lips.
+
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward
+the highroad a few minutes later on his way back to
+Torn, he turned for one last look at the castle and there
+in an embrasure in the south tower stood a young
+woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as
+though by sudden impulse, threw a kiss after the de-
+parting knight, only to disappear from the embrasure
+with the act.
+
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in
+the hills of Derby he had much food for thought upon
+the way.  Never till now had he realized what might
+lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of
+bitterness toward the hard old man whom he called
+father, and whose teachings from the boy's earliest
+childhood had guided him in the ways that had out him
+off completely from the society of other men, except
+the wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers
+that rode beneath the grisly banner of the young chief
+of Torn.
+
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that
+it was the girl who had come into his life  that caused
+him for the first time to feel shame for his past deeds.  
+He did not know the meaning of love, and  so he could
+not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+And another thought which now filled his mind was
+the fact of his strange likeness to the Crown Prince of
+England.  This, together with the words of Father
+Claude, puzzled him sorely.  What might it mean? Was
+it a heinous offence to own an accidental likeness to
+a king's son?
+
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that
+he rode always with closed helm he was for the first
+time anxious himself to hide his face from the sight of
+men.  Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from
+some inward impulse which he did not attempt to
+fathom.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+AS Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De
+Stutevill, Father Claude dismounted from his sleek
+donkey within the ballium of Torn.  The austere strong-
+hold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and un-
+savory reputation, always extended a warm welcome to
+the kindly, genial priest; not alone because of the deep
+friendship which the master of Torn felt for the good
+father, but through the personal charm, and lovable-
+ness of the holy man's nature, which shone alike on
+saint and sinner.
+
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with
+the youthful Norman, during the period that the boy's
+character was most amenable to strong impressions,
+that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many re-
+spects pure and lofty.  It was this same influence,
+though, which won for Father Claude his only enemy
+in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose sole aim
+in life seemed to have been to smother every finer
+instinct of chivalry and manhood in the boy, to whose
+training he had devoted the past nineteen years of
+his life.
+
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey--
+fat people do not "dismount"--a half dozen young
+squires ran forward to assist him, and to lead the animal
+to the stables.
+
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers
+by name, asking a question here, passing a merry joke
+there with the ease and familiarity that bespoke mu-
+tual affection and old acquaintance.
+
+As he passed in through the great gate the men-at-
+arms threw him laughing, though respectful, welcomes
+and within the great court, beautified with smooth
+lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues and
+small shrubs and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red
+Shandy, now the principal lieutenant of Norman of
+Torn.
+
+"Good morrow, Saint Claude!" cried the burly ruf-
+fian.  "Hast come to save our souls, or damn us? What
+manner of sacrilege have we committed now, or have
+we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come
+to scold, or praise?"
+
+"Neither, thou unregenerate villain," cried the priest,
+laughing.  "Though methinks ye merit chiding for the
+grievous poor courtesy with which thou didst treat the
+great Bishop of Norwich the past week."
+
+"Tut, tut, Father," replied Red Shandy.  "We did but
+aid him to adhere more closely to the injunctions and
+precepts of Him whose servant and disciple he claims
+to be.  Were it not better for an Archbishop of His
+Church to walk in humility and poverty among His
+people, than to be ever surrounded with the tempta-
+tions of fine clothing, jewels and much gold, to say
+nothing of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets
+of wine?"
+
+"I warrant his temptations were less by at least as
+many runlets of wine as may be borne by two sumpter
+beasts when thou, red robber, had finished with him,"
+exclaimed Father Claude.
+
+"Yes, Father," laughed the great fellow, "for the sake
+of Holy Church I did indeed confiscate that tempta-
+tion completely, and if you must needs have proof in
+order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now
+and you shall sample the excellent discrimination which
+the Bishop of Norwich displays in the selection of
+his temptations."
+
+"They tell me you left the great man quite destitute
+of finery, Red Shandy, " continued Father Claude, as
+he locked his arm in that of the outlaw and proceeded
+toward the castle.
+
+"One garment was all that Norman of Torn would
+permit him, and as the sun was hot overhead he se-
+lected for the Bishop a bassinet for that single article
+of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays
+of old sol.  Then fearing that it might be stolen from
+him by some vandals of the road he had One Eye
+Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so that it
+could not be removed by other than a smithy, and
+thus, strapped face to tail upon a donkey, he sent the
+great Bishop of Norwich rattling down the dusty road
+with his head, at least, protected from the idle gaze
+of whomsoever he might chance to meet.  Forty stripes
+he gave to each of the Bishop's retinue for being
+abroad in bad company; but come, here we are where
+you shall have the wine as proof of my tale."
+
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary the
+little old man of Torn entered.  He spoke to Father
+Claude in a surly tone, asking him if he knew aught
+of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+
+"We have seen nothing of him since, some three
+days gone, he rode out in the direction of your cottage,"
+he concluded.
+
+"Why, yes," said the priest, "I saw him that day.  He
+had an adventure with several knights from the castle
+of Peter of Colfax, from whom he rescued a damsel
+whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to
+be of the house of Montfort.  Together they rode north,
+but thy son did not say whither or for what purpose.  
+His only remark, as he donned his armor, while the
+girl waited without, was that I should now behold the
+falcon guarding the dove.  Hast he not returned?"
+
+"No," said the old man, "and doubtless his adven-
+ture is of a nature in line with thy puerile and effemi-
+nate teachings.  Had he followed my training, without
+thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an iron-
+barred nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy
+damned English nobility.  An' thou leave him not alone
+he will soon be seeking service in the household of
+the King."
+
+"Where, perchance, he might be more at home than
+here," said the priest quietly.
+
+"Why say you that?" snapped the little old  man,  eye-
+ing Father Claude narrowly.
+
+"Oh," laughed the priest, "because he whose power
+and mien be even more kingly than the King's would
+rightly grace the royal palace," but he had not failed
+to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor
+did his off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+
+At this juncture a squire entered to say that Shandy's
+presence was required at the gates, and that worthy,
+with a sorrowing and regretful glance at the unemptied
+flagon, left the room.
+
+For a few moments the two men sat in meditative
+silence, which was presently broken by the old man of
+Torn.
+
+"Priest," he said, "thy ways with my son are, as you
+know, not to my liking.  It were needless that he should
+have wasted so much precious time from sword play
+to learn the useless art of letters.  Of what benefit may
+a knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms
+large before him.  It may be years and again it may
+be but months, but as sure as there be a devil in hell
+Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet.  And
+thou knowst it, and he too, as well as I. The things
+which thou hast taught him be above his station, and
+the hopes and ambitions they inspire will but make
+his end the bitterer for him.  Of late I have noted that
+he rides upon the highway with less enthusiasm than
+was his wont, but he has gone too far ever to go back
+now; nor is there where to go back to.  What has he
+ever been other than outcast and outlaw? What hopes
+could you have engendered in his breast greater than
+to be hated and feared among his blood enemies?"
+
+"I knowst not thy reasons, old man," replied the
+priest, "for devoting thy life to the ruining of his, and
+what I guess at be such as I dare not voice; but let us
+understand each other once and for all.  For all thou
+dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of
+his nature, I have done and shall continue to do all in
+my power to controvert.  As thou hast been his bad
+angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and when all
+is said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the
+King's gibbet, as I only too well fear he must, there
+will be more to mourn his loss than there be to curse
+him.
+
+"His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so
+too were the friends and followers of our Dear Lord
+Jesus; so that shall be more greatly to his honor than
+had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+
+"Women have never been his prey; that also will be
+spoken of to his honor when he is gone, and that he
+has been cruel to men will be forgotten in the greater
+glory of his mercy to the weak.
+
+"Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the
+natural bent of a cruel and degraded mind, I know not;
+but if any be curst because of the Outlaw of Torn it
+will be thou--I had almost said, unnatural father; but
+I do not believe a single drop of thy debased blood
+flows in the veins of him thou callest son."
+
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless through-
+out this indictment, his face, somewhat pale, was drawn
+into lines of malevolent hatred and rage, but he per-
+mitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+
+"Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite
+clear," he said bitterly, "but I be glad to know just how
+thou standeth.  In the past there has been peace be-
+tween us, though no love; now let us both understand
+that it be war and hate.  My life work is cut out for
+me. Others, like thyself, have stood in my path, yet
+today I am here, but where are they? Dost understand
+me, priest?" And the old man leaned far across the
+table so that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of
+venom, blazed but a few inches from those of the priest.
+
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+
+"I understand," he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage a loud knock
+sounded at the door, which immediately swung open
+without waiting the formality of permission.  Father
+Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of
+Torn, and his face lighted with a pleased smile of
+welcome.
+
+"Greetings, my son," said the priest.
+
+"And to thee, Father," replied the outlaw, "And what
+may be the news of Torn, I have been absent for several
+days; is all well at the castle?"
+
+"All be well at the castle," replied Father Claude,
+"if by that you mean have none been captured or
+hanged for their murders.  Ah, my boy, why wilt thou
+not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never
+been my way to scold or chide thee, yet always hath
+my heart ached for each crime laid at the door of
+Norman of Torn."
+
+"Come, come, Father," replied the outlaw, "what
+dost I that I have not good example for from the barons,
+and the King, and Holy Church.  Murder, theft, rapine!
+Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all
+perpetrated in the name of some of these?
+
+"Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the
+wolf, yet righteous for the wolf to tear the sheep? Me-
+thinks not.  Only do I collect from those who have more
+than they need, from my natural enemies; while they
+prey upon those who have naught.
+
+"Yet," and his manner suddenly changed, "I do not
+love it, Father.  That thou know.  I would that there
+might be some way out of it, but there is none.
+
+"If I told you why I wished it you would be sur-
+prised indeed, nor can I myself understand; but, of a
+verity, my greatest wish to be out of this life is due to
+the fact that I crave the association of those very ene-
+mies I have been taught to hate.  But it is too late,
+Father, there can be but one end and that the lower
+end of a hempen rope."
+
+"No, my son, there is another way, an honorable
+way," replied the good Father.  "In some foreign clime
+there be opportunities abundant for such as thee.  France
+offers a magnificent, future to such a soldier as Norman
+of Torn.  In the court of Louis you would take your
+place among the highest of the land.  You be rich and
+brave and handsome, nay do not raise your hand, you
+be all these and more, for you have learning far beyond
+the majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and
+a true chivalry of character.  With such wondrous gifts
+naught could bar your way to the highest pinnacles of
+power and glory, while here you have no future beyond
+the halter.  Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn?"
+
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he
+drew his hand across his eyes as though to brush away
+a vision.
+
+"There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in
+England for a time at least, though the picture you
+put is indeed wondrous alluring."
+
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend
+Mary de Stutevill was drawing to a close.  Three weeks
+had passed since Roger de Conde had ridden out
+from the portals of Stutevill and many times the hand-
+some young knight's name had been on the lips of his
+fair hostess and her fairer friend.
+
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gar-
+dens of the great court, their arms about each other's
+waists, pouring the last confidences into each other's
+ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return to
+Leicester.
+
+"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade,"
+said Mary.  "Wert my father here he would, I am sure,
+not permit thee to leave with only the small escort
+which we be able to give."
+
+"Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade, "five of thy fath-
+er's knights be ample protection for so short a journey.  
+By evening it will have been accomplished; and as
+the only one I fear in these parts received such a
+sound set back from Roger de Conde recently I do
+not think he will venture again to molest me."
+
+"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?" urged
+Mary.  "Only yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's
+men-at-arms came limping to us with the news of the
+awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his mas-
+ter's household.  He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst
+think of naught more horrible than to fall into his
+hands."
+
+"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very
+self that Norman of Torn was most courteous to thee
+when he sacked this, thy father's castle.  How be it
+thou so soon has changed thy mind?"
+
+"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but
+who knows what horrid freak his mind may take, and
+they do say that he be cruel beyond compare.  Again,
+forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's
+niece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn open-
+ly swears his hatred and his vengeance.  Oh, Bertrade,
+wait but for a day or so, I be sure my father must
+return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee
+instead of five."
+
+"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn,
+Mary? Thy reasoning is on a parity with thy fears,
+both have flown wide of the mark.
+
+"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian it were better
+that five knights were sacrificed than fifty, for either
+number would be but a mouthful to that horrid horde
+of unhung murderers.  No, Mary, I shall start tomorrow
+and your good knights shall return the following day
+with the best of word from me."
+
+"If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly.  
+"Indeed it were plain that thou be a De Montfort;
+that race whose historic bravery be second only to their
+historic stubbornness."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend
+upon the cheek.
+
+"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde
+again upon the highroad to protect me.  Then indeed
+shall I send back your five knights, for of a truth his
+blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I
+ere saw fight before."
+
+"Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's
+determination to leave on the morrow, "that should
+you meet the doughty Sir Roger all unarmed that still
+would you send back my father's knights."
+
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the
+warm blood mount to her cheek.
+
+"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.
+
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely en-
+joying the discomfiture of the admission the tell-tale
+flush proclaimed.
+
+"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind
+tended, Bertrade; but now I seest that I divined all
+too truly.  He be indeed good to look upon, but what
+knowest thou of him?"
+
+"Hush, Mary!" commanded Bertrade.  "Thou know
+not what thou sayest.  I would not wipe my feet upon
+him, I care naught whatever for him, and then--it
+has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill
+and no word hath he sent."
+
+"Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the
+wind?  My Lady would not wipe her feet upon him,
+but she be sore vexed that he has sent her no word.
+Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade."
+
+"I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade,
+stamping her sandaled foot, and with a toss of her
+pretty head she turned abruptly toward the castle.
+
+
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men
+sat at opposite sides of a little table.  The one, Peter
+of Colfax, was short and very stout.  His red, bloated
+face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner
+of his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large
+and flabby over his receding chin, indicated the base
+passions to which his life and been given.  His com-
+panion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit of
+armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom
+his guest might be.  It was the little armored man who
+was speaking.
+
+"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter,"
+he said, "that you must have my reasons? Let it go
+that my hate of Leicester be the passion which moves
+me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the maiden;
+give me ten knights and I will bring her to you."
+
+"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her
+father's castle?" asked Peter of Colfax.
+
+"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but
+I do know it, and, if thou wouldst have her, be quick,
+for we should ride out tonight that we may take our
+positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."
+
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might
+be a ruse of Leicester's to catch him in some trap.  He
+did not know his guest--the fellow might want the
+girl for himself and be taking this method of obtaining
+the necessary assistance to capture her.
+
+"Come," said the little, armored man irritably.  "I
+cannot bide here forever.  Make up thy mind; it be
+nothing to me other than my revenge, and if thou wilst
+not do it I shall hire the necessary ruffians and then
+not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."
+
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+
+"It is agreed," he said.  "The men shall ride out
+with you in half an hour.  Wait below, in the court-
+yard."
+
+When the little man had left the apartment Peter
+of Colfax summoned his squire whom he had send to
+him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
+
+"Guy," said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye
+made a rare fizzle of a piece of business some weeks
+ago.  Ye wot of which I speak?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+"It chances that on the morrow ye may have oppor-
+tunity to retrieve thy blunder.  Ride out with ten men
+where the stranger who waits in the courtyard below
+shall lead ye, and come not back without that which
+ye lost to a handful of men before.  You understand?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord!"
+
+"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath of-
+fered to assist us.  At the first sign of treachery fall
+upon him with all thy men and slay him.  Tell the others
+that these be my orders."
+
+"Yes, My Lord.  When do we ride?"
+
+"At once.  You may go."
+
+
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen
+to return to her father's castle dawned gray and threat-
+ening.  In vain did Mary de Stutevill plead with her
+friend to give up the idea of setting out upon such a
+dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade
+de Montfort was firm.
+
+"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and
+it is not lightly that even I, his daughter, fail in obedi-
+ence to Simon de Montfort.  I shall have enough to
+account for as it be.  Do not urge me to add even one
+more day to my excuses.  And again, perchance, my
+mother and my father may be sore distressed by my
+continued absence.  No, Mary, I must ride today." And
+so she did, with the five knights that could be spared
+from the castle's defence.
+
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold driz-
+zle set in, so that they were indeed a sorry company
+that splashed along the muddy road, wrapped in mantle
+and surcoat.  As they proceeded the rain and wind in-
+creased in volume, until it was being driven into their
+faces in such blinding gusts that they must needs keep
+their eyes closed and trust to the instincts of their
+mounts.
+
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished.  
+They were winding across a little hollow toward a low
+ridge covered with dense forest, into the somber shad-
+ows of which the road wound.  There was a glint of
+armor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buf-
+feted eyes of the riders saw it not.  On they came,
+their patient horses plodding slowly through the sticky
+road and hurtling storm.
+
+Now they were half way up the ridge's side.  There
+was a movement in the dark shadows of the grim wood,
+and then without cry or warning a band of steel-clad
+horsemen broke forth with couched spears.  Charging
+at full run down upon them they overthrew three of
+the girl's escort before a blow could be struck in her
+defense.  Her two remaining guardians wheeled to meet
+the return attack, and nobly did they acquit them-
+selves, for it took the entire eleven who were pitted
+against them to overcome and slay the two.
+
+In the melee none had noticed the girl, but presently
+one of her assailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered
+that she had put spurs to her palfrey and escaped.  
+Calling to his companions he set out at a rapid pace
+in pursuit.
+
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain,
+Bertrade de Montfort urged her mount into a wild run,
+for she had recognized the arms of Peter of Colfax on
+the shields of several of the attacking party.
+
+Nobly the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed.  
+The great beasts of her pursuers, bred in Normandy
+and Flanders, might have been tethered in their stalls
+for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying
+white steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning
+flies through the clouds.
+
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray
+man's foresight Bertrade de Montfort would have made
+good her escape that day.  As it was, however, her fleet
+mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere, in
+the midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope
+stretched across the roadway, between two trees.
+
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by
+the stout rope, Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far
+before him, where she lay, a little, limp bedraggled
+figure, in the mud of the road.
+
+There they found her.  The little, grim, gray man
+did not even dismount, so indifferent was he to her
+fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of Colfax, it was
+all the same to him.  In either event his purpose would
+be accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no
+longer lure Norman of Torn from the path he had laid
+out for him.
+
+That such an eventuality threatened he knew from
+one Spizo the Spaniard, the single traitor in the service
+of Norman of Torn, whose mean aid the little grim,
+gray man had purchased since many months to spy
+upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw.
+
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless
+form of Bertrade de Montfort and placed it across the
+saddle before one of their number.
+
+"Come," said the man called Guy, "if there be life
+left in her we must hasten to Sir Peter before it be
+extinct."
+
+"I leave ye here," said the little old man.  "My part
+of the business is done."
+
+And so he sat watching them until they had disap-
+peared in the forest toward the castle of Colfax.
+
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter
+where lay the five knights of Sir John de Stutevill.  
+Three were already dead, the other two, sorely but not
+mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came
+abreast of them and with his long sword silently finished
+the two wounded men.  Then, drawing his dagger, he
+made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of the
+five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
+
+"And if one fact be not enough," he muttered, "that
+mark upon the dead will quite effectually stop further
+intercourse between the houses of Torn and Leicester."
+
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious
+at the head of a dozen of his father's knights on the
+road to Stutevill.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the
+Earl and Princess Eleanor, his wife, filled with grave
+apprehensions, had posted their oldest son off to the
+castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+
+With the wind and rain at their backs the little party
+rode rapidly along the muddy road, until late in the
+afternoon they came upon a white palfrey standing
+huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward
+the driving storm.
+
+"By God," cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own
+Abdul.  There be something wrong here indeed." But
+a rapid search of the vicinity, and loud calls brought
+no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, so they
+pressed on toward Stutevill.
+
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white
+palfrey had been found they came upon the dead bodies
+of the five knights who had accompanied Bertrade from
+Stutevill.
+
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies
+of the fallen men.  The arms upon shield and helm con-
+firmed his first fear that these had been Bertrade's
+escort from Stutevill.
+
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any
+of the knights there stared up into his face from the
+foreheads of the dead men the dreaded sign, NT,
+scratched there with a dagger's point.
+
+"The curse of God be on him!" cried De Montfort.  
+"It be the work of the Devil of Torn, my gentlemen,"
+he said to his followers.  "Come, we need no further
+guide to our destination." And, remounting, the little
+party spurred back toward Torn.
+
+
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses she
+was in bed in a strange room, and above her bent an
+old woman; a repulsive, toothless old woman, whose
+smile was but a fangless snarl.
+
+"Ho, ho!" she croaked.  "The bride waketh.  I told My
+Lord that it would take more than a tumble in the mud
+to kill a De Montfort.  Come, come, now, arise and
+clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarce
+restrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms.  Below
+in the great hall he paces to and fro, the red blood
+mantling his beauteous countenance."
+
+"Who be ye?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind
+still dazed from the effects of her fall.  "Where am I?"
+and then, "O, Mon Dieu!" as she remembered the
+events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon
+the shields of the attacking party.  In an instant she
+realized the horror of her predicament; its utter hope-
+lessness.
+
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in
+the favor of the King; and the fact that she was his
+niece would scarce aid her cause with Henry, for it was
+more than counter-balanced by the fact that she was
+the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and
+hated.
+
+In the corridor without she heard the heavy tramp
+of approaching feet, and presently a man's voice at the
+door.
+
+"Within there, Coll! Hast the damsel awakened from
+her swoon?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Peter," replied the old woman, "I was but
+just urging her to arise and clothe herself, saying that
+you awaited her below."
+
+"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade," called the man,
+"no harm will be done thee if thou showest the good
+sense I give thee credit for.  I will await thee in the
+great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here."
+
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than
+in fear, but the tones of her answer were calm and
+level.
+
+"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon," and rising,
+she hastened to dress, while the receding footsteps of the
+Baron diminished down the stairway which led from the
+tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conver-
+sation, but the girl would not talk.  Her whole mind was
+devoted to weighing each possible means of escape.
+
+A half hour later she entered the great hall of the
+castle of Peter of Colfax.  The room was empty.  Little
+change had been wrought in the apartment since the
+days of Ethelwolf.  As the girl's glance ranged the hall
+in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, un-
+glazed windows beyond which lay freedom.  Would she
+ever again breathe God's pure air outside these stifling
+walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black as the inky
+rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a
+few shades less begrimed, where repairs had been
+made.  As her eyes fell upon the trophies of war and chase
+which hung there her lips curled in scorn, for she
+knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather
+than by the personal prowess of the present master of
+Colfax.
+
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flicker-
+ing light from a small wood fire upon one of the two
+great hearths seemed rather to accentuate the dim shad-
+ows of the place.
+
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a mas-
+sive oak table, blackened by age and hard usage to the
+color of the beams above, dented and nicked by the
+pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords
+when wild and lusty brawlers had been moved to ap-
+plause by the lay of some wandering minstrel, or the
+sterner call of their mighty chieftains for the oath of
+fealty.
+
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and
+the few rude, heavy chairs which completed the rough
+furnishings of this rough room, and she shuddered.  One
+little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor
+which was littered with a miscellany of rushes inter-
+spread with such bones and scraps of food as the dogs
+had rejected or overlooked.
+
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de
+Montfort give but passing heed; she looked for the
+man she sought that she might quickly have the en-
+counter over and learn what fate the future held in
+store for her.
+
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was
+quite empty, and that in addition to the main doorway
+at the lower  end of the apartment, where she had en-
+tered, there was but one other door leading from the
+hall.  This was at one side, and as it stood ajar she
+could see that it led into a small room, apparently a
+bedchamber.
+
+As she stood facing the main doorway a panel opened
+quietly behind her and directly back of where the
+thrones had stood in past times.  From the black mouth
+of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax.  Silently he closed
+the panel after him, and with soundless steps advanced
+toward the girl.  At the edge of the raised dais he
+halted, rattling his sword to attract her attention.
+
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness
+and mystery of his appearance he failed signally, for
+she did not even turn her head as she said:
+
+"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for
+this base treachery against thy neighbor's daughter and
+thy sovereign's niece?"
+
+"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent,"
+replied the pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning
+tone, "love must still find its way; and so thy gallant
+swain hath dared the wrath of thy great father and
+majestic uncle, and lays  his heart at thy feet, O beau-
+teous Bertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been
+hungering after it since we didst first avow our love
+to thy hard hearted sire.  See I kneel to thee, my dove!"
+And with cracking joints the fat baron plumped down
+upon his marrow bones.
+
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty
+countenance relaxed into a sneering smile.
+
+"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter," she said, "and, at that,
+the worst species of fool--an ancient fool.  It is useless
+to pursue thy cause, for I will have none of thee.  Let
+me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word of what
+hath transpired shall ever pass my lips.  But let me go,
+'tis all I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot
+give what you would have.  I do not love you, nor ever
+can I."
+
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to
+mottle his already ruby visage to a semblance of purple,
+and now, as he attempted to rise with dignity he was
+still further covered with confusion by the fact that his
+huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all
+fours before he could rise, so that he got up much after
+the manner of a cow, raising his stern high in air
+in a most ludicrous fashion.  As he gained his feet he
+saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter
+on her face.
+
+"Return to thy chamber," he thundered.  "I will give
+thee until tomorrow to decide whether thou wilt ac-
+cept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or take another
+position in his household which will bar thee for all time
+from the society of thy kind."
+
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on
+her lips.
+
+"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown;
+to no debauched, degraded parody of a man.  And
+as for thy other rash threat, thou hast not the guts to
+put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for
+well ye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out
+thy foul heart with his own hand if he ever suspected
+thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daugh-
+ter." And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great
+hall, and mounted to her tower chamber in the ancient
+Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
+
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night
+and until late the following afternoon, when Peter of
+Colfax summoned his prisoner before him once more.  
+So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's
+fears that she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite
+equal to his dire threat, and so she had again been
+casting about for some means of escape or delay.
+
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the
+west tower of the castle, fully a hundred feet above the
+moat, which the single embrasure overlooked.  There
+was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.  
+The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars,
+and itself composed of mighty planks of the same wood,
+cross barred with iron.
+
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought
+Bertrade, she could barricade herself within and thus
+delay, at least, her impending fate in the hope that suc-
+cor might come from some source.  But her most subtle
+wiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a mo-
+ment, of her harpy jailer; and now that the final sum-
+mons had come she was beside herself for a lack of
+means to thwart her captor.
+
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung
+from the girdle of the old woman and this Bertrade
+determined to have.
+
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle
+she called upon the old woman to aid her, and as the hag
+bent her head close to the girl's body to see what was
+wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached quick-
+ly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath.  
+Quickly she sprang back from the old woman who, with
+a cry of anger and alarm, rushed upon her.
+
+"Back!" cried the girl.  "Stand back, old hag, or thou
+shalt feel the length of thine own blade."
+
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and
+blaspheming in a most horrible manner, at the same
+time calling for help.
+
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old
+woman to remain where she was, on pain of death, and
+quickly dropped the mighty bars into place.  Scarcely
+had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of
+Colfax with a dozen servants and men-at-arms were
+pounding loudly upon the outside.
+
+"What's wrong within, Coll," cried the Baron.
+
+"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is
+murdering me," shrieked the old woman.
+
+"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax," spoke
+Bertrade, "if you do not immediately send for my
+friends to conduct me from thy castle, for I will not step
+my foot from this room until I know that mine own
+people stand without."
+
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and
+coaxed, but all in vain.  So passed the afternoon, and
+as darkness settled upon the castle the Baron desisted
+from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner out.
+
+Within the little room Bertrade de Montfort sat upon
+a bench guarding her prisoner, from whom she did not
+dare move her eyes for a single second.  All that long
+night she sat thus, and when morning dawned it found
+her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon
+the hag.
+
+Early in the morning Peter of Colfax resumed his
+endeavors to persuade her to come out; he even ad-
+mitted defeat and promised her safe conduct to her
+father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to
+be fooled by his lying tongue.
+
+"Then will I starve you out," he cried at length.
+
+"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into
+thy foul hands," replied the girl.  "But thy old servant
+here will starve first, for she be very old and not so
+strong as I. Therefore how will it profit you to kill
+two and still be robbed of thy prey?"
+
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his
+fair prisoner would carry out her threat and so he set
+his men to work with cold chisels, axes and saws upon
+the huge door.
+
+For hours they labored upon that mighty work of
+defence, and it was late at night ere they made a little
+opening large enough to admit a hand and arm, but
+the first one intruded within the room to raise the
+bars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from
+its owner.  Thus the keen dagger in the girl's hand put
+an end to all hopes of entering without completely
+demolishing the door.
+
+To this work the men without then set themselves
+diligently while Peter of Colfax renewed his entreaties,
+through the small opening they had made.  Bertrade
+replied but once.
+
+"Seest thou this poniard?" she asked.  "When that
+door falls this point enters my heart.  There is nothing
+beyond that door, with thou, poltroon, to which death
+in this little chamber would not be preferable."
+
+As she spoke she turned toward the man she was
+addressing, for the first time during all those weary,
+hideous hours removing her glance from the old hag.  
+It was enough.  Silently, but with the quickness of a
+tigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-
+like paw grasping the wrist which held the dagger.
+
+"Quick, My Lord!" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."
+
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the
+tiny opening in the door and a second later four of
+his men rushed to the aid of the old woman.
+
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fin-
+gers, and at the Baron's bidding they dragged her to
+the great hall below.
+
+As his retainers left the room at his command Peter
+of Colfax strode back and forth upon the rushes which
+strewed the floor.  Finally he stopped before the girl
+standing rigid in the center of the room.
+
+"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Mont-
+fort?" he asked angrily.  "I have offered you your choice;
+to be the honored wife of Peter of Colfax, or, by force,
+his mistress.  The good priest waits without, what be
+your answer now?"
+
+"The same as it has been these past two days," she
+replied with haughty scorn.  "The same that it shall
+always be.  I will be neither wife nor mistress to a co-
+ward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man.  I would die,
+it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me.  
+You do not dare to touch me, you craven.  I, the daugh-
+ter of an earl, the niece of a king, wed to the warty toad,
+Peter of Colfax!"
+
+"Hold, chit!" cried the Baron, livid with rage.  "You
+have gone too far.  Enough of this; and you love me not
+now I shall learn you to love ere the sun rises." And with
+a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the arm, and
+dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of
+the room.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+FOR three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de
+Montfort and his sojourn at the castle of John de Stute-
+vill, Norman of Torn was busy with his wild horde in
+reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a royal-
+ist baron who had captured and hanged two of the out-
+law's fighting men; and never again after his meeting
+with the daughter of the chief of the barons did Nor-
+man of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their
+friends.
+
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the success-
+ful outcome of his expedition, the watch upon the
+tower reported the approach of a dozen armed knights.  
+Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn
+the mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to
+this inaccessible and unhospitable fortress; and he well
+knew that no party of a dozen knights would venture
+with hostile intent within the clutches of his great
+band of villains.
+
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was
+Henry de Montfort, oldest son of the Earl of Leicester,
+who had come under a flag of truce and would have
+speech with the master of Torn.
+
+"Admit them, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn,
+"I will speak with them here."
+
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered
+into his presence it found itself facing a mailed knight
+with drawn visor.
+
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity
+until he faced the outlaw.
+
+"Be ye Norman of Torn?" he asked.  And did he
+try to conceal the hatred and loathing which he felt,
+he was poorly successful.
+
+"They call me so," replied the visored knight.  "And
+what may bring a De Montfort after so many years to
+visit his old neighbor?"
+
+"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn," re-
+plied the young man.  "It is useless to waste words, and
+we cannot resort to arms, for you have us entirely in
+your power.  Name your price and it shall be paid, only
+be quick and let me hence with my sister."
+
+"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort?
+Your sister! What mean you?"
+
+"Yes, my sister Bertrade whom you stole upon the
+highroad two days since, after murdering the knights
+of John de Stutevill who were fetching her home from a
+visit upon the Baron's daughter.  We know that it was
+you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's
+mark."
+
+"Shandy!" roared Norman of Torn.  "WHAT MEANS THIS?
+Who has been upon the road, attacking women, in my
+absence? You were here and in charge during my visit
+to my Lord de Grey.  As you value your hide, Shandy,
+the truth!"
+
+"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest
+I have served you well, Norman of Torn; you should
+know my loyalty by this time and that never have I
+lied to you.  No man of yours has done this thing, nor is
+it the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your
+mark upon their dead that they might thus escape sus-
+picion, themselves."
+
+"Henry de Montfort," said Norman of Torn, turning
+to his visitor, "we of Torn bear no savory name, that
+I know full well, but no man may say that we un-
+sheath our swords against women.  Your sister is not
+here.  I give you the word of honor of Norman of Torn.  
+Is it not enough?"
+
+"They say you never lie," replied De Montfort.  "Would
+to God I knew who had done this thing, or which way
+to search for my sister."
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were
+in wild confusion, and it was with difficulty that he hid
+the fierce anxiety of his heart or his rage against the
+perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his whole
+being.
+
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his
+party scarce passed the drawbridge ere the castle of
+Torn was filled with hurrying men and the noise and
+uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+
+Some thirty minutes later five hundred iron clad horses
+carried their mailed riders beneath the portcullis of the
+grim pile, and Norman the Devil, riding at their head,
+spurred rapidly in the direction of the castle of Peter of
+Colfax.
+
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from
+Torn's buttressed gates, presented a picture of wild
+barbaric splendor.
+
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal
+from the ancient banded mail of the Saxon to the richly
+ornamented plate armor of Milan.  Gold and silver
+
+
+
+THE OUTLAW OF TORN
+
+and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate
+and shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the
+horses' head armor showed the rich loot which had fal-
+len to the portion of Norman of Torn's wild raiders.
+
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance
+points, and the gray banner of Torn, with the black
+falcon's wing, flew above each of the five companies.  
+The great linden wood shields of the men were cov-
+ered with gray leather and in the upper right hand
+corner of each was the black falcon's wing.  The sur-
+coats of the riders were also uniform, being of dark
+gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwith-
+standing the richness of the armor and the horse trap-
+pings there was a grim, gray warlike appearance to
+these wild companies that comported well with their
+reputation.
+
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every
+civilized country of Europe the great horde of Torn
+numbered in its ten companies serf and noble; Britain,
+Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot,
+Pict and Irish.
+
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf,
+with the gall marks of his brass collar still visible about
+his neck, rode shoulder to shoulder with the outlawed
+scion of a noble house.  The only requisites for admis-
+sion to the troop were willingness and ability to fight,
+and an oath to obey the laws made by Norman of
+Torn.
+
+The little army was divided into ten companies of
+one hundred men, each company captained by a fighter
+of proven worth and ability.
+
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James
+Flory led the first three companies, the remaining seven
+being under command of other seasoned veterans of a
+thousand fights.
+
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the
+always important post of chief armorer, while Peter the
+Hermit, the last of the five cut-throats whom Norman of
+Torn had bested that day, six years before, in the hut
+of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great
+castle of Torn, which post included also the vital func-
+tions of quartermaster and commissary.
+
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf
+and squire in the art of war, for it was ever necessary
+to fill the gaps made in the companies, due to their
+constant encounters upon the highroad and their bat-
+tles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they
+did not always come off unscathed, though usually vic-
+torious.
+
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman
+of Torn rode at the head of the cavalcade, which strung
+out behind him in a long column.  Above his gray steel
+armor a falcon's wing rose from his crest.  It was the
+insignia which always marked him to his men in the
+midst of battle.  Where it waved might always be found
+the fighting and the honors, and about it they were
+wont to rally.
+
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man,
+silent and taciturn; nursing his deep hatred in the depths
+of his malign brain.
+
+At the head of their respective companies rode the
+five captains: Red Shandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf;
+Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy; and Sieur Ralph de
+la Campnee, of France.
+
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morn-
+ing and early afternoon brought forth men, women
+and children to cheer and wave God-speed to them;
+but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn
+where the black falcon wing was known more by the
+ferocity of its name than by the kindly deeds of the
+great outlaw to the lowly of his neighborhood, they saw
+only closed and barred doors with an occasional fright-
+ened face peering from a tiny window.
+
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers
+of Colfax silhouetted against the starry sky.  Drawing his
+men into the shadows of the forest a half mile from
+the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy
+and some fifty men to a point as close as they could come
+without being observed.  Here they dismounted and Nor-
+man of Torn crept stealthily forward alone.
+
+Taking advantage of every cover he approached to the
+very shadows of the great gate without being detected.  
+In the castle a light shone dimly from the windows
+of the great hall, but no other sign of life was apparent.  
+To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the draw-
+bridge lowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate
+or upon the walls.
+
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since
+he was familiar with its internal plan, and so he knew
+that through the scullery he could reach a small ante-
+chamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
+
+And so it happened that as Peter of Colfax wheeled
+toward the door of the little room he stopped short in
+terror, for there before him stood a strange knight in
+armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword.  The girl
+saw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage
+overspread her face.
+
+"Draw!" commanded a low voice in English, "unless
+you prefer to pray, for you are about to die."
+
+"Who be ye, varlet?" cried the Baron.  "Ho, John!
+Ho, Guy! To the rescue, quick!" he shrieked, and
+drawing his sword he attempted to back quickly toward
+the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor
+was upon him and forcing him to fight ere he had taken
+three steps.
+
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night
+had not John and Guy and another of his henchmen
+rushed into the room with drawn swords.
+
+"Ware! Sir Knight," cried the girl, as she saw the
+three knaves rushing to the aid of their master.
+
+Turning to meet their assault the knight was forced
+to abandon the terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and
+again he had made for the doorway bent only on es-
+cape; but the girl had divined his intentions, and run-
+ning quickly to the entrance she turned the great lock
+and threw the key with all her might to the far corner
+of the hall.  In an instant she regretted her act, for she
+saw that where she might have reduced her rescuer's
+opponents by at least one she had now forced the
+cowardly Baron to remain, and nothing fights more
+fiercely than a cornered rat.
+
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the
+three retainers, and for an instant Bertrade de Mont-
+fort stood spell-bound by the exhibition of swordsman-
+ship she was witnessing.
+
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all
+at the same time the silent knight, though weighted by
+his heavy armor, forced them steadily back; his flashing
+blade seeming to weave a net of steel about them.  Sud-
+denly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped
+in the heart of one of his opponents, and as the man
+lunged to the floor it was flashing again close to the
+breasts of the two remaining men-at-arms.
+
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and
+then the girl's attention was called to the face of the
+horrified Baron; Peter of Colfax was moving--slowly and
+cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, toward the
+visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a
+sharp dagger.
+
+For an instant the girl stood frozen with horror, un-
+able to move a finger or to cry out; but only for an
+instant, and then, regaining control of her muscles, she
+stooped quickly and grasping a heavy foot-stool hurled
+it full at Peter of Colfax.
+
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the
+floor just as the knight's sword passed through the throat
+of his final antagonist.
+
+As the Baron fell he struck heavily upon a table
+which supported the only lighted cresset within the
+chamber.  In an instant all was darkness.  There was a
+rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats and
+then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
+
+"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?" asked
+a grave English voice out of the darkness.
+
+"Quite, Sir Knight," she replied, "and you?"
+
+"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the
+Baron?"
+
+"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and
+carried a thin long dagger in his hand.  Have a care,
+Sir Knight, he may even now be upon you."
+
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him mov-
+ing boldly about the room.  Soon he had found another
+lamp and made a light.  As its feeble rays slowly pene-
+trated the black gloom the girl saw the bodies of the
+three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and
+the visored knight; but Peter of Colfax was gone.
+
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time,
+but he only laughed a low, grim laugh.
+
+"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade," he said.
+
+"How know you my name?" she asked.  "Who may you
+be? I do not recognize your armor, and your breastplate
+bears no arms."
+
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her
+breast as it filled with the hope that her brave rescuer
+might be the same Roger de Conde who had saved her
+from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short
+weeks since.  Surely it was the same straight and mighty
+figure, and there was the marvelous sword play as well.  
+It must be he, and yet Roger de Conde had spoken no
+English while this man spoke it well, though, it was
+true, with a slight French accent.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the
+visored knight with quiet dignity.
+
+The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept
+through her.  For years that name had been the symbol
+of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred against her kind.  
+Little children were frightened into obedience by the
+vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them,
+and grown men had come to whisper the name with
+grim, set lips.
+
+"Norman of Torn!" she whispered.  "May God have
+mercy on my soul!"
+
+Beneath the visored helm a wave of pain and sorrow
+surged across the countenance of the outlaw, and a
+little shudder, as of a chill of hopelessness, shook his
+giant frame.
+
+"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly.  "You
+shall be in your father's castle of Leicester ere the sun
+marks noon.  And you will be safer under the protection
+of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own mighty
+father, or your royal uncle."
+
+"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn,"
+spoke the girl, "and I believe you, but tell me why
+you thus befriend a De Montfort."
+
+"It is not for love of your father or your brothers,
+nor yet hatred of Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any
+reward whatsoever.  It pleases me to do as I do, that
+is all.  Come."
+
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the
+lowered drawbridge, to where they soon discovered a
+group of horsemen, and in answer to a low challenge
+from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it was he.
+
+"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole.  
+Bring out to me, alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's
+cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy, when all is done as
+I say, you may apply the torch! but no looting, Shandy."
+
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the
+torch had never been a weapon of Norman of Torn,
+while loot, if not always the prime object of his many
+raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his
+faithful subaltern and signing him to listen, said:
+
+"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked
+and pillaged for the love of it, and for a principle which
+was at best but a vague generality.  Tonight we ride to
+redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade de Mont-
+fort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter.  The torch,
+Shandy, from tower to scullery, but in the service of My
+Lady, no looting."
+
+"Yes, My Lord," answered Shandy, and departed with
+his little detachment.
+
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners,
+but no Peter of Colfax.
+
+"He has flown, My Lord," the big fellow reported,
+and indeed it was true.  Peter of Colfax had passed
+through the vaults beneath his castle and by a long sub-
+terranean passage had reached the quarters of some
+priests without the lines of Norman of Torn.  By this
+time he was several miles on his way to the coast, and
+France; for he had recognized the swordsmanship of
+the outlaw, and did not care to remain in England and
+face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de
+Montfort.
+
+"He will return," was the outlaw's only comment,
+when he had been fully convinced that the Baron had es-
+caped.
+
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in
+a dozen places, the prisoners huddled together in terror
+and apprehension, fully expecting a summary and hor-
+rible death.
+
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no
+human power could now save the doomed pile, he
+ordered that the march be taken up, and the warriors
+filed down the roadway behind their leader and Ber-
+trade de Montfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners
+sorely puzzled but unharmed and free.
+
+As they looked back they saw the heavens red with
+the great flames that sprang high above the lofty
+towers.  Immense volumes of dense smoke rolled south-
+ward across the sky line.  Occasionally it would clear
+away from the burning castle for an instant to show the
+black walls pierced by their hundreds of embrasures,
+each lit up by the red of the raging fire within.  It was
+a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common
+in those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy
+of more than a passing backward glance.
+
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders
+who wended their slow way down the mud-slippery
+road.  Norman of Torn was both elated and sad.  Elated
+that he had been in time to save this girl who awakened
+such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a
+loathesome thing in her eyes.  But that it was pure
+happiness just to be near her, sufficed him for the time;
+of the morrow, what use to think! The little, grim, gray,
+old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did not dare vent
+openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de
+Montfort to Torn to search for his sister; while the fol-
+lowers of the outlaw swore quietly over the vagary
+which had brought them on this long ride without either
+fighting or loot.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder
+that she should owe her life and honor to this fierce,
+wild cut-throat who had sworn especial hatred against
+her family, because of its relationship to the house of
+Plantagenet.  She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed
+fair spoken for so rough a man; she wondered what man-
+ner of countenance might lie beneath that barred visor.
+
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings
+at his saddle's cantel and threw it about the shoulders of
+the girl, for the night air was chilly, and again he dis-
+mounted and led her palfrey around a bad place in the
+road, lest the beast might slip and fall.
+
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these
+services, but beyond that no word passed between them,
+and they came, in silence, about midday within sight
+of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion
+by the approach of so large a party of armed men, so
+that, by the time they were in hailing distance, the
+walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting
+men.
+
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when
+he was beneath the castle walls Simon de Montfort called
+forth:
+
+"Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?"
+
+"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the
+service of a De Montfort," replied Shandy.  "He would
+enter with one companion, my Lord Earl."
+
+"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon
+de Montfort--thinks he that I keep a robbers' roost!"
+cried the fierce old warrior.
+
+"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all Eng-
+land," boasted the red giant.  "Will you see him in peace,
+My Lord?"
+
+"Let him enter," said De Montfort, "but no knavery,
+now, we are a thousand men here, well armed and
+ready fighters."
+
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and
+together Norman of Torn and Bertrade de Montfort
+clattered across the drawbridge beneath the portcullis
+of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of
+Henry III of England.
+
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her
+protector, for it had been raining, so that she rode
+beneath the eyes of her father's men without being rec-
+ognized.  In the courtyard they were met by Simon de
+Montfort, and his sons Henry and Simon.
+
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount,
+and, flinging aside the outlaw's cloak, rushed toward
+her astounded parent.
+
+"What means this," cried De Montfort, "has the ras-
+cal offered you harm or indignity?"
+
+"You craven liar," cried Henry de Montfort, "but yes-
+terday you swore upon your honor that you did not
+hold my sister, and I, like a fool, believed." And with
+his words the young man flung himself upon Norman of
+Torn with drawn sword.
+
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the
+visored knight flew from its scabbard, and, with a
+single lightning-like move, sent the blade of young De
+Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then before
+either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort
+had sprung between them and placing a hand upon the
+breastplate of the outlaw stretched forth the other with
+palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as though to pro-
+tect Norman of Torn from further assault.
+
+"Be he outlaw or devil," she cried, "he is a brave
+and courteous knight, and he deserves from the hands
+of the De Montforts the best hospitality they can give,
+and not cold steel and insults." Then she explained
+briefly to her astonished father and brothers what had
+befallen during the past few days.
+
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked
+him, was the first to step forward with outstretched hand
+to thank Norman of Torn, and to ask his pardon for his
+rude words and hostile act.
+
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+
+"Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the
+hand of Norman of Torn.  I give not my hand except
+in friendship, and not for a passing moment; but for
+life.  I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude,
+but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still
+Norman the Devil, and that you have seen my mark
+upon the brows of your dead.  I would gladly have your
+friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of Torn,
+with all his faults as well as what virtues you may think
+him to possess."
+
+"You are right, sir," said the Earl, "you have our
+gratitude and our thanks for the service you have ren-
+dered the house of Montfort, and ever during our lives
+you may command our favors.  I admire your bravery
+and your candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of
+Torn you may not break bread at the table of De
+Montfort as a friend would have the right to do."
+
+"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man," said
+Norman of Torn quietly.  "I go, but remember that
+from this day I have no quarrel with the House of
+Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms
+they are at your service, a thousand strong.  Goodbye."
+But as he turned to go, Bertrade de Montfort confronted
+him with outstretched hand.
+
+"You must take my hand in friendship," she said,
+"for to my dying day I must ever bless the name of
+Norman of Torn because of the horror from which he
+has rescued me."
+
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and
+bending upon one knee raised them to his lips.
+
+"To no other--woman, man, king, God, or devil--
+has Norman of Torn bent the knee.  If ever you need
+him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his services
+are yours for the asking."
+
+And turning he mounted and rode in silence from
+the courtyard of the castle of Leicester.  Without a back-
+ward glance, and with his five hundred men at his back,
+Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in the
+roadway.
+
+"A strange man," said Simon de Montfort, "both good
+and bad, but from today I shall ever believe more
+good than bad.  Would that he were other than he be
+for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the ene-
+mies of England, an he could be persuaded to our
+cause."
+
+"Who knows," said Henry de Montfort, "but that an
+offer of friendship might have won him to a better life.
+It seemed that in his speech was a note of wistfulness.
+I wish, father, that we had taken his hand."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SEVERAL days after Norman of Torn's visit to the
+castle of Leicester, a young knight appeared before the
+Earl's gates demanding admittance to have speech with
+Simon de Montfort.  The Earl received him, and as the
+young man entered his presence Simon de Montfort
+sprang to his feet in astonishment.
+
+"My Lord Prince," he cried.  "What do ye here, and
+alone?"
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+"I be no prince, My Lord," he said, "though some
+have said that I favor the King's son.  I be Roger de
+Conde whom it may have pleased your gracious daugh-
+ter to mention.  I have come to pay homage to Bertrade
+de Montfort."
+
+"Ah," said De Montfort, rising to greet the young
+knight cordially, "an you be that Roger de Conde who
+rescued my daughter from the fellows of Peter of Col-
+fax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+
+"Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many
+times since her return.  She will be glad indeed to re-
+ceive you, as is her father.  She has told us of your
+valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her
+brothers and mother await you, Roger de Conde.
+
+"She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince
+Edward, but until I saw you I could not believe two
+men could be born of different mothers and yet be so
+identical.  Come, we will seek out my daughter and her
+mother."
+
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber
+where they were greeted by Princess Eleanor, his
+wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort.  The girl was frankly
+glad to see him once more and laughingly chid him
+because he had allowed another to usurp his prerogative
+and rescue her from Peter of Colfax.
+
+"And to think," she cried, "that it should have been
+Norman of Torn who fulfilled your duties for you.  But
+he did not capture Sir Peter's head, my friend; that
+is still at large to be brought to me upon a golden
+dish."
+
+"I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade," said Roger
+de Conde.  "Peter of Colfax will return."
+
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+
+"The very words of the Outlaw of Torn," she said.  
+"How many men be ye, Roger de Conde?  With raised
+visor you could pass in the King's court for the King's
+son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and
+your visor lowered, you might easily be hanged for
+Norman of Torn."
+
+"And which would it please ye most that I be?" he
+laughed.
+
+"Neither," she answered, "I be satisfied with my
+friend, Roger de Conde."
+
+"So ye like not the Devil of Torn?" he asked.
+
+"He has done me a great service, and I be under
+monstrous obligations to him, but he be, nathless, the
+Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of an earl and a
+king's sister."
+
+"A most unbridgeable gulf indeed," commented Rog-
+er de Conde, drily.  "Not even gratitude could lead a
+king's niece to receive Norman of Torn on a footing
+of equality."
+
+"He has my friendship, always," said the girl, "but
+I doubt me if Norman of Torn be the man to impose
+upon it."
+
+"One can never tell," said Roger de Conde, "what
+manner of fool a man may be.  When a man's head
+be filled with a pretty face, what room be there for
+reason?"
+
+"Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at
+this turning of pretty compliments," said the girl coldly;
+"and I like not courtiers, nor their empty, hypocritical
+chatter."
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"If I turned a compliment I did not know it," he
+said.  "What I think, I say.  It may not be a courtly
+speech or it may.  I know nothing of courts and care
+less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what
+is in my mind or I say nothing.  I did not in so many
+words say that you are beautiful, but I think it never-
+theless, and ye cannot be angry with my poor eyes if
+they deceive me into believing that no fairer woman
+breathes the air of England.  Nor can you chide my
+sinful brain that it gladly believes what mine eyes tell
+it. No, you may not be angry so long as I do not tell
+you all this."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer
+so ridiculous a sophistry; and, truth to tell, she was
+more than pleased to hear from the lips of Roger de
+Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester
+for several days, and before his visit was terminated the
+young man had so won his way into the good graces of
+the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+
+Although denied the society of such as these through-
+out his entire life, yet it seemed that he fell as naturally
+into the ways of their kind as though he had always
+been among them.  His starved soul, groping through the
+darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting
+and the light of friendship, and urged him to turn his
+back upon the old life, and remain ever with these
+people, for Simon de Montfort had offered the young man
+a position of trust and honor in his retinue.
+
+"Why refused you the offer of my father?" said Ber-
+trade to him as he was come to bid her farewell.  "Simon
+de Montfort is as great a man in England as the King
+himself, and your future were assured did you attach
+your self to his person.  But what am I saying! Did Roger
+de Conde not wish to be elsewhere he had accepted,
+and as he did not accept it is proof positive that he
+does not wish to bide among the De Montforts."
+
+"I would give my soul to the devil," said Norman
+of Torn, "would it buy me the right to remain ever
+at the feet of Bertrade Montfort."
+
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he
+started to speak, but something--was it an almost im-
+perceptible pressure of her little fingers, a quickening
+of her breath or a swaying of her body toward him?--
+caused him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man
+sinking deep into the eyes of the maid, and then hers
+closed and with a little sigh that was half gasp she
+swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the
+King's niece in his mighty arms and his lips placed the
+seal of a great love upon those that were upturned to
+him.
+
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to
+himself.
+
+"Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade," he cried, "what is this
+thing that I have done!  Forgive me, and let the great-
+ness and the purity of my love for you plead in extenu-
+ation of my act."
+
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then
+placing her strong white hands upon his shoulders, she
+whispered:
+
+"See, Roger, I am not angry.  It is not wrong that
+we love; tell me it is not, Roger."
+
+"You must not say that you love me, Bertrade.  I am
+a coward, a craven poltroon; but, God, how I love you."
+
+"But," said the girl, "I do love--"
+
+"Stop," he cried, "not yet, not yet.  Do not say it till
+I come again.  You know nothing of me, you do not
+know even who I be; but when next I come I promise
+that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know,
+and then, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say,
+'I love you' no power on earth, or in heaven above, or
+hell below shall keep you from being mine!"
+
+"I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust
+you.  I do not understand, but I know that you must
+have some good reason, though it all seems very strange
+to me.  If I, a De Montfort, am willing to acknowledge
+my love for any man there can be no reason why I
+should not do so, unless," and she started at the sudden
+thought, wide-eyed and paling, "unless there be an-
+other woman, a--a--wife?"
+
+"There is no other woman, Bertrade," said Norman
+of Torn.  "I have no wife; nor within the limits of my
+memory have my lips ever before touched the lips of
+another, for I do not remember my mother."
+
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing
+lightly, said:
+
+"It is some old woman's bugaboo that you are haling
+out of a dark corner of your imagination to frighten
+yourself with.  I do not fear, since I know that you must
+be all good.  There be no line of vice or deception
+upon your face and you are very brave.  So brave and
+noble a man, Roger, has a heart of pure gold."
+
+"Don't," he said, bitterly.  "I cannot endure it.  Wait
+until I come again and then, oh my flower of all Eng-
+land, if you have it in your heart to speak as you are
+speaking now the sun of my happiness will be at
+zenith.  Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl,
+thy father.  Farewell, Bertrade, in a few days I return."
+
+"If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject,
+you insolent young puppy, you may save your breath,"
+thundered an angry voice, and Simon de Montfort
+strode, scowling, into the room.
+
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for
+the fighting blood of the De Montforts was as strong
+in her as in her sire.  She faced him with as brave and
+resolute a face as did the young man, who turned
+slowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze.
+
+"I heard enough of your words as I was passing
+through the corridor," continued the latter, "to readily
+guess what had gone before.  So it is for this that you
+have wormed your sneaking way into my home? And
+thought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his
+daughter at the head of the first passing rogue? Who
+be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aught we know some
+low born lackey.  Get ye hence, and be only thankful
+that I do not aid you with the toe of my boot where it
+would do the most good."
+
+"Stop!" cried the girl.  "Stop, father, hast forgot that
+but for Roger de Conde ye might have seen your
+daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse, herself befouled
+and dishonored?"
+
+"I do not forget," replied the Earl, "and it is because
+I remember, that my sword remains in its scabbard.  
+The fellow has been amply repaid by the friendship of
+De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped
+clean the score.  An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go
+quickly, ere I lose my temper."
+
+"There has been some misunderstanding on your
+part, My Lord," spoke Norman of Torn, quietly and
+without apparent anger or excitement.  "Your daughter
+has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contem-
+plate asking you for her hand.  When next I come, first
+shall I see her and if she will have me, My Lord, I
+shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed her.  Norm
+--Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do
+what he would do."
+
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage
+but he managed to control himself to say,
+
+"My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I
+have practically closed negotiations for her betrothal to
+Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis of France.  And as
+for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
+Outlaw of Torn.  He at least has wealth and power,
+and a name that be known outside his own armor.  But
+enough of this; get you gone, nor let me see your face
+again within the walls of Leicester's castle."
+
+"You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle
+for us to be quarreling with words," said the outlaw.  
+"Farewell, My Lady.  I shall return as I promised, and
+your word shall be law." And with a profound bow to
+De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and
+in a few minutes was riding through the courtyard of
+the castle toward the main portals.
+
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall a
+voice called to him from above, and drawing in his
+horse, he looked up into the eyes of Bertrade de Mont-
+fort.
+
+"Take this, Roger de Conde," she whispered, drop-
+ping a tiny parcel to him, "and wear it ever, for my
+sake.  We may never meet again, for the Earl my
+father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his
+decisions; therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde,
+what you forbid my saying, I love you, and be ye
+prince or scullion you may have me, if you can find
+the means to take me."
+
+"Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide,
+and if ye be of the same mind as today, never fear but
+that I shall take ye.  Again, farewell." And with a brave
+smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn passed
+out of the castle yard.
+
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed
+to him he found that it contained a beautifully wrought
+ring set with a single opal.
+
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his
+lips, and then slipped it upon the third finger of his
+left hand.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+NORMAN of Torn did not return to the castle of
+Leicester "in a few days," nor for many months.  For
+news came to him that Bertrade de Montfort had
+been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+
+From now on the forces of Torn were employed in
+repeated attacks on royalist barons, encroaching ever
+and ever southward until even Berkshire and Surrey
+and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the
+outlaw.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he
+had held the fair form of Bertrade de Montfort in his
+arms, and in all that time he had heard no word from
+her.
+
+He would have followed her to France but for the
+fact that, after he had parted from her and the intoxi-
+cation of her immediate presence had left his brain
+clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of
+his hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit
+could mean only suffering and mortification for the
+woman he loved.
+
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part,
+when freed from the subtle spell woven by the near-
+ness and the newness of a first love would doubtless be
+glad to forget the words she had spoken in the heat
+of a divine passion.  He would wait, then, until fate
+threw them together, and should that ever chance,
+while she was still free, he would let her know that
+Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one
+and the same.
+
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not,
+no it is impossible.  It is better that she marry her French
+prince than to live, dishonored, the wife of a common
+highwayman; for though she might love me at first,
+the bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her
+love to hate.
+
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage
+of Father Claude, the priest reverted to the subject of
+many past conversations; the unsettled state of civil
+conditions in the realm, and the stand which Norman
+of Torn would take when open hostilities between King
+and baron were declared.
+
+"It would seem that Henry," said the priest, "by his
+continued breaches of both the spirit and letter of the
+Oxford Statutes is but urging the barons to resort to
+arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince Ed-
+ward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun
+last fall, and to carry the ravages of war throughout
+the Welsh border provinces, convinces me that he be by
+this time well equipped to resist De Montfort and his
+associates."
+
+"If that be the case," said Norman of Torn, "we shall
+have war and fighting in real earnest ere many months."
+
+"And under which standard does My Lord Norman
+expect to fight?" asked Father Claude.
+
+"Under the black falcon's wing," laughed he of Torn.
+
+"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son," said
+the priest, smiling.  "Such an attribute helpeth make a
+great statesman.  With thy soldierly qualities in addi-
+tion, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in
+the paths of honest men.  Dost remember our past talk?"
+
+"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't.  I
+have one more duty to perform here in England and
+then it may be, that I shall act on thy suggestion, but
+only on one condition."
+
+"What be that, my son?"
+
+"That wheresoere I go thou must go also.  Thou be
+my best friend; in truth, my father; none other have I
+ever known, for the little old man of Torn, even though
+I be the product of his loins, which I much mistrust, be
+no father to me."
+
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for
+many minutes before he spoke.
+
+Without the cottage a swarthy figure skulked be-
+neath one of the windows, listening to such fragments
+of the conversation within as came to his attentive ears.  
+It was Spizo the Spaniard.  He crouched entirely con-
+cealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before
+had hid his traitorous form.
+
+At length the priest spoke.
+
+"Norman of Torn," he said, "so long as thou remain
+in England, pitting thy great host against the Plantage-
+net King and the nobles and barons of his realm, thou
+be but serving as the cats-paw of another.  Thyself
+hast said an hundred times that thou knowst not the
+reason for thy hatred against them.  Thou be too strong
+a man to so throw thy life uselessly away to satisfy
+the choler of another.
+
+"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee
+yet and only may I guess and dream of what I think,
+nor do I know whether I must hope that it be false
+or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the
+question to be settled.  Thou hast not told me in so
+many words, but I be an old man and versed in reading
+true between the lines, and so I know that thou lovest
+Bertrade de Montfort.  Nay, do not deny it.  And now
+what I would say be this.  In all England there lives no
+more honorable man than Simon de Montfort, nor none
+who could more truly decide upon thy future and thy
+past.  Thou may not understand of what I hint, but
+thou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father," re-
+plied the outlaw.
+
+"Then promise me that with the old man of Torn
+alone thou wilt come hither when I bidst thee and meet
+Simon de Montfort, and abide by his decision should
+my surmises concerning thee be correct.  He will be the
+best judge of any in England, save two who must now
+remain nameless."
+
+"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the
+fourth day we ride south."
+
+"It shall be by the third day, or not at all," replied
+Father Claude, and Norman of Torn rising to leave
+wondered at the moving leaves of the lilac bush with-
+out the window, for there was no breeze.
+
+Spizo the Spaniard reached Torn several minutes
+before the outlaw chief and had already poured his
+tale into the ears of the little, grim, gray, old man.
+
+As the priest's words were detailed to him the old
+man of Torn paled in anger.
+
+"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which
+I have devoted near twenty years," he muttered, "if
+I find not the means to quiet his half-wit tongue.  Be-
+tween priest and petticoat it be all but ruined now.  
+Well then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know
+not but that now be as good a time as any.  If we come
+near enough to the King's men on this trip south, the
+gibbet shall have its own and a Plantagenet dog shall
+taste the fruits of his own tyranny," then glancing up
+and realizing that Spizo the Spaniard had been a listen-
+er, the old man, scowling, cried:
+
+"What said I, sirrah?  What didst hear?"
+
+"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoher-
+ently", replied the Spaniard.
+
+The old man eyed him closely.
+
+"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but mut-
+tering, remember."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+An hour later the old man of Torn dismounted be-
+fore the cottage of Father Claude and entered.
+
+"I am honored," said the priest, rising.
+
+"Priest," cried the old man, coming immediately to
+the point, "Norman of Torn tells me that thou wish
+him and me and Leicester to meet here.  I know not
+what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake carry
+not out thy design as yet.  I may not tell thee my rea-
+sons, but it be best that this meeting take place after
+we return from the south."
+
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father
+Claude before, and so the latter was quite deceived
+and promised to let the matter rest until later.
+
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of
+Torn rode at the head of his army of outlaws through
+the county of Essex, down toward London town.  One
+thousand fighting men there were, with squires and
+other servants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to
+transport their tents and other impedimenta, and bring
+back the loot.
+
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants
+had been left to guard the castle of Torn under the
+able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+
+At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the
+little grim, gray, old man; and behind them nine com-
+panies of knights, followed by the catapult detachment;
+then came the sumpter beasts.  Horsan the Dane,
+with his company, formed the rear guard.  Three hun-
+dred yards in advance of the column rode ten men to
+guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and
+the loud rattling of sword, and lance and armor and
+iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and ear ample assur-
+ance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent
+upon no peaceful mission.
+
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn.  
+Beside those whom we have met there was Don Piedro
+Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron of Cobarth of Germany,
+and Sir John Mandecote of England.  Like their leader,
+each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon
+his head, and the story of the life of any one would
+fill a large volume with romance, war, intrigue, treach-
+ery, bravery and death.
+
+Toward noon one day in the midst of a beautiful
+valley of Essex they came upon a party of ten knights
+escorting two young women.  The meeting was at a
+turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon
+each other before the ten knights had an opportunity
+to escape with their fair wards.
+
+"What the devil be this," cried one of the knights, as
+the main body of the outlaw horde came into view,
+"the King's army or one of his foreign legions?"
+
+"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men," replied
+the outlaw.
+
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were
+ten against a thousand, and there were two women
+with them.
+
+"Who be ye?" said the outlaw.
+
+"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest
+knight, he who had first spoken, "and these be my
+daughter and her friend, Mary de Stutevill.  We are
+upon our way from London to my castle.  What would
+you of us? Name your price, if it can be paid with
+honor it shall be paid; only let us go our way in peace.  
+We cannot hope to resist the Devil of Torn, for we be
+but ten lances.  If ye must have blood, at least let the
+women go unharmed."
+
+"My Lady Mary is an old friend," said the outlaw.  
+"I called at her father's home but little more than a
+year since.  We are neighbors, and the lady can tell
+you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of
+Torn than they might be in the King's palace."
+
+"Right he is," spoke up Lady Mary, "Norman of Torn
+accorded my mother, my sister, and myself the utmost
+respect; though I cannot say as much for his treatment
+of my father," she added, half smiling.
+
+"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said
+Norman of Torn.  "Ride on."
+
+The next day a young man hailed the watch upon
+the walls of the castle of Richard de Tany telling him
+to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger de Conde, a
+friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+
+In a few moments the great drawbridge sank slowly
+into place and Norman of Torn trotted into the court-
+yard.
+
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de
+Stutevill and Joan de Tany were waiting to receive him.  
+Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an old friend, and
+the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in wel-
+coming her friend's friend to the hospitality of her fath-
+er's castle.
+
+"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after
+you to Essex," cried Joan de Tany, laughingly, address-
+ing Mary.  "Today it is Roger de Conde, yesterday it
+was the Outlaw of Torn.  Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home."
+
+"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe
+this visit from Roger de Conde," said Mary, smiling.  
+"For I have heard tales, and I see a great ring upon
+the gentleman's hand--a ring which I have seen before."
+
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason
+for his visit, but asked bluntly if she heard aught of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"Thrice within the year have I received missives
+from her," replied Mary.  "In the first two she spoke
+only of Roger de Conde, wondering why he did not
+come to France after her; but in the last she mentions
+not his name, but speaks of her approaching marriage
+with Prince Philip."
+
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger
+de Conde narrowly, but no sign of the sorrow which
+filled his heart showed itself upon his face.
+
+"I guess it be better so," he said quietly.  "The daugh-
+ter of a De Montfort could scarcely be happy with a
+nameless adventurer," he added, a little bitterly.
+
+"You wrong her, my friend," said Mary de Stutevill,
+she loved you,--and unless I know not the friend of my
+childhood as well as I know myself, she loves you yet;
+but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what
+can you expect when she hears no word from you for
+a year? Thought you that she would seek you out and
+implore you to rescue her from the alliance her father
+has made for her?"
+
+"You do not understand," he answered, "and I may
+not tell you; but I ask that you believe me when I say
+that it was for her own peace of mind, for her own
+happiness, that I did not follow her to France.  But let
+us talk of other things; the sorrow is mine and I would
+not force it upon others.  I cared only to know that she
+is well, and, I hope, happy.  It will never be given to
+me to make her or any other woman so.  I would that
+I had never come into her life, but I did not know what
+I was doing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness
+was strong upon me, so that I was weak and could not
+resist what I had never known before in all my life--
+love."
+
+"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany,
+generously.  "Bertrade de Montfort is all and even more
+than you have said; it be a benediction simply to have
+known her."
+
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her criti-
+cally for the first time, and he saw that Joan de Tany
+was beautiful, and that when she spoke her face lighted
+with a hundred little changing expressions of intelli-
+gence and character that cast a spell of fascination
+about her.  Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon,
+and Norman of Torn carried a wounded heart in his
+breast that longed for surcease from its sufferings--for
+a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises.
+
+And so it came to pass that for many days the Outlaw
+of Torn was a daily visitor at the castle of Richard de
+Tany, and the acquaintance between the man and the
+two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and with one
+of them it threatened even more.
+
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of
+women, saw only friendship in the little acts of Joan
+de Tany.  His life had been a hard and lonely one.  The
+only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had
+entered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort
+and hers for him.
+
+His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he
+knew was not for him, but he longed for the compan-
+ionship of his own kind and so welcomed the friendship
+of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest.  He did not
+dream that either looked upon him with any warmer
+sentiment than the sweet friendliness which was as new
+to him as love--how could he mark the line between
+or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!
+
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but
+fickle and shallow in matters of the heart--many there
+were, she knew, who were thus.  She might have warned
+him had she known the truth, but instead she let things
+drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de
+Tany.
+
+"Be careful of thy heart, Joan," she said, "lest it be
+getting away from thee into the keeping of one who
+seems to love no less quickly than he forgets."
+
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+
+"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart,
+Mary de Stutevill," she replied warmly.  "If thou covet
+this man thyself, why, but say so--do not think though
+that because thy heart glows in his presence mine is
+equally susceptible."
+
+It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp
+retort was on her tongue when suddenly she realized
+the folly of such a useless quarrel.  Instead she put her
+arms about Joan and kissed her.
+
+"I do not love him," she said, "and I be glad that
+you do not, for I know that Bertrade does, and that but
+a short year since he swore undying love for her.  Let
+us forget that we have spoken on the subject."
+
+It was at this time that the King's soldiers were har-
+assing the lands of the rebel barons, and taking a heavy
+toll in revenge for their stinging defeat at Rochester
+earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe for small
+parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into
+the hands of the mercenaries of Henry III.
+
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons
+exempt from the attacks of the royalists; and it was no
+uncommon occurrence to find them suffering imprison-
+ment, and something worse, at the hands of the King's
+supporters.
+
+And in the midst of these alarms it entered the will-
+ful head of Joan de Tany that she wished to ride to
+London town and visit the shops of the merchants.
+
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and
+against the King's party, the road between the castle
+of Richard de Tany and the city of London was beset
+with many dangers.
+
+"Why," cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "be-
+tween robbers and royalists and the Outlaw of Torn
+you would not be safe if you had an army to escort
+you."
+
+"But then, as I have no army," retorted the laughing
+girl, "if you reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed
+quite safe."
+
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade
+her, she taunted him with being afraid of meeting with
+the Devil of Torn, and told him that he might remain
+at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.
+
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they
+set out upon the road to London; the two girls with a
+dozen servants and knights; and Roger de Conde was
+of the party.
+
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched
+a messenger from the outlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow,
+disguised as a priest, whose orders were to proceed to
+London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany,
+with Roger de Conde, enter the city he was to deliver
+the letter he bore to the captain of the gate.
+
+The letter contained this brief message:
+
+"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman
+of Torn," and was unsigned.
+
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the
+fears of those who had attempted to dissuade her when,
+at a cross road, they discovered two parties of armed
+men approaching from opposite directions.  The leader
+of the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the
+little band, and, reining in before them, cried brusque-
+ly,
+
+"Who be ye?"
+
+"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of Lon-
+don," replied Norman of Torn.
+
+"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow.  "I asked,
+who be ye? Answer, and be quick about it."
+
+"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and
+these be my sisters and servants," lied the outlaw, "and
+were it not that the ladies be with me your answer
+would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your
+boorish insolence."
+
+"There be plenty of room and time for that even
+now, you dog of a French coward," cried the officer,
+couching his lance as he spoke.
+
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could
+see the face of Roger de Conde, and it filled her heart
+with pride and courage as she saw and understood the
+little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as he
+heard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his
+own spear.
+
+Wheeling their horses toward one another the two
+combatants, who were some ninety feet apart, charged
+at full tilt.  As they came together the impact was so
+great that both horses were nearly overturned and the
+two powerful war lances were splintered into a hundred
+fragments as each struck the exact center of his oppo-
+nent's shield.  Then, wheeling their horses and throwing
+away the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde
+and the officer advanced with drawn swords.
+
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon
+De Conde, attempting to ride him down in one mad
+rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from the tip of
+the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to
+renew the battle they settled down to fierce combat,
+their horses wheeling and turning shoulder to shoulder.
+
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching
+the encounter, the eyes of Joan de Tany alight with the
+fire of battle as she followed every move of the won-
+drous sword play of Roger de Conde.
+
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his
+visor, and the grim and haughty smile that played upon
+his lips spoke louder than many words the utter con-
+tempt in which he held the sword of his adversary.  And
+as Joan de Tany watched she saw the smile suddenly
+freeze to a cold, hard line, and the eyes of the man
+narrow to mere slits, and her woman's intuition read the
+death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword of
+the outlaw buried itself in his heart.
+
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist
+soldiers had sat spellbound as they watched the battle,
+but now, as their leader's corpse rolled from the saddle
+they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his little
+party.
+
+The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds
+were heavy and even with the mighty arm of Norman
+of Torn upon their side the outcome was apparent from
+the first.
+
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his
+blade was equal to the thrust and one after another of
+his assailants crumpled up in their saddles as his leap-
+ing point found their vitals.
+
+Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one,
+an old servitor, spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and
+Mary de Stutevill.
+
+"Come, my ladies," he cried, "quick and you may
+escape.  They be so busy with the battle that they will
+never notice."
+
+"Take the Lady Mary, John," cried Joan, "I brought
+Roger de Conde to this pass against the advice of all
+and I remain with him to the end."
+
+"But, My Lady--" cried John.
+
+"But nothing, sirrah!" she interrupted sharply.  "Do
+as you are bid.  Follow my Lady Mary, and see that
+she comes to my father's castle in safety," and raising
+her riding whip she struck Mary's palfrey across the
+rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider
+as he leaped frantically to one side and started madly
+up the road down which they had come.
+
+"After her, John," commanded Joan peremptorily,
+and see that you turn not back until she be safe with-
+in the castle walls; then you may bring aid."
+
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious
+little Lady Joan from her earliest childhood, and the
+habit was so strong upon him that he wheeled his
+horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady
+Mary de Stutevill.
+
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter be-
+fore her, she saw fully twenty men surrounding Roger
+de Conde, and while he was taking heavy toll of those
+before him he could not cope with the men who at-
+tacked him from behind; and even as she looked she
+saw a battle axe fall full upon his helm, and his sword
+drop from his nerveless fingers as his lifeless body
+rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-
+tramped clay of the highroad.
+
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly
+toward his prostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass
+of snorting, trampling, steel-clad horses, and surging
+fighting-men that surrounded him.  And well it was for
+Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day,
+for even as she reached his side the sword point of one
+of the soldiers was at his throat for the coup de grace.
+
+With a cry Joan de Tany threw herself across the
+outlaw's body, shielding him as best she could from the
+threatening sword.
+
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by
+the arm to drag her from his prey, but at this juncture
+a richly armored knight galloped up and drew rein
+beside the party.
+
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty;
+tall, handsome, black-mustached and with the haughty
+arrogance of pride most often seen upon the faces of
+those who have been raised by unmerited favor to
+positions of power and affluence.
+
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a for-
+eigner by birth and for years one of the King's favorites;
+the bitterest enemy of De Montfort and the barons.
+
+"What now?" he cried. "What goes on here?"
+
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+
+"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord
+Earl, but we routed them, taking these two prisoners."
+
+"Who be ye?" he said, turning toward Joan who was
+kneeling beside De Conde, and as she raised her head,
+"My God! The daughter of De Tany! a noble prize
+indeed my men.  And who be the knight?"
+
+"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl," replied the girl
+removing the helm, which she had been unlacing from
+the fallen man.
+
+"Edward?" he ejaculated.  "But no, it cannot be, I
+did but yesterday leave Edward in Dover."
+
+"I know not who he be," said Joan de Tany, "ex-
+cept that he be the most marvelous fighter and the
+bravest man it has ever been given me to see.  He called
+himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him
+other than that he looks like a prince, and fights like
+a devil.  I think he has no quarrel with either side, My
+Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make war on
+women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were
+when your soldiers wantonly set upon us."
+
+"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable cap-
+ture in these troublous times," replied the Earl, "and
+that alone were enough to necessitate my keeping you;
+but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and
+so I will grant you at least one favor, I will not take
+you to the King, but a prisoner you shall be in mine
+own castle for I am alone, and need the cheering com-
+pany of a fair and loving lady."
+
+The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full
+in the eye.
+
+"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that
+you be talking to some comely scullery maid? Do you
+forget that my house is honored in England, even
+though it does not share the King's favors with his
+foreign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter
+of a De Tany?"
+
+"All be fair in war, my beauty," replied the Earl.  
+"Egad," he continued, "methinks all would be fair in
+hell were they like unto you.  It has been some years
+since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox
+Richard de Tany kept such a package as this hid in his
+grimy old castle."
+
+"Then you refuse to release us?" said Joan de Tany.
+
+"Let us not put it thus harshly," countered the Earl.  
+"Rather let us say that it be so late in the day, and the
+way so beset with dangers that the Earl of Buckingham
+could not bring himself to expose the beautiful daugh-
+ter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so--"
+
+"Let us have an end to such foolishness," cried the
+girl.  "I might have expected naught better from a turn-
+coat foreign knave such as thee, who once joined in
+the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his
+friends to curry favor with the King."
+
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as
+though to strike the girl, but thinking better of it, he
+turned to one of the soldiers, saying:
+
+"Bring the prisoner with you.  If the man lives bring
+him also.  I would learn more of this fellow who mas-
+querades in the countenance of a crown prince."
+
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring
+castle of a rebel baron which had been captured by
+the royalists, and was now used as headquarters by
+De Fulm.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+WHEN Norman of Torn regained his senses he found
+himself in a small tower room in a strange castle.  His
+head ached horribly, and he felt sick and sore; but he
+managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, and
+by steadying his swaying body with hands pressed
+against the wall he was able to reach the door.  To his
+disappointment he found this locked from without,
+and in his weakened condition he made no attempt to
+force it.
+
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been
+when struck down, but his helmet was gone, as were
+also his sword and dagger.
+
+The day was drawing to a close, and as dusk fell
+and the room darkened he became more and more
+impatient.  Repeated pounding upon the door brought
+no response and finally he gave up in despair.  Going
+to the window he saw that his room was some thirty
+feet above the stone-flagged courtyard, and also that
+it looked at an angle upon other windows in the old
+castle where lights were beginning to show.  He saw
+men-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he
+caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, but he was not
+sure.
+
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and
+Mary de Stutevill.  He hoped that they had escaped,
+and yet--no, Joan certainly had not, for now he dis-
+tinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an
+instant just before the blow fell upon him, and he
+thought of the faith and confidence that he had read in
+that quick glance.  Such a look would nerve a jackal to
+attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw.  What a
+beautiful creature she was; and she had stayed there
+with him during the fight.  He remembered now; Mary
+de Stutevill had not been with her as he had caught
+that glimpse of her, no, she had been all alone.  Ah!
+That was friendship indeed!
+
+What else was it that tried to force its way above
+the threshold of his bruised and wavering memory?
+Words? Words of love? And lips pressed to his? No,
+it must be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate?
+He felt, and found a metal bauble linked to a mesh of
+his steel armor by a strand of silken hair.  He carried
+the little thing to the window, and in the waning light
+made it out to be a golden hair ornament set with
+precious stones, but he could not tell if the little strand
+of silken hair were black or brown.  Carefully he de-
+tached the little thing, and, winding the filmy tress
+about it, placed it within the breast of his tunic.  He
+was vaguely troubled by it, yet why he could scarcely
+have told, himself.
+
+Again turning to the window he watched the lighted
+rooms within his vision, and presently his view was
+rewarded by the sight of a knight coming within the
+scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+
+From his apparel he was a man of position, and he
+was evidently in heated discussion with some one
+whom Norman of Torn could not see.  The man, a great,
+tall black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pound-
+ing upon a table to emphasize his words, and presently
+he sprang up as though rushing toward the one to
+whom he had been speaking.  He disappeared from the
+watcher's view for a moment and then, at the far side
+of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him again just
+as he roughly grasped the figure of a woman who
+evidently was attempting to escape him.  As she turned
+to face her tormentor all the devil in the Devil of Torn
+surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was
+that of Joan de Tany.
+
+With a muttered oath the imprisoned man turned to
+hurl himself against the bolted door, but ere he had
+taken a single step the sound of heavy feet without
+brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was
+fitted to the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily
+to the wall beside the doorway, where the inswinging
+door would conceal him.
+
+As the door was pushed back a flickering torch
+lighted up, but dimly, the interior, so that until he had
+reached the center of the room, the visitor did not see
+that the cot was empty.
+
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword.  
+That was enough for the Devil of Torn--it was a sword
+he craved most; and, ere the fellow could assure his
+slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed
+upon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant
+form of the outlaw.
+
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies
+on the floor, and the clanking of their armor, they
+fought, the one to reach the dagger at his side, the
+other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+
+Presently the man-at-arms found what he sought,
+and, after tugging with ever diminishing strength, he
+felt the blade slip from its sheath.  Slowly and feebly
+he raised it high above the back of the man on top
+of him; with a last supreme effort he drove the point
+downward, but ere it reached its goal there was a sharp
+snapping sound as of a broken bone, the dagger fell
+harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolled
+backward upon his broken neck.
+
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead an-
+tagonist, Norman of Torn rushed from the tower room.
+
+
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal
+hands upon Joan de Tany she turned upon him like a
+tigress.  Blow after blow she rained upon his head and
+face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her full
+upon the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this
+did not subdue her and with ever weakening strength,
+she continued to strike him.  And then the great royal-
+ist Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took the fair
+white throat between his great fingers, and the lust
+of blood supplanted the lust of love, for he would have
+killed her in his rage.
+
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst
+with naked sword.  They were at the far end of the
+apartment, and his cry of anger at the sight caused the
+Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to
+meet him.
+
+There were no words, for there was no need of words
+here.  The two men were upon each other, and fighting
+to the death, before the girl had regained her feet.  It
+would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had
+not some of his men heard the fracas, and rushed to
+his aid.
+
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell
+into the room, fairly falling upon Norman of Torn in
+their anxiety to get their swords into him; but once
+they met that master hand they went more slowly, and
+in a moment two of them went no more at all, and
+the others, with the Earl, were but circling warily in
+search of a chance opening--an opening which never
+came.
+
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table
+in an angle of the room, and behind him stood Joan de
+Tany.
+
+"Move toward the left," she whispered.  "I know this
+old pile.  When you reach the table that bears the lamp
+there will be a small doorway directly behind you,
+strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my
+hand in your left, and then I will lead you through that
+doorway, which you must turn and quickly bolt after
+us. Do you understand?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-
+at-arms in the meantime keeping up an infernal howl-
+ing for help.  The Earl was careful to keep out of reach
+of the point of De Conde's sword, and the men-at-arms
+were nothing loath to emulate their master's example.
+
+Just as he reached his goal a dozen more men burst
+into the room, and emboldened by this reinforcement
+one of the men engaging De Conde came too close.  As
+he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman
+of Torn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from
+behind, and his sword swung with a resounding blow
+against the lamp.
+
+As darkness enveloped the chamber Joan de Tany
+led him through the little door, which he immediately
+closed and bolted as she had instructed.
+
+"This way," she whispered, again slipping her hand
+into his and in silence she led him through several dim
+chambers, and finally stopped before a blank wall in a
+great oak-panelled room.
+
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the
+molding; more and more rapidly she moved as the
+sound of hurrying footsteps resounded through the
+castle.
+
+"What is wrong?" asked Norman of Torn, noticing
+her increasing perturbation.
+
+"Mon Dieu!" she cried.   "Can I be wrong! Surely
+this is the room.  Oh, my friend, that I should have
+brought you to all this by my willfulness and vanity;
+and now when I might save you my wits leave me and
+I forget the way."
+
+"Do not worry about me," laughed the Devil of Torn.  
+"Methought that it was I who was trying to save you,
+and may heaven forgive me else, for surely that be my
+only excuse for running away from a handful of swords.
+I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan,"
+he added more gravely.
+
+ The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact
+the reflection from flickering torches could be seen in
+nearby chambers.
+
+At last the girl, with a little cry of "stupid," seized
+De Conde and rushed him to the far side of the room.
+
+"Here it is," she whispered joyously, "here it has
+been all the time." Running her fingers along the mold-
+ing until she found a little hidden spring she pushed
+it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in, reveal-
+ing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after
+her, and as the panel swung quietly into place the Earl
+of Buckingham with a dozen men entered the apart-
+ment.
+
+"The devil take them," cried De Fulm.  "Where can
+they have gone? Surely we were right behind them."
+
+"It is passing strange, My Lord," replied one of the
+men.  "Let us try the floor above, and the towers; for
+of a surety they have not come this way."  And the
+party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment empty.
+
+Behind the panel the girl stood shrinking close to
+De Conde, her hand still in his.
+
+"Where now?" he asked.  "Or do we stay hidden here
+like frightened chicks until the war is over and the
+Baron returns to let us out of this musty hole?"
+
+"Wait," she answered, "until I quiet my nerves a
+little.  I am all unstrung." He felt her body tremble as
+it pressed against his.
+
+With the spirit of protection strong within him what
+wonder that his arm fell about her shoulder as though
+to say, fear not, for I be brave and powerful; naught
+can harm you while I am here.
+
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made
+brave to do it by the sheltering darkness.
+
+"Roger," she whispered, her tongue halting over the
+familiar name.  "I thought that they had killed you, and
+all for me, for my foolish stubbornness.  Canst forgive
+me?"
+
+"Forgive?" he asked, smiling to himself.  "Forgive
+being given an opportunity to fight? There be nothing
+to forgive, Joan, unless it be that I should ask forgive-
+ness for protecting thee so poorly."
+
+"Do not say that," she commanded.  "Never was such
+bravery or such swordsmanship in all the world before;
+never such a man."
+
+He did not answer.  His mind was a chaos of con-
+flicting thoughts.  The feel of her hands as they had
+lingered momentarily, and with a vague caress upon
+his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned
+against him sent the hot blood coursing through his
+veins.  He was puzzled, for he had not dreamed that
+friendship was so sweet.  That she did not shrink from
+his encircling arms should have told him much, but
+Norman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman
+might look upon him with love.  Nor had he a thought
+of any other sentiment toward her than that of friend
+and protector.
+
+And then there came to him as in a vision another
+fair and beautiful face--Bertrade de Montfort's--and
+Norman of Torn was still more puzzled; for at heart
+he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within
+him.  Love of women was a new thing to him, and,
+robbed as he had been all his starved life of the affec-
+tion and kindly fellowship, of either men or women,
+it is little to be wondered at that he was easily impres-
+sionable and responsive to the feeling his strong per-
+sonality had awakened in two of England's fairest
+daughters.
+
+But with the vision of that other face there came to
+him a faint realization that mayhap it was a stronger
+power than either friendship or fear which caused that
+lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him.  That the
+responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaint-
+ance had so quickly reached was not his had never
+for a moment entered his head.  To him the fault was
+all his; and perhaps it was this quality of chivalry that
+was the finest of the many noble characteristics of his
+sterling character.  So his next words were typical of
+the man; and did Joan de Tany love him, or did she
+not, she learned that night to respect and trust him
+as she respected and trusted few men of her acquain-
+tance.
+
+"My Lady," said Norman of Torn, "we have been
+through much, and we are as little children in a dark
+attic, and so if I have presumed upon our acquaintance,"
+and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, "I
+ask you to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from
+weakness and from the pain of the blow upon my head."
+
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and with-
+out reply took his hand and led him forward through
+a dark, cold corridor.
+
+"We must go carefully now," she said at last, "for
+there be stairs near."
+
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter
+perhaps than conditions required, but she let it lie
+there as she led him forward, very slowly down a flight
+of rough stone steps.
+
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with
+him and then, being new at love, he blundered.
+
+"Joan de Tany," he said.
+
+"Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?"
+
+"You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with
+me. Tell me that you forgive what I have done, an it
+offended you.  I have so few friends," he added sadly,
+"that I cannot afford to lose such as you."
+
+"You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany,"
+she answered.  "You have won her respect and--and--"
+But she could not say it and so she trailed off lamely--
+"and undying gratitude."
+
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would
+have spoken had he dared to let her.  He did not, for
+there was always the vision of Bertrade de Montfort
+before him; and now another vision arose that would
+effectually have sealed his lips had not the other--he
+saw the Outlaw of Torn dangling by his neck from a
+wooden gibbet.
+
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved
+him, now he knew it, and while he marvelled that so
+wondrous a creature could feel love for him, again he
+blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for
+he did not return her love nor could he imagine a love
+strong enough to survive the knowledge that it was
+possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway,
+and Joan de Tany led him, gropingly, across what
+seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a large chamber.  
+The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no
+ray of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no
+sound broke the stillness.
+
+"This be the castle's crypt," whispered Joan; "and
+they do say that strange happenings occur here in the
+still watches of the night, and that when the castle
+sleeps the castle's dead rise from their coffins and shake
+their dry bones.
+
+"Sh! what was that?" as a rustling noise broke upon
+their ears close upon their right; and then there came
+a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany fled to the refuge
+of Norman of Torn's arms.
+
+"There is nothing to fear, Joan," reassured Norman
+of Torn.  "Dead men wield not swords, nor do they
+move, or moan.  The wind, I think, and rats are our
+only companions here."
+
+"I am afraid," she whispered.  "If you can make a
+light I am sure you will find an old lamp here in the
+crypt, and then will it be less fearsome.  As a child I
+visited this castle often, and in search of adventure
+we passed through these corridors an hundred times,
+but always by day and with lights."
+
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the
+lamp, lighted it.  The chamber was quite empty save
+for the coffins in their niches, and some effigies in
+marble set at intervals about the walls.
+
+"Not such a fearsome place after all," he said, laugh-
+ing lightly.
+
+"No place would seem fearsome now," she answered
+simply, "were there a light to show me that the brave
+face of Roger de Conde were by my side."
+
+"Hush, child," replied the outlaw.  "You know not
+what you say.  When you know me better you will be
+sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde is not what
+you think him.  So say no more of praise until we be
+out of this hole, and you safe in your father's halls."
+
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had
+but served to again bring the girl's face close to his so
+that he felt her hot, sweet breath upon his cheek, and
+thus another link was forged to bind him to her.
+
+With the aid of the lamp they made more rapid
+progress, and in a few moments reached a low door
+at the end of the arched passageway.
+
+"This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine
+below the castle.  We have passed beneath the walls
+and the moat.  What may we do now, Roger, without
+horses?"
+
+"Let us get out of this place, and as far away as
+possible under the cover of darkness, and I doubt not I
+may find a way to bring you to your father's castle,"
+replied Norman of Torn.
+
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice
+of the watch upon the castle walls, Norman of Torn
+pushed open the little door and stepped forth into the
+fresh night air.
+
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and
+wildwood that had there ever been a pathway it was
+now completely obliterated; and it was with difficulty
+that the man forced his way through the entangling
+creepers and tendrils.  The girl stumbled after him and
+twice fell before they had taken a score of steps.
+
+"I fear I am not strong enough," she said finally.  "The
+way is much more difficult than I had thought."
+
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms,
+and stumbled on through the darkness and the shrub-
+bery down the center of the ravine.  It required the
+better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to
+the roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon
+his shoulder and her hair brushed his cheek.  Once when
+she lifted her head to speak to him he bent toward her,
+and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushed hers.  
+He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint
+sigh breathed from her lips.
+
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not
+put her down.  A mist was before his eyes, and he could
+have crushed her to him and smothered those warm
+lips with his own.  Slowly his face inclined toward hers,
+closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him,
+and then, clear cut and distinct before his eyes, he
+saw the corpse of the Outlaw of Torn swinging by the
+neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside it
+knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many
+jewels.  Her face was averted and her arms were out-
+stretched toward the dangling form that swung and
+twisted from the grim, gaunt arm.  Her figure was
+racked with choking sobs of horror-stricken grief.  Pres-
+ently she staggered to her feet and turned away, bury-
+ing her face in her hands; but he saw her features for
+an instant then--the woman who openly and alone
+mourned the dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently
+he lowered Joan de Tany to the ground.  In that in-
+stant Norman of Torn had learned the difference be-
+tween friendship and love, and love and passion.
+
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the
+girl turned, wide-eyed and wondering, toward him.  She
+had felt the wild call of love and she could not under-
+stand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no
+vision beyond a life of happiness within those strong
+arms.
+
+"Joan," he said, "I would but now have wronged
+thee.  Forgive me.  Forget what has passed between us
+until I can come to you in my rightful colors, when the
+spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer
+upon us, and then,"--he paused--"and then I shall
+tell you who I be and you shall say if you still care to
+call me friend--no more than that shall I ask."
+
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only
+Bertrade de Montfort, but it had been a thousand times
+better had he done so.
+
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men
+sprang from the surrounding shadows, calling upon
+them to surrender.  The moonlight falling upon the
+leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with an enor-
+mous, bristling mustache--it was Shandy.
+
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+
+"It is I, Shandy," he said.  "Keep a still tongue in thy
+head until I speak with thee apart.  Wait here, My
+Lady Joan; these be friends."
+
+Drawing Shandy to one side he learned that the
+faithful fellow had become alarmed at his chief's con-
+tinued absence, and had set out with a small party to
+search for him.  They had come upon the riderless Sir
+Mortimer grazing by the roadside, and a short distance
+beyond had discovered evidences of the conflict at the
+cross-roads.  There they had found Norman of Torn's
+helmet, confirming their worst fears.  A peasant in a
+nearby hut had told them of the encounter, and had
+set them upon the road taken by the Earl and his prison-
+ers.
+
+"And here we be, My Lord," concluded the great
+fellow.
+
+"How many are you?" asked the outlaw.
+
+"Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in
+the bushes."
+
+"Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind
+us," said the chief.  "And, Shandy, let not the lady
+know that she rides this night with the Outlaw of Torn."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the
+road, back toward the castle of Richard de Tany.
+
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim
+force that sprang out of the shadows of the night to do
+the bidding of Roger de Conde, a gentleman of France.
+
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of
+Red Shandy; where had she seen that mighty frame
+before? And now she looked closely at the figure of
+Roger de Conde.  Yes, somewhere else had she seen
+these two men together; but where and when?
+
+And then the strangeness of another incident came
+to her mind.  Roger de Conde spoke no English,  and
+yet she had plainly heard English words upon  this
+man's lips as he addressed the red giant.
+
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one
+of his men who had picked it up at the crossroads, and
+now he rode in silence with lowered visor, as was his
+custom.
+
+There was something sinister now in his appearance,
+and as the moonlight touched the hard, cruel faces of
+the grim and silent men who rode behind him, a little
+shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of
+Richard de Tany, and a great shout went up from the
+watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+
+"Open! Open for My Lady Joan."
+
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was
+bustle and excitement.  A dozen voices asked a dozen
+questions only to cry out still others without waiting
+for replies.
+
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stute-
+vill were still fully clothed, having not lain down during
+the whole night.  They fairly fell upon Joan and Roger
+de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+
+"Come, come," said the Baron, "let us go within.  You
+must be fair famished for good food and drink."
+
+"I will ride, My Lord," replied Norman of Torn.  "I
+have a little matter of business with my friend the
+Earl of Buckingham.  Business which I fear will not
+wait."
+
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence.  Nor did she urge
+him to remain, as he raised her hand to his lips in
+farewell.  So Norman of Torn rode out of the courtyard;
+and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays
+of the drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched
+them through the gate, and a great light broke upon
+her, for what she saw was the same as she had seen a
+few days since when she had turned in her saddle to
+watch the retreating forms of the cut-throats of Torn
+as they rode on after halting her father's party.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+SOME hours later fifty men followed Norman of Torn
+on foot through the ravine below the castle where John
+de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his headquarters;
+while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods be-
+fore the grim pile.
+
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery they crawled
+unseen to the little door through which Joan de Tany
+had led him the night before.  Following the corridors
+and vaults beneath the castle they came to the stone
+stairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the
+false panel that had given the two fugitives egress.
+
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered
+the apartment followed closely by his henchmen.  On
+they went, through apartment after apartment, but
+no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their
+search, and it was soon apparent that the castle was
+deserted.
+
+As they came forth into the courtyard they descried
+an old man basking in the sun, upon a bench.  The
+sight of them nearly caused the old fellow to die of
+fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the un-
+tenanted halls was well reckoned to blanch even a
+braver cheek.
+
+When Norman of Torn questioned him he learned
+that De Fulm had ridden out early in the day bound
+for Dover, where Prince Edward then was.  The outlaw
+knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so
+fierce was his anger against this man, that he ordered
+his band to mount, and spurring to their head, he
+marched through Middlesex, and crossing the Thames
+above London, entered Surrey late the same afternoon.
+
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent,
+midway between London and Rochester, word came to
+Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham, having
+sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the
+wife of a royalist baron, whose husband was with Prince
+Edward's forces.
+
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant
+in my lady's household who held a grudge against his
+mistress for some wrong she had done him.  When,
+therefore, he found that these grim men were searching
+for De Fulm he saw a way to be revenged upon his
+mistress.
+
+"How many swords be there at the castle?" asked
+Norman of Torn.
+
+"Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham,"
+replied the knave; "and, furthermore, there be a way
+to enter, which I may show you, My Lord, so that you
+may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady
+and the Earl be supping."
+
+"Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy," commanded
+Norman of Torn.  "We shall pay a little visit upon
+our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl of Bucking-
+ham."
+
+Half an hour's ride brought them within sight of the
+castle.  Dismounting, and leaving their horses with one
+of the men, Norman of Torn advanced on foot with
+Shandy and the eight others, close in the wake of the
+traitorous servant.
+
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where,
+among the brush, he had hidden a rude ladder, which,
+when tilted, spanned the moat and rested its farther
+end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the
+ground.
+
+"Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy," said the
+outlaw, "till all be in, an' if there be any signs of
+treachery stick him through the gizzard--death thus
+be slower and more painful."
+
+So saying Norman of Torn crept boldly across the
+improvised bridge, and disappeared within the window
+beyond.  One by one the band of cut-throats passed
+through the little window, until all stood within the
+castle beside their chief; Shandy coming last with the
+servant.
+
+"Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My
+Lord sups," said Norman of Torn.  "You, Shandy, place
+your men where they can prevent my being inter-
+rupted."
+
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came an-
+other figure stealthily across the ladder, and as Norman
+of Torn and his followers left the little room this figure
+pushed quietly through the window and followed the
+great outlaw down the unlighted corridor.
+
+A moment later My Lady of Leybourn looked up
+from her plate upon the grim figure of an armored
+knight standing in the doorway of the great dining hall.
+
+"My Lord Earl!" she cried.  "Look! behind you."
+
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him
+he overturned the bench upon which he sat, in his
+effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earl of Buckingham
+had a guilty conscience.
+
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the
+Earl drew his sword.
+
+"A moment, My Lord," said a low voice in perfect
+French.
+
+"Who are you?" cried the lady.
+
+"I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me
+tell you a little story.
+
+"In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a
+great lord of England held by force the beautiful
+daughter of a noble house, and, when she spurned his
+advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her
+fair face, and with his brute hands choked her.  And in
+that castle also was a despised and hunted outlaw, with
+a price upon his head, for whose neck the hempen
+noose has been yawning these many years.  And it was
+this vile person who came in time to save the young
+woman from the noble flower of knighthood that would
+have ruined her young life.
+
+"The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many
+men-at-arms came to the noble's rescue, and so the
+outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest he be over-
+come by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the
+hands of her tormentor.
+
+"But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely
+rescuing the girl, he must needs mete out justice to her
+noble abductor and collect in full the toll of blood
+which alone can atone for the insult and violence done
+her.
+
+"My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the
+noble was My Lord the Earl of Buckingham; and the
+outlaw stands before you to fulfill the duty he has
+sworn to do.  En garde, My Lord!"
+
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had
+come to kill, and he had been looking through a haze
+of blood for hours--in fact every time he had thought
+of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de
+Tany and of the cruel blow that had fallen upon her
+face.
+
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly
+into a corner of the room, and when he had him there
+where he could escape in no direction, he drove his
+blade so deep through his putrid heart that the point
+buried itself an inch in the oak panel beyond.
+
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight
+she was witnessing, and, as Norman of Torn wrenched
+his blade from the dead body before him and wiped it
+on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascina-
+tion while he drew his dagger and made a mark upon
+the forehead of the dead nobleman.
+
+"Outlaw or Devil," said a stern voice behind them,
+"Roger Leybourn owes you his friendship for saving the
+honor of his home."
+
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in
+the doorway where Norman of Torn had first appeared.
+
+"Roger!" shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+
+"Who be you?" continued the master of Leybourn
+addressing the outlaw.
+
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead
+of the dead Earl of Buckingham, and there Roger
+Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"I owe you much, you have saved my poor, silly
+wife from this beast, and Joan de Tany is my cousin,
+so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman of Torn."
+
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+
+"You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be
+paid by a good supper; I have eaten but once in forty-
+eight hours."
+
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling
+them to remain on watch, but to interfere with no one
+within the castle.
+
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and
+his lady, who had recovered from her swoon, and be-
+hind them on the rushes of the floor lay the body of
+De Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm
+was at his home, and had hastened back; having been
+in hiding about the castle for half an hour before the
+arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity
+to enter unobserved by the servants.  It was he who
+had followed across the ladder after Shandy.
+
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger
+Leybourn; for the first time within his memory a wel-
+comed guest under his true name at the house of a
+gentleman.
+
+The following morning he bade his host goodbye,
+and returning to his camp started on his homeward
+march toward Torn.
+
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames
+near the environs of London, they saw a great con-
+course of people hooting and jeering at a small party of
+gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force
+of numbers were waxing brave to lay violent hands
+upon the party.  Mud and rocks and rotten vegetables
+were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of
+them barely missing the women of the party.
+
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but
+spurring into the thick of it laid right and left of him
+with the flat of his sword, and his men, catching the
+contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole
+pack of attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he
+had rescued, he continued on his march toward the
+north.
+
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in won-
+der after the retreating figures of their deliverers.  Then
+one of the ladies turned to a knight at her side with a
+word of command and an imperious gesture toward
+the fast disappearing company.  He thus addressed put
+spurs to his horse, and rode at a rapid gallop after the
+outlaw's troop.  In a few moments he had overtaken
+them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.  
+
+"Hold, Sir Knight," cried the gentleman, "the Queen
+would thank you in person for your brave defence of
+her."
+
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman
+of Torn wheeled his horse and rode back with the
+Queen's messenger.
+
+As he faced Her Majesty the Outlaw of Torn bent
+low over his pommel.
+
+"You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on
+saving a queen's life that you ride on without turning
+your head, as though you had but driven a pack of curs
+from annoying a stray cat," said the Queen.
+
+"I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty,
+not in the service of a queen."
+
+"What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we
+all witnessed? The King, my husband, shall reward
+thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me your name."
+
+"If I told my name methinks the King would be
+more apt to hang me," laughed the outlaw.  "I be Nor-
+man of Torn."
+
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment
+upon him, for none of them had ever seen this bold
+raider whom all the nobility and gentry of England
+feared and hated.
+
+"For lesser acts than that which thou hast just per-
+formed, the King has pardoned men before," replied Her
+Majesty.  "But raise your visor, I would look upon the
+face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a gentle-
+man and a loyal protector of his queen."
+
+"They who have looked upon my face, other than
+my friends," replied Norman of Torn quietly, "have
+never lived to tell what they saw beneath this visor;
+and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the
+year to fear it might mean unhappiness to you to see
+the visor of the Devil of Torn lifted from his face."
+Without another word he wheeled and galloped back
+to his little army.
+
+"The puppy, the insolent puppy," cried Eleanor of
+England, in a rage.
+
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and
+parted after a period of twenty years.
+
+
+Two days later Norman of Torn directed Red Shan-
+dy to lead the forces of Torn from their Essex camp
+back to Derby.  The numerous raiding parties which
+had been constantly upon the road during the days
+they had spent in this rich district had loaded the extra
+sumpter beasts with rich and valuable booty and the
+men, for the time satiated with fighting and loot,
+turned their faces toward Torn with evident satisfac-
+tion.
+
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council;
+at his side the old man of Torn.
+
+"Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you
+by tomorrow morning.  I but ride for a moment to the
+castle of De Tany on an errand, and as I shall stop
+there but a few moments I shall surely join you to-
+morrow."
+
+"Do not forget, My Lord," said Edwild the Serf,
+a great yellow-haired Saxon giant, "that there be a
+party of the King's troops camped close by the road
+which branches to Tany."
+
+"I shall give them plenty of room," replied Norman of
+Torn.  "My neck itcheth not to be stretched," and he
+laughed and mounted.
+
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road
+from camp, Spizo the Spaniard, sneaking his horse un-
+seen into the surrounding forest, mounted and spurred
+rapidly after him.  The camp, in the throes of packing
+refractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling
+their own wild mounts, did not notice his departure.  
+Only the little grim, gray, old man knew that he had
+gone, or why, or whither.
+
+That afternoon as Roger de Conde was admitted to
+the castle of Richard de Tany, and escorted to a little
+room where he awaited the coming of the Lady Joan,
+a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of
+the King's soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany.
+
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned
+and spurred back in the direction from which he had
+come.
+
+And this was what he read:
+
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, with-
+out escort.
+
+Instantly the call "to arms" and "mount" sounded
+through the camp; and in five minutes a hundred mer-
+cenaries galloped rapidly toward the castle of Richard
+de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great reward
+and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty
+outlaw who was now almost within his clutches.
+
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along
+which the King's soldiers were now riding; one from
+the west which had guided Norman of Torn from his
+camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest
+through Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes Nor-
+man of Torn waited composedly in the anteroom for
+Joan de Tany.
+
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house
+garment of the period; a beautiful vision, made more
+beautiful by the suppressed excitement which caused
+the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her cheek, and
+her breasts to rise and fall above her fast beating heart.
+
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to
+his lips, and then they stood looking into each other's
+eyes in silence for a long moment.
+
+"I do not know how to tell you what I have come
+to tell," he said sadly.  "I have not meant to deceive
+you to your harm, but the temptation to be with you
+and those whom you typify must be my excuse.  I--"
+He paused.  It was easy to tell her that he was the Out-
+law of Torn, but if she loved him, as he feared, how
+was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort?
+
+"You need tell me nothing," interrupted Joan de
+Tany.  "I have guessed what you would tell me, Nor-
+man of Torn.  'The spell of moonlight and adventure is
+no longer upon us'--those are your own words, and
+still I am glad to call you friend."
+
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word be-
+spoke the finality of her decision that the Outlaw of
+Torn could be no more than friend to her.
+
+"It is best," he replied, relieved that, as he thought,
+she felt no love for him now that she knew him for
+what he really was.  "Nothing good could come to such
+as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim more of
+you than friendship; and so I think that for your peace
+of mind and for my own we will let it be as though you
+had never known me.  I thank you that you have not
+been angry with me.  Remember me only to think that
+in the hills of Derby a sword is at your service, without
+reward and without price.  Should you ever need it,
+Joan, tell me that you will send for me--wilt promise
+me that, Joan?"
+
+"I promise, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Farewell," he said, and as he again kissed her hand
+he bent his knee to the ground in reverence.  Then he
+rose to go, pressing a little packet into her palm.  Their
+eyes met, and the man saw in that brief instant deep in
+the azure depths of the girl's that which tumbled the
+structure of his new-found complacency about his ears.
+
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road
+which led northwest toward Derby, Norman of Torn
+bowed his head in sorrow, for he realized two things.  
+One was that the girl he had left still loved him, and
+that some day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer be-
+cause she had sent him away; and the other was that
+he did not love her, that his heart was locked in the
+fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his lone-
+liness and the aching sorrow of his starved, empty heart
+to lead him into this girl's life.  That he had been new
+to women and newer still to love did not permit him to
+excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly
+and stupidity, and what he thought was fickleness.
+
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for
+certain: to know without question what love was, and
+that the memory of Bertrade de Montfort's lips would
+always be more to him than all the allurements possessed
+by the balance of the women of the world, no matter
+how charming, or how beautiful.
+
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it,
+too, that the attitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an
+old and noble house, was but the attitude which the Out-
+law of Torn must expect from any good woman of her
+class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Mont-
+fort when she learned that Roger de Conde was Nor-
+man of Torn.
+
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the
+road to Derby ere the girl, who still stood in an em-
+brasure of the south tower, gazing with strangely
+drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him,
+saw a body of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany
+from the south.
+
+The King's banner waved above their heads, and in-
+tuitively Joan de Tany knew for whom they sought at
+her father's castle.  Quickly she hastened to the outer
+barbican that it might be she who answered their hail
+rather than one of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer
+gate ere the King's men drew rein before the castle.
+
+In reply to their hail Joan de Tany asked their mis-
+sion.
+
+"We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides
+now within this castle," replied the officer.
+
+"There be no outlaw here," replied the girl, "but, if
+you wish, you may enter with half a dozen men and
+search the castle."
+
+This the officer did and when he had assured him-
+self that Norman of Torn was not within an hour had
+passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain that the Outlaw
+of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King's
+men; so she said:
+
+"There was one here just before you came who called
+himself though by another name than Norman of Torn,
+possibly it is he ye seek."
+
+"Which way rode he?" cried the officer.
+
+"Straight toward the west by the middle road," lied
+Joan de Tany.  And as the officer hurried from the castle
+and, with his men at his back, galloped furiously away
+toward the west, the girl sank down upon a bench,
+pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn
+had handed her, and within found two others.  In one of
+these was a beautiful jeweled locket, and on the out-
+side were the initials JT, and on the inside the initials
+NT; in the other was a golden hair ornament set with
+precious stones, and about it was wound a strand of
+her own silken tresses.
+
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, press-
+ing them against her lips, she threw herself face down
+upon an oaken bench, her lithe young form racked with
+sobs.
+
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inex-
+orable bonds of caste to a false ideal.  Birth and station
+spelled honor to her, and honor, to the daughter of an
+English noble, was a mightier force even than love.
+
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have
+forgiven, but that he was, according to report, a low
+fellow of no birth placed an impassable barrier between
+them.
+
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst
+within her raged the mighty battle of the  heart  against
+the head.
+
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her,
+and with her arms about the girl's neck, tried to soothe
+her and to learn the cause of her sorrow.  Finally it
+came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing heart;
+that wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not
+even a mother's love could check.
+
+"Joan, my dear daughter," cried Lady de Tany, "I
+sorrow with thee that thy love has been cast upon so
+bleak and impossible a shore.  But it be better that thou
+hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take my
+word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an al-
+liance must needs have brought upon thee and thy
+father's house would soon have cooled thy love; nor
+could his have survived the sneers and affronts even
+the menials would have put upon him."
+
+"Oh, mother, but I love him so," moaned the girl.  
+"I did not know how much until he had gone, and the
+King's officer had come to search for him, and then the
+thought that all the power of a great throne and the
+mightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in
+hatred against him raised the hot blood of anger
+within me and the knowledge of my love surged through
+all my being.  Mother, thou canst not know the honor,
+and the bravery, and the chivalry of the man as I do.  
+Not since Arthur of Silures kept his round table hath
+ridden forth upon English soil so true a knight as Nor-
+man of Torn.
+
+"Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother,
+and witnessed the honor of his treatment of thy daugh-
+ter, and heard the tone of dignified respect in which he
+spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too, and
+felt that outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentle-
+man than nine-tenths the nobles of England."
+
+"But his birth, my daughter!" argued the Lady de
+Tany.  "Some even say that the gall marks of his brass
+collar still showeth upon his neck, and others that he
+knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor
+had he any mother."
+
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught
+could the girl say to justify so heinous a crime as low
+birth.  What a man did in those rough cruel days might
+be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother or
+his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter
+howsoever wickedly attained, he might never overcome
+or live down.
+
+Torn by conflicting emotions the poor girl dragged
+herself to her own apartment and there upon a restless,
+sleepless couch, beset by wild, impossible hopes, and
+vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long, bitter
+night; until toward morning she solved the problem
+of her misery in the only way that seemed possible to
+her poor, tired, bleeding, little heart.  When the rising
+sun shone through the narrow window it found Joan de
+Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden
+hilt of the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded
+from her breast, and a thin line of crimson ran across
+the snowy skin to a little pool upon the sheet beneath
+her.
+
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had
+reached out to crush another innocent victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+WHEN word of the death of Joan de Tany reached
+Torn no man could tell from outward appearance the
+depth of the suffering which the sad intelligence wrought
+on the master of Torn.
+
+All that they who followed him knew was that cer-
+tain unusual orders were issued, and that that same
+night the ten companies rode south toward Essex without
+other halt than for necessary food and water for man and
+beast.
+
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her
+father's castle to the church at Colchester, and again as
+it was brought back to its final resting place in the
+castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silent knights,
+black draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly
+behind the bier.
+
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the fun-
+eral, and as silently they slipped away northward into
+the falling shadows of the following night.
+
+No word had passed between those of the castle and
+the great troop of sable-clad warriors, but all within
+knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn had come to pay
+homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany,
+and all but the grieving mother wondered at the strange-
+ness of the act.
+
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby strong-
+hold their young leader turned the command over to
+Red Shandy and dismounted at the door of Father
+Claude's cottage.
+
+"I am tired, Father," said the outlaw as he threw
+himself upon his accustomed bench.  "Naught but sor-
+row and death follow in my footsteps.  I and all my
+acts be accurst, and upon those I love the blight fall-
+eth."
+
+"Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be
+too late.  Seek out a new and better life in another
+country and carve thy future into the semblance of
+glory and honor."
+
+"Would that I might, my friend," answered Norman
+of Torn.  "But hast thou thought on the consequences
+which surely would follow should I thus remove both
+heart and head from the thing that I have built?
+
+"What suppose thou would result were Norman of
+Torn to turn his great band of cut-throats, leaderless,
+upon England? Hast thought on't, Father?
+
+"Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if
+thou knew Edwild the Serf were ranging unchecked
+through Derby? Edwild, whose father was torn limb
+from limb upon the rack because he would not confess
+to killing a buck in the new forest, a buck which fell
+before the arrow of another man; Edwild, whose mother
+was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church.
+
+"And Horsan the Dane, Father.  How thinkest thou
+the safety of the roads would be for either rich or poor
+an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon ye?
+
+"And Pensilo the Spanish Don! A great captain, but
+a man absolutely without bowels of compassion.  When
+first he joined us and saw our mark upon the foreheads
+of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked
+the living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron,
+branding a great P upon each cheek and burning out the
+right eye completely.  Wouldst like to feel, Father, that
+Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged free through
+forest and hill of England?
+
+"And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter
+the Hermit, and One Eye Kanty, and Gropello, and
+Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the thou-
+sand others, each with a special hatred for some particu-
+lar class or individual, and all filled with the lust of
+blood and rapine and loot.
+
+"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I
+have been taught to hate I have learned to love, and I
+have it not in my heart to turn loose upon her fair
+breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order
+or decency other than that which I enforce."
+
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking the priest sat
+silent for many minutes.
+
+"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son,"
+he said at last.  "Thou canst not well go unless thou
+takest thy horde with thee out of England, but even
+that may be possible; who knows other than God?"
+
+"For my part" laughed the outlaw, "I be willing to
+leave it in His hands; which seems to be the way with
+Christians.  When one would shirk a responsibility, or
+explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the Lord."
+
+"I fear, my son," said the priest, "that what seed
+of reverence I have attempted to plant within thy
+breast hath borne poor fruit."
+
+"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I
+take not the Lord into partnership in my successes it
+seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poor spirit to
+saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him.  I may be
+wrong, for I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my
+conception of God and scapegoat be not that they are
+synonymous."
+
+"Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argu-
+ment between friends," replied the priest, "and fur-
+ther, there be that nearer my heart just now which
+I would ask thee.  I may offend, but thou know I do
+not mean to.  The question I would ask, is, dost
+wholly trust the old man whom thou call father?"
+
+"I know of no treachery," replied the outlaw, "which
+he hath ever conceived against me.  Why?"
+
+"I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort
+asking him to meet me and two others here upon an
+important matter.  I have learned that he expects to be
+at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week.  
+He is to notify me when he will come and I shall
+then send for thee and the old man of Torn; but it
+were as well, my son, that thou do not mention this
+matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou
+come hither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be
+present."
+
+"As you say, Father," replied Norman of Torn.  "I do
+not make head nor tail of thy wondrous intrigues, but
+that thou wish it done thus or so is sufficient.  I must
+be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell."
+
+Until the following spring Norman of Torn con-
+tinued to occupy himself with occasional pillages against
+the royalists of the surrounding counties, and his pa-
+trols so covered the public highways that it became a
+matter of grievous import to the King's party, for no one
+was safe in the district who even so much as sym-
+pathized with the King's cause, and many were the
+dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil
+of Torn.
+
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of
+the barons, it now seemed a matter of little doubt but
+that, in any crisis, his grisly banner would be found on
+their side.
+
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn
+were often spent in rough, wild carousals in the great
+hall where a thousand men might sit at table singing,
+fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in
+through the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the
+fierce majordomo, tired of the din and racket came
+stalking into the chamber with drawn sword and laid
+upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce the
+authority of his commands to  disperse.
+
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in
+these wild orgies, but when  minstrel, or troubadour, or
+storyteller wandered to his grim lair the Outlaw of
+Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter's dull
+monotony to as late an hour as another; nor could any
+man of his great fierce horde outdrink their chief when
+he cared to indulge in the pleasures of the wine cup.  
+The only effect that liquor seemed to have upon him
+was to increase his desire to fight, so that he was wont
+to pick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for
+the slightest, or for no provocation at all.  So, for this
+reason, he drank but seldom since he always regretted
+the things he did under the promptings of that other
+self which only could assert its ego when reason was
+threatened with submersion.
+
+Often on these evenings the company was enter-
+tained by stories from the wild, roving lives of its
+own members.  Tales of adventure, love, war and death
+in every known corner of the world; and the ten cap-
+tains told, each, his story of how he came to be of
+Torn; and thus, with fighting enough by day to keep
+them good humored, the winter passed, and spring
+came with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life,
+with soft zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.
+
+Through all the winter Father Claude had been ex-
+pecting to hear from Simon de Montfort but not until
+now did he receive a message which told the good
+priest that his letter had missed the great baron and had
+followed him around until he had but just received it.  
+The message closed with these words:
+
+
+"Any clew however vague which might lead nearer
+to a true knowledge of the fate of Prince Richard we
+shall most gladly receive and give our best attention.
+Therefore if thou wilst find it convenient we shall
+visit thee, good father, on the fifth day from today."
+
+
+Spizo the Spaniard had seen De Montfort's man leave
+the note with Father Claude and he had seen the
+priest hide it under a great bowl on his table, so that
+when the good father left his cottage it was the matter
+of but a moment's work for Spizo to transfer the mes-
+sage from its hiding place to the breast of his tunic.  
+The fellow could not read, but he to whom he took
+the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin in
+which it was penned.
+
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed
+rage as the full purport of this letter flashed upon him.  
+It had been years since he had heard aught of the
+search for the little lost prince of England, and now that
+the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now
+that more and more often opportunities were opening
+up to him to wreak the last shred of his terrible ven-
+geance, the very thought of being thwarted at the
+final moment staggered his comprehension.
+
+"On the fifth day," he repeated.  "That is the day on
+which we were to ride south again.  Well, we shall
+ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not talk with thee,
+thou fool priest."
+
+That same spring evening in the year 1264 a messen-
+ger drew rein before the walls of Torn and, to the
+challenge of the watch, cried:
+
+"A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty,
+Henry, by the grace of God, King of England, Lord of
+Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of Torn, Open,
+in the name of the King!"
+
+Norman of Torn directed that the King's messenger
+be admitted, and the knight was quickly ushered into
+the great hall of the castle.
+
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with
+visor lowered.
+
+The bearing of the King's officer was haughty and
+arrogant, as became a man of birth when dealing with
+a low born knave.
+
+"His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah,"
+he said, withdrawing a parchment from his breast.  
+"And as you doubtless cannot read I will read the
+King's commands to you."
+
+"I can read," replied Norman of Torn, "whatever
+the King can write.  Unless it be," he added, "that the
+King writes no better than he rules."
+
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+
+"It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus
+disrespectfully of our gracious King.  If he were less
+generous he would have sent you a halter rather than
+this message which I bear."
+
+"A bridle for thy tongue, my friend," replied Nor-
+man of Torn, "were in better taste than a halter for
+my neck.  But come, let us see what the King writes to
+his friend, the Outlaw of Torn."
+
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of
+Torn read:
+
+
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of
+Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine; to Norman of Torn:
+
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be
+harassing and plundering the persons and property of
+our faithful lieges--
+
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us
+by Almighty God do command that you cease these
+nefarious practices--
+
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her
+Majesty, Queen Eleanor, we do offer you full pardon
+for all your past crimes--
+
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes,
+with all the fighting men, your followers, prepared to
+protect the security of our person, and wage war upon
+those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert
+de Clare and their accomplices, who even now are
+collected to threaten and menace our person and king-
+dom--
+
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for
+your long unpunished crimes.  Witnessed myself, at
+Lewes, on May the third, in the forty-eighth year of
+our reign.
+
+HENRY, REX.
+
+
+"The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded,"
+said Norman of Torn, "for because of it shall the King's
+messenger eat the King's message; and thus take
+back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn."
+And crumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced
+toward the royal emissary.
+
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of
+Torn was even quicker, so that it seemed that the
+King's messenger had deliberately hurled his weapon
+across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him.
+
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck
+with one powerful hand, and, despite his struggles, and
+the beating of his mailed fists, bent him back upon the
+table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the point
+of his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King's mes-
+sage down the knight's throat; wax, parchment and
+all.
+
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from
+the castle of Torn a half hour later and spurred rapidly
+his head a more civil tongue.
+
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King
+at Winchelsea and reported the outcome of his mis-
+sion Henry raged and stormed, swearing by all the saints
+in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for
+his effrontery before the snow flew again.
+
+News of the fighting between the barons and the
+King's forces at Rochester, Battel and elsewhere reached
+the ears of Norman of Torn a few days after the com-
+ing of the King's message, but at the same time came
+other news which hastened his departure toward the
+south.  This latter word was that Bertrade de Montfort
+and her mother, accompanied by Prince Philip, had
+landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come
+Peter of Colfax back to England.  The latter doubtless
+reassured by the strong conviction, which held in the
+minds of all royalists at that time, of the certainty of
+victory for the royal arms in the impending conflict
+with the rebel barons.
+
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see
+Bertrade de Montfort once again, and clear his conscience
+by a frank avowal of his identity.  He knew what the
+result must be; his experience with Joan de Tany had
+taught him that.  But the fine sense of chivalry which
+ever dominated all his acts where the happiness or honor
+of women were concerned urged him to give himself
+over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman's pride,
+that it might be she who spurned and rejected; for,
+as it must appear now, it had been he whose love had
+grown cold.  It was a bitter thing to contemplate, for not
+alone would the mighty pride of the man be lacerated,
+but a great love.
+
+Two days before the start of the march Spizo the
+Spaniard reported to the old man of Torn that he had
+overheard Father Claude ask Norman of Torn to come
+with his father to the priest's cottage the morning of
+the march to meet Simon de Montfort upon an impor-
+tant matter, but what the nature of the thing was the
+priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old
+man more than aught he had heard in several days; for
+it made it apparent that the priest had not as yet
+divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlaw of
+Torn.
+
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the
+march south, a little, wiry figure, grim and gray, en-
+tered the cottage of Father Claude.  No man knows what
+words passed between the good priest and his visitor
+nor the details of what befell within the four walls of
+the little cottage that night; but some half hour only
+elapsed before the little, grim, gray man emerged from
+the darkened interior and hastened upward upon the
+rocky trail into the hills, a cold smile of satisfaction
+on his lips.
+
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and
+rattle of preparation early the following morning, for
+by eight o'clock the column was to march.  The court-
+yard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys.  War
+horses were being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter
+beasts, snubbed to great posts, were being laden with
+the tents, bedding, and belongings of the men; while
+those already packed were wandering loose among the
+other animals and men.  There was squealing, biting,
+kicking, and cursing as animals fouled one another
+with their loads, or brushed against some tethered war
+horse.
+
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding
+their masters to don armor, lacing helm to hauberk,
+tying the points of ailette, coude, and rondel; buckling
+cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg.  The open forges
+of armorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din
+of hammer on anvil rose above the thousand lesser noises
+of the castle courts, the shouting of commands, the rat-
+tle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stone flags,
+as these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing,
+through the eleventh hour repairs to armor, lance and
+sword, or to reset a shoe upon a refractory, plunging
+beast.
+
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and
+with them some semblance of order and quiet out of
+chaos and bedlam.  First the sumpter beasts, all loaded
+now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs
+below the castle and there held to await the column.  
+Then, one by one, the companies were formed and
+marched out beneath fluttering pennon and waving
+banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
+
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of
+destruction which hurled two hundred pound bowlders
+with mighty force against the walls of beleaguered
+castles.
+
+And after all had passed through the great gates
+Norman of Torn and the little old man walked side
+by side from the castle building and mounted their
+chargers held by two squires in the center of the court-
+yard.
+
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in
+marching order, and as the two rode out to join it the
+little old man turned to Norman of Torn, saying,
+
+"I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my
+son.  Father Claude sent word last evening that he had
+been called suddenly south, and that some appoint-
+ment you had with him must therefore be deferred un-
+til later; he said that you would understand." The old
+man eyed his companion narrowly through the eye
+slit in his helm.
+
+"'Tis passing strange," said Norman of Torn but that
+was his only comment.  And so they joined the column
+which moved slowly down toward the valley and as
+they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of
+Torn saw that the door was closed and that there
+was no sign of life about the place.  A wave of melan-
+choly passed over him, for the deserted aspect of the
+little flower hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic
+of a near future without the beaming, jovial face of his
+friend and adviser.
+
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight
+down the east edge of the valley ere a party of richly
+dressed knights, coming from the south by another
+road along the west bank of the river, crossed over
+and drew rein before the cottage of Father Claude.
+
+As their hails were unanswered one of the party
+dismounted to enter the building.
+
+"Have a care, My Lord," cried his companion.  "This
+be over close to the Castle Torn and there may easily
+be more treachery than truth in the message which
+called thee thither."
+
+"Fear not," replied Simon de Montfort, "the Devil
+of Torn hath no quarrel with me." Striding up the little
+path he knocked loudly on the door.  Receiving no
+reply he pushed it open and stepped into the dim light
+of the interior.  There he found his host, the good father
+Claude, stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast
+of his priestly robes dark with dried and clotted
+blood.
+
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned
+a couple of his companions.
+
+"The secret of the little lost prince of England be
+a dangerous burden for a man to carry," he said.  
+"But this convinces me more than any words the priest
+might have uttered that the abductor be still in Eng-
+land, and possibly Prince Richard also."
+
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had
+been ransacked thoroughly by the assassin.  The con-
+tents of drawer and box littered every room, though
+that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced
+by many pieces of jewelry and money which remained
+untouched.
+
+"The true object lies here," said De Montfort, point-
+ing to the open hearth upon which lay the charred re-
+mains of many papers and documents.  "All written evi-
+dence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here
+beneath the table?" and, stooping, the Earl of Lei-
+cester picked up a sheet of parchment on which a
+letter had been commenced.  It was addressed to him,
+and he read it aloud:
+
+
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the ac-
+complishment of our meeting, My Lord Earl, I send
+thee this by one who knoweth not either its contents or
+the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+
+He who bareth this letter I truly, believe to be the
+lost Prince Richard.  Question him closely, My Lord, and
+I know that thou wilt be as positive as I.
+
+Of his past thou know nearly as much as I, though
+thou may not know the wondrous chivalry and true
+nobility of character of him men call--
+
+
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the
+dagger of the assassin.
+
+"Mon Dieu!  The damnable luck!" cried De Mont-
+fort, "but a second more and the name we have sought
+for twenty years would have been writ.  Didst ever see
+such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend
+incarnate since that long gone day when his sword
+pierced the heart of Lady Maud by the postern gate
+beside the Thames? The Devil himself must watch
+o'er him.
+
+"There be naught more we can do here," he con-
+tinued.  "I should have been on my way to Fletching
+hours since.  Come, my gentlemen, we will ride south
+by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there
+look to the decent burial of this holy man."
+
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away.  Noon
+found them at Leicester, and three days later they
+rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+
+At almost the same hour the monks of the Abbey of
+Leicester performed the last rites of Holy Church for
+the peace of the soul of Father Claude and consigned
+his clay to the churchyard.
+
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable
+hate and vengeance which bad been born in the King's
+armory twenty years before passed from the eyes of
+men.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+WHILE Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting
+men marched slowly south on the road toward Dover,
+the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing for its
+advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son
+Prince Edward, and his brother, Prince Richard, King
+of the Romans, together with the latter's son, were
+entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand strong.
+
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264,
+the barons' army set out from its camp at Fletching,
+nine miles from Lewes, and, marching through dense
+forests, reached a point two miles from the city, un-
+observed.
+
+From here they ascended the great ridge of the hills
+up the valley Combe, the projecting shoulder of the
+Downs covering their march from the town.  The King's
+party, however, had no suspicion that an attack was
+imminent, and, in direct contrast to the methods of
+the baronial troops, had spent the preceding night
+in drunken revelry, so that they were quite taken by
+surprise.
+
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon
+the summit of the hill in advance of Lewes, but so lax
+was discipline in his army that the soldiers, growing
+tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward
+morning, and returned to town, leaving but a single man
+on watch.  He, left alone, had promptly fallen asleep;
+and thus De Montfort's men found and captured him
+within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes,
+where the King and his royal allies lay peacefully
+asleep, after their night of wine and dancing and song.
+
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell,
+the baronial army would doubtless have reached the
+city without being detected, but it happened that the
+evening before Henry had ordered a foraging party
+to ride forth at daybreak, as provisions for both men
+and beasts were low.
+
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere
+they fell into the hands of the baronial troops.  Though
+some few were killed or captured those who escaped
+were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of the
+royalists to the close proximity and gravity of their
+danger.
+
+By this time the four divisions of De Montfort's army
+were in full view of the town.  On the left were the
+Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave; in the center
+rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William de
+Monchensy, at the head of a large division which oc-
+cupied that branch of the hill which descended a gen-
+tle, unbroken slope to the town.  The right wing was
+commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son of
+Simon de Montfort, and with him was the third son,
+Guy, as well as John de Burgh and Humphrey de Bo-
+hun.  The reserves were under Simon de Montfort him-
+self.
+
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against
+the King and his party, which included many nobles
+whose kinsmen were with De Montfort; so that brother
+faced brother, and father fought against son, on that
+bloody Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes.
+
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to
+take the field, and as he issued from the castle with
+his gallant company, banners and pennons streaming
+in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade
+scintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gor-
+geous and impressive spectacle as he hurled himself
+upon the Londoners, whom he had selected for at-
+tack because of the affront they had put upon his
+mother that day at London on the preceding July.
+
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed
+and unprotected burghers, unused to the stern game of
+war, fell like sheep before the iron men on their iron
+shod horses.  The long lances, the heavy maces, the six-
+bladed battle axes, and the well tempered swords of
+the knights played havoc among them, so that the rout
+was complete; but, not content with victory, Prince
+Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he pursued
+the citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of
+them, while many more were drowned in attempting to
+escape across the Ouse.
+
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King
+of the Romans and his gallant son, was not so fortunate
+for they met a determined resistance at the hands of
+Henry de Montfort.
+
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well
+matched also, and thus the battle continued through-
+out the day, the greatest advantage appearing to lie
+with the King's troops.  Had Edward not gone so far
+afield in pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might
+easily have been on the side of the royalists early in
+the day, but by thus eliminating his division after de-
+feating a part of De Montfort's army, it was as though
+neither of these two forces had been engaged.
+
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little
+ruse which centered the fighting for a time upon the
+crest of one of the hills.  He had caused his car to be
+placed there, with the tents and luggage of many of
+his leaders, under a small guard, so that the banners
+there displayed, together with the car, led the King of
+the Romans to believe that the Earl himself lay there,
+for Simon de Montfort had but a month or so before
+suffered an injury to his hip, when his horse fell with
+him, and the royalists were not aware that he had re-
+covered sufficiently to again mount a horse.
+
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the
+Romans pushed back the men of Henry de Montfort,
+and ever and ever closer to the car came the royalists
+until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults
+against the old Earl and commanding him to come
+forth.  And when they had killed the occupants of the
+car they found that Simon de Montfort was not among
+them, but instead he had fastened there three im-
+portant citizens of London, old men and influential,
+who had opposed him, and aided and abetted the King.
+
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of
+the Romans, that he fell upon the baronial troops
+with renewed vigor, and slowly but steadily beat them
+back from the town.
+
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy's
+left wing by Prince Edward, so cheered and inspired
+the royalists that the two remaining divisions took up
+the attack with refreshed spirits so that what a moment
+before had hung in the balance now seemed an as-
+sured victory for King Henry.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown them-
+selves into the melee with all their reserves; no longer
+was there semblance of organization.  Division was in-
+extricably bemingled with division; friend and foe
+formed a jumbled confusion of fighting, cursing chaos,
+over which whipped the angry pennons and banners
+of England's noblest houses.
+
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes
+indicated that the King's arms were winning toward
+victory, and so it might have been had not a new
+element been infused into the battle; for now upon
+the brow of the hill to the north of them appeared a
+great horde of armored knights, and as they came into
+position where they could view the battle the leader
+raised his sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand
+broke into a mad charge.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as
+they gazed upon this body of fresh, well armored, well
+mounted reinforcements.  Whom might they be? To
+which side owned they allegiance? And, then, as the
+black falcon wing on the banners of the advancing
+horsemen became distinguishable, they saw that it was
+the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been
+any doubt before, the wild battle cry which rang from
+a thousand fierce throats turned the hopes of the
+royalists cold within their breasts.
+
+"For De Montfort! For De Montfort!" and "Down
+with Henry!" rang loud and clear above the din of
+battle.
+
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the bar-
+est chance that the King himself escaped capture, and
+regained the temporary safety of Lewes.
+
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old
+mill, and here it was that Norman of Torn found him
+barricaded.  When the door was broken down the out-
+law entered and dragged the monarch forth with his
+own hand to the feet of De Montfort, and would have
+put him to death had not the Earl intervened.
+
+"I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a
+King," said Norman of Torn, "and the temptation be
+great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl, his life shall
+be yours to do with as you see fit."
+
+"You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn,"
+replied De Montfort.  "Verily do I believe we owe
+our victory to you alone; so do not mar the record of
+a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity."
+
+"It is but what they had done to me, were I the
+prisoner instead," retorted the outlaw.
+
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for
+it was but the simple truth.
+
+"How comes it, Norman of Torn," asked De Montfort
+as they rode together toward Lewes, "that you threw
+the weight of your sword upon the side of the barons?
+Be it because you hate the King more?"
+
+"I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl,"
+replied the outlaw.  "I have been taught since birth
+to hate you all, but why I should hate was never told
+me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to
+my maturer years.
+
+"As for why I fought as I did today," he continued,
+"it be because the heart of Lady Bertrade your daughter
+be upon your side.  Had it been with the King, her
+uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than he
+has this day.  So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me
+no gratitude.  Tomorrow I may be pillaging your friends
+as of yore."
+
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the
+blank wall of his lowered visor gave no sign of the
+thoughts that passed beneath.
+
+"You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn,"
+said the Earl coldly, "and I doubt me not but that my
+daughter has already forgot you.  An English noble-
+woman, preparing to become a princess of France,
+does not have much thought to waste upon highway-
+men." His tone, as well as his words were studiously
+arrogant and insulting, for it had stung the pride of
+this haughty noble to think that a low-born knave
+boasted the friendship of his daughter.
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl
+of Leicester have seen his face he had been surprised
+to note that instead of grim hatred and resentment,
+the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in
+lines of pain and sorrow; for he read in the attitude
+of the father what he might expect to receive at the
+hands of the daughter.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+WHEN those of the royalists who had not deserted
+the King and fled precipitately toward the coast had
+regained the castle and the Priory the city was turned
+over to looting and rapine.  In this Norman of Torn
+and his men did not participate, but camped a little
+apart from the town until daybreak the following morn-
+ing, when they started east, toward Dover.
+
+They marched until late the following evening, pass-
+ing some twenty miles out of their way to visit a cer-
+tain royalist stronghold.  The troops stationed there had
+fled, having been appraised some few hours earlier,
+by fugitives, of the defeat of Henry's army at Lewes.
+
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he
+sought, but, finding it entirely deserted, continued his
+eastward march.  Some few miles farther on he over-
+took a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and from
+them he easily, by dint of threats, elicited the informa-
+tion he desired: the direction taken by the refugees
+from the deserted castle, their number, and as close a
+description of the party as the soldiers could give.
+
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his
+march, this time heading northward into Kent.  It was
+dark before he reached his destination, and saw before
+him the familiar outlines of the castle of Roger de Ley-
+bourn.  This time the outlaw threw his fierce horde
+completely around the embattled pile, before he ad-
+vanced with a score of sturdy ruffians to reconnoiter.
+
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and
+that he could not hope for stealthy entrance there, he
+crept silently to the rear of the great building, and
+there among the bushes his men searched for the lad-
+der that Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant
+of My Lady Claudia unearth, that the outlaw might
+visit the Earl of Buckingham, unannounced.
+
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but
+a moment to raise it to the sill of the low window, so
+that soon the twenty stood beside their chief within
+the walls of Leybourn.
+
+Noiselessly they moved through the halls and corri-
+dors of the castle until a maid, bearing a great pasty
+from the kitchen, turned a sudden corner and bumped
+full into the Outlaw of Torn.  With a shriek that might
+have been heard at Lewes she dropped the dish upon
+the stone floor, and, turning, ran, still shrieking at
+the top of her lungs, straight for the great dining hall.
+
+So close behind her came the little band of out-
+laws that scarce had the guests arisen in consternation
+from the table at the shrill cries of the girl than Norman
+of Torn burst through the great door with twenty
+drawn swords at his back.
+
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen
+and house servants and men-at-arms.  Fifty swords
+flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of the party
+saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a
+blow could be struck Norman of Torn, grasping his sword
+in his right hand, raised his left aloft in a gesture for
+silence.
+
+"Hold!" he cried, and, turning directly to Roger
+de Leybourn, "I have no quarrel with thee, My Lord; but
+again I come for a guest within thy halls.  Methinks
+thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as
+didst thy fair lady."
+
+"Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the
+peace of my castle, and makes bold to insult my guests?"
+demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+
+"Who be I! If you wait you shall see my mark upon
+the forehead of yon grinning baboon," replied the out-
+law, pointing a mailed finger at one who had been
+seated close to De Leybourn.
+
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger
+of the outlaw indicated, and there indeed was a fear-
+ful apparition of a man.  With livid face he stood, lean-
+ing for support against the table; his craven knees
+wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were
+drawn apart against his yellow teeth in a horrid grim-
+ace of awful fear.
+
+"If you recognize me not, Sir Roger," said Norman
+of Torn, drily, "it is evident that your honored guest
+hath a better memory."
+
+At last the fear struck man found his tongue, and,
+though his eyes never left the menacing figure of the
+grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed the master of
+Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe emasculated fal-
+setto:
+
+"Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him!
+Do you wish to live another moment draw and de-
+fend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, and
+there be a great price upon his head.
+
+"Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me,"
+he ended in a pitiful wail.
+
+The Devil of Torn!  How that name froze the hearts
+of the assembled guests.
+
+The Devil of Torn!  Slowly the men standing there
+at the board of Sir Roger de Leybourn grasped the full
+purport of that awful name.
+
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the
+stillness of a sepulchre, and then a woman shrieked,
+and fell prone across the table.  She had seen the
+mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her
+mate.
+
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+
+"Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered
+within the walls of Leybourn, and then you did, in the
+service of another, a great service for the house of
+Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest.  
+But a moment since you said that you had no quarrel
+with me.  Then why be you here? Speak! Shall it be
+as a friend or an enemy that the master of Leybourn
+greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched
+hand or naked sword?"
+
+"I come for this man whom you may all see has
+good reason to fear me.  And when I go I take part
+of him with me.  I be in a great hurry, so I would pre-
+fer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Col-
+fax, without interference; but, if you wish it otherwise;
+we be a score strong within your walls, and nigh a
+thousand lie without.  What say you, My Lord?"
+
+"Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a
+mighty one, that you search him out thus within a day's
+ride from the army of the King who has placed a
+price upon your head, and from another army of men
+who be equally your enemies."
+
+"I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax,"
+replied the outlaw.  "What my grievance be matters
+not.  Norman of Torn acts first and explains afterward,
+if he cares to explain at all.  Come forth, Peter of Col-
+fax, and for once in your life, fight like a man, that
+you may save your friends here from the fate that has
+found you at last after two years of patient waiting."
+
+Slowly the palsied limbs of the great coward bore
+him tottering to the center of the room, where gradually
+a little clear space had been made; the men of the
+party forming a circle, in the center of which stood
+Peter of Colfax and Norman of Torn.
+
+"Give him a great draught of brandy," said the out-
+law, "or he will sink down and choke in the froth
+of his own terror."
+
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid
+upon him, Peter of Colfax regained his lost nerve
+enough so that he could raise his sword arm and de-
+fend himself; and as the fumes circulated through him,
+and the primal instinct of self-preservation asserted it-
+self, he put up a more and more creditable fight, until
+those who watched thought that he might indeed have
+a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn.  But they did
+not know that Norman of Torn was but playing with
+his victim, that he might make the torture long drawn
+out, and wreak as terrible a punishment upon Peter of
+Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron had visited
+upon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield
+to his base desires.
+
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every
+detail of the fascinating drama that was being enacted
+before them.
+
+"God, what a swordsman!" muttered one.
+
+"Never was such sword play seen since the day the
+first sword was drawn from the first scabbard!" replied
+Roger de Leybourn.  "Is it not marvellous!"
+
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter
+of Colfax to pieces; little by little, and with such
+fiendish care that except for loss of blood, the man was
+in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch his
+victim's face with his gleaming sword; that he was
+saving for the fulfillment of his design.
+
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his
+life, was no marrowless antagonist, even against the
+Devil of Torn.  Furiously he fought; in the extremity
+of his fear rushing upon his executioner with frenzied
+agony.  Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid
+brow.
+
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn
+flashed, lightning-like, in his victim's face, and above
+the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a thin vertical cut
+from which the red blood had barely started to ooze
+ere another swift move of that master sword hand
+placed a fellow to parallel the first.
+
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of
+Peter of Colfax, until the watchers saw there, upon 
+the brow of the doomed man, the seal of death, in let-
+ters of blood--NT.
+
+It was the end.  Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet
+fighting like the maniac he had become, was as good
+as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw of Torn was
+upon his brow.  Now, shrieking and gibbering through
+his frothy lips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and
+horrid grin, he rushed full upon Norman of Torn.  There
+was a flash of the great sword as the outlaw swung it
+to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that
+passed above the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the
+grinning head rolled upon the floor, while the loath-
+some carcass, that had been a baron of England, sunk
+in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the great
+hall of the castle of Leybourn.
+
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests.  
+Some one broke into hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed,
+and then Norman of Torn, wiping his blade upon the
+rushes of the floor as he had done upon another oc-
+casion in that same hall, spoke quietly to the master
+of Leybourn.
+
+"I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord.  It
+shall be returned, or a mightier one in its stead."
+
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn
+turned, with a few words of instructions, to one of his
+men.
+
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Col-
+fax, and placed it upon the golden platter.
+
+"I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality," said
+Norman of Torn, with a low bow which included the
+spellbound guests.  "Adieu." Thus followed by his men,
+one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the platter
+of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall
+and from the castle.
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+BOTH horses and men were fairly exhausted from the
+gruelling strain of many days of marching and fight-
+ing, so Norman of Torn went into camp that night; nor
+did he again take up his march until the second morn-
+ing, three days after the battle of Lewes.
+
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leices-
+ter's castle, where he had reason to believe he would
+find a certain young woman, and though it galled his
+sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay wait-
+ing his coming, he could not do less than that which
+he felt his honor demanded.
+
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant,
+Shandy, and the wiry, gray little man of Torn, whom
+the outlaw called father.
+
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-
+surfaced skin, had the old fellow changed in all these
+years.  Without bodily vices, and clinging ever to the
+open air and the exercise of the foil he was still
+young in muscle and endurance.
+
+For five years he had not crossed foils with Norman
+of Torn, but he constantly practiced with the best
+swordsmen of the wild horde, so that it had become
+a subject often discussed among the men as to which
+of the two, father or son, was the greater swordsman.
+
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual
+silence.  Long since had Norman of Torn usurped by
+the force of his strong character and masterful ways,
+the position of authority in the castle of Torn.  The old
+man simply rode and fought with the others when it
+pleased him; and he had come on this trip because he
+felt that there was that impending for which he had
+waited over twenty years.
+
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the
+man he still called "my son." If he held any sentiment
+toward Norman of Torn it was one of pride which
+began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his
+pupil's mighty sword arm.
+
+The little army had been marching for some hours
+when the advance guard halted a party bound south
+upon a crossroad.  There were some twenty or thirty
+men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed
+knights.
+
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them he saw
+that the leader of the party was a very handsome man
+of about his own age, and evidently a person of dis-
+tinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+
+"Who are you," said the gentleman, in French, "that
+stops a prince of France upon the highroad as though
+he were an escaped criminal? Are you of the King's
+forces, or De Montfort's?"
+
+"Be this Prince Philip of France?" asked Norman of
+Torn.
+
+"Yes, but who be you?"
+
+"And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de
+Montfort?" continued the outlaw, ignoring the Prince's
+question.
+
+"Yes, an it be any of your affair," replied Philip
+curtly.
+
+"It be," said the Devil of Torn, "for I be a friend
+of My Lady Bertrade, and as the way be beset with
+dangers from disorganized bands of roving soldiery, it
+is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with so
+small an escort.  Therefore will the friend of Lady
+Bertrade de Montfort ride with Monsieur le Prince
+to his destination that Monsieur may arrive there safe-
+ly."
+
+"It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will
+not forget.  But, again, who is it that shows this solici-
+tude for Philip of France?"
+
+"Norman of Torn, they call me," replied the outlaw.
+
+"Indeed!" cried Philip.  "The great and bloody out-
+law?" Upon his handsome face there was no look of
+fear or repugnance.
+
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+
+"Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will
+make a bad name for himself," he said, "if he rides
+in such company?"
+
+"My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be
+less devil than saint," said the Prince.  "They have told
+me of how you saved the daughter of De Montfort, and,
+ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you,
+and to thank you.  It had been my intention to ride to
+Torn for that purpose so soon as we reached Leicester,
+but the Earl changed all our plans by his victory; and
+only yesterday, on his orders the Princess Eleanor, his
+wife, with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where
+Simon de Montfort and the King are to be today.  The
+Queen also is there with her retinue, so it be expected
+that, to show the good feeling and renewed friendship
+existing between De Montfort and his King, there will
+be gay scenes in the old fortress.  But," he added, after
+a pause, "dare the Outlaw of Torn ride within reach of
+the King who has placed a price upon his head?"
+
+"The price has been there since I was eighteen,"
+answered Norman of Torn, "and yet my head be
+where it has always been.  Can you blame me if I look
+with levity upon the King's price? It be not heavy
+enough to weigh me down; nor never has it held me
+from going where I listed in all England.  I am freer
+than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisoner
+today."
+
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked,
+Norman of Torn grew to like this brave and handsome
+gentleman.  In his heart was no rancor because of the
+coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French
+prince, then Norman of Torn was his friend; for his
+love was a great love, above jealousy.  It not only held
+her happiness above his own, but the happiness and
+welfare of the man she loved, as well.
+
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman
+of Torn bid the prince adieu, for the horde was to make
+camp just without the city, he said:
+
+"May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady
+Bertrade? It is in reference to a promise I made her
+two years since and which I now, for the first time, be
+able to fulfill."
+
+"Certainly, my friend," replied Philip.  The outlaw,
+dismounting, called upon one of his squires for parch-
+ment, and, by the light of a torch, wrote a message
+to Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Half an hour later a servant in the castle of Battel
+handed the missive to the daughter of Leicester as she
+sat alone in her apartment.  Opening it, she read:
+
+
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend
+Norman of Torn.
+
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of
+the Outlaw of Torn in friendship, and now he comes to
+sue for another favor.
+
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the
+castle of Battel this night.
+
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with
+terror to others, I know that you do not fear him, for
+you must know the loyalty and friendship which he
+bears you.
+
+My camp lies without the city's gates, and your mes-
+senger will have safe conduct whatever reply he bears
+to,
+
+Norman of Torn.
+
+
+Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she
+thought of that moment of terrible terror two years
+ago when she learned, in the castle of Peter of Colfax,
+that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devil
+of Torn.  And then she recalled his little acts of thought-
+ful chivalry, nay, almost tenderness, on the long night
+ride to Leicester.
+
+What a strange contradiction of a man! She won-
+dered if he would come with lowered visor, for she
+was still curious to see the face that lay behind the
+cold, steel mask.  She would ask him this night to let
+her see his face; or would that be cruel? For did they
+not say that it was from the very ugliness of it that he
+kept his helm closed to hide the repulsive sight from
+the eyes of men!
+
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting
+with him two years before, she wrote and dispatched
+her reply to Norman of Torn.
+
+In the great hall that night as the King's party sat
+at supper, Philip of France, addressing Henry, said:
+
+"And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my
+side to Battel today, that I might not be set upon by
+knaves upon the highway?"
+
+"Some of our good friends from Kent?" asked the
+King.
+
+"Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty
+has placed a price, Norman of Torn; and if all of your
+English highwaymen be as courteous and pleasant
+gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and un-
+armed through your realm that I may add to my list
+of pleasant acquaintances."
+
+"The Devil of Torn?" asked Henry, incredulously.  
+"Some one be hoaxing you."
+
+"Nay, Your Majesty, I think not," replied Philip, "for
+he was indeed a grim and mighty man, and at his back
+rode as ferocious and awe-inspiring a pack as ever I
+beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong they
+rode.  They be camped not far without the city now."
+
+"My Lord," said Henry, turning to Simon de Mont-
+fort, "be it not time that England were rid of this
+devil's spawn and his hellish brood? Though I pre-
+sume," he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, "that it
+may prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester
+to turn upon his companion in arms."
+
+"I owe him nothing," returned the Earl haughtily,
+"by his own word."
+
+"You owe him victory at Lewes," snapped the King.  
+"It were indeed a sad commentary upon the sincerity
+of our loyalty professing lieges who turned their arms
+against our royal person, 'to save him from the treachery
+of his false advisers,' that they called upon a cutthroat
+outlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in
+their 'righteous cause'."
+
+"My Lord King," cried De Montfort, flushing with
+anger, "I called not upon this fellow, nor did I know
+he was within two hundred miles of Lewes until I
+saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day.  
+Neither did I know, until I heard his battle cry,
+whether he would fall upon baron or royalist."
+
+"If that be the truth, Leicester," said the King, with
+a note of skepticism which he made studiously apparent,
+"hang the dog.  He be just without the city even now."
+
+"You be King of England, My Lord Henry.  If you
+say that he shall be hanged, hanged he shall be," re-
+plied De Montfort.
+
+"A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon
+him, it only remains to catch him, Leicester," said the
+King.
+
+"A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,"
+replied De Montfort.
+
+"And not," thought Philip of France, "if I know it,
+shall the brave Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow."
+
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of
+Torn paced back and forth waiting an answer to his
+message.
+
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the
+bivouac, for the outlaw knew full well that he had put
+his head within the lion's jaw when he had ridden thus
+boldly to the seat of English power.  He had no faith
+in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well
+what the King would urge when he learned that the
+man who had sent his soldiers naked back to London,
+who had forced his messenger to eat the King's message,
+and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes,
+was within reach of the army of De Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool,
+and so he did not relish pitting his thousand upon an
+open plain against twenty thousand within a walled
+fortress.
+
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night
+and before dawn his rough band would be far on the
+road toward Torn.  The risk was great to enter the
+castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies.  But if
+he died there it would be in a good cause, thought he;
+and, anyway, he had set himself to do this duty which
+he dreaded so, and do it he would were all the armies
+of the world camped within Battel.
+
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his
+sentries, who presently appeared escorting a lackey.
+
+"A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort," said
+the soldier.
+
+"Bring him hither," commanded the outlaw.
+
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn
+a dainty parchment sealed with scented wax wafers.
+
+"Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?"
+asked the outlaw.
+
+"I am to wait, My Lord," replied the awestruck
+fellow, to whom the service had been much the same
+had his mistress ordered him to Hell to bear a message
+to the Devil.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and,
+breaking the seals, read the message from the woman
+he loved.  It was short and simple.
+
+
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade
+de Montfort.
+
+Come with Giles.  He has my instructions to lead thee
+secretly to where I be.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains
+squatted upon the ground beside an object covered
+with a cloth.
+
+"Come, Flory," he said, and then, turning to the
+waiting Giles, "lead on."
+
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then
+Norman of Torn and last the fellow whom he had
+addressed as Flory bearing the object covered with a
+cloth.  But it was not Flory who brought up the rear.  
+Flory lay dead in the shadow of a great oak within
+the camp; a thin wound below his left shoulder blade
+marked the spot where a keen dagger had found its
+way to his heart, and in his place walked the little grim,
+gray, old man, bearing the object covered with a cloth.  
+But none might know the difference, for the little man
+wore the armor of Flory, and his visor was drawn.
+
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the
+castle wall where the shadow of a great tower made
+the blackness of a black night doubly black.  Through
+many dim corridors the lackey led them, and up wind-
+ing stairways until presently he stopped before a low
+door.
+
+"Here," he said, "My Lord," and turning left them.
+
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed
+knuckles of his right hand, and a low voice from within
+whispered, "Enter."
+
+Silently he strode into the apartment, a small ante-
+chamber off a large hall.  At one end was an open
+hearth upon which logs were burning brightly, while
+a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the
+austere chamber.  In the center of the room was a table,
+and at the sides several benches.
+
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she
+was alone.
+
+"Place your burden upon this table, Flory," said Nor-
+man of Torn.  And when it had been done: "You may
+go. Return to camp."
+
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the
+door had closed behind the little grim, gray man who
+wore the armor of the dead Flory and then Norman
+of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left
+hand ungauntleted, resting upon the table's edge.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade," he said at last, "I have come
+to fulfill a promise."
+
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his
+voice.  Before, Norman of Torn had always spoken in
+English.  Where had she heard that voice! There were
+tones in it that haunted her.
+
+"What promise did Norman of Torn e'er make to
+Bertrade de Montfort?" she asked.  "I do not understand
+you, my friend."
+
+"Look," he said.  And as she approached the table
+he withdrew the cloth which covered the object that
+the man had placed there.
+
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for
+there upon a golden platter was a man's head; horrid
+with the grin of death baring yellow fangs.
+
+"Dost recognize the thing?" asked the outlaw.  And
+then she did; but still she could not comprehend.  At
+last, slowly, there came back to her the idle, jesting
+promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her
+enemy to the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that!
+It was all a sore puzzle to her, and then she saw the
+bared left hand of the grim, visored figure of the Devil
+of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside the
+grisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger
+was the great ring she had tossed to Roger de Conde
+on that day, two years before.
+
+What strange freak was her brain playing her! It
+could not be, no it was impossible; then her glance fell
+again upon the head grinning there upon the platter
+of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw in letters
+of dried blood that awful symbol of sudden death-NT!
+
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the out-
+law's hand, and then up to his visored helm.  A step
+she took toward him, one hand upon her breast, the
+other stretched pointing toward his face, and she
+swayed slightly as might one who has just arisen from
+a great illness.
+
+"Your visor," she whispered, "raise your visor." And
+then, as though to herself: "It cannot be; it cannot
+be."
+
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him,
+did as she bid, and there before her she saw the brave
+strong face of Roger de Conde.
+
+"Mon Dieu!" she cried, "Tell me it is but a cruel
+joke."
+
+"It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade," said Nor-
+man of Torn sadly.  And, then, as she turned away
+from him, burying her face in her raised arms, he came
+to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder,
+said sadly:
+
+"And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow
+you to France.  My heart went there with you, but I
+knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation could
+come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that
+love was returned; and so I waited until you might
+forget the words you had spoken to Roger de Conde
+before I came to fulfill the promise that you should
+know him in his true colors.
+
+"It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come
+this night.  God knows that it be no pleasant thing to
+see the loathing in your very attitude, and to read the
+hate and revulsion that surges through your heart, or
+to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind
+against me because I allowed you to speak the words
+you once spoke, and to the Devil of Torn.
+
+"I make no excuse for my weakness.  I ask no for-
+giveness for what I know you never can forgive.  That,
+when you think of me, it will always be with loathing
+and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+
+"I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know
+that I love you, and with a love that surpasseth even
+my own understanding.
+
+"Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship.  
+Take it.  The hand that wore it has done no wrong by
+the light that has been given it as guide.
+
+"The blood that has pulsed through the finger that
+it circled came from a heart that beat for Bertrade de
+Montfort; a heart that shall continue to beat for her
+alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in
+a wasted and useless life.
+
+"Farewell, Bertrade." Kneeling he raised the hem of
+her garment to his lips.
+
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the
+heart of this proud daughter of the new conqueror of
+England.  The anger of an outraged confidence, grati-
+tude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor,
+hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kins-
+men, respect and honor for the marvellous courage of
+the man, loathing and contempt for the base born, the
+memory of that exalted moment when those handsome
+lips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a
+champion who dared come alone among twenty thou-
+sand enemies for the sake of a promise made her; but
+stronger than all the rest two stood out before her
+mind's eye like living things--the degradation of his
+low birth, and the memory of the great love she had
+cherished all these long and dreary months.
+
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl's
+breast.  In those few brief moments of bewilderment
+and indecision it seemed to Bertrade de Montfort that
+ten years passed above her head, and when she reached
+her final resolution she was no longer a young girl but
+a grown woman who, with the weight of a mature
+deliberation, had chosen the path which she would
+travel to the end--to the final goal, however sweet or
+however bitter.
+
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed
+head at her feet, and, taking the hand that held the
+ring outstretched toward her, raised him to his feet.  In
+silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger,
+and then she lifted her eyes to his.
+
+"Keep the ring, Norman of Torn," she said.  "The
+friendship of Bertrade de Montfort is not lightly given
+nor lightly taken away," she hesitated, "nor is her love."
+
+"What do you mean?" he whispered.  For in her eyes
+was that wondrous light he had seen there on that
+other day in the far castle of Leicester.
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that, Roger de Conde or
+Norman of Torn, gentleman or highwayman, it be all
+the same to Bertrade de Montfort--it be thee I love;
+thee!"
+
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not
+have been surprised, for he had expected the worst;
+but that she should love him! Oh God, had his over
+wrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dream-
+ing this thing, only to awaken to the cold and awful
+truth!
+
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet per-
+fume of the breath that fanned his cheek; these were
+no dream!
+
+"Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade?" he
+cried.  "Dost forget that I be a low born knave, knowing
+not my own mother and questioning even the identity
+of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world
+with such a man for husband?"
+
+"I know what I say, perfectly," she answered.  "Were
+thou born out of wedlock, the son of a hostler and a
+scullery maid, still would I love thee, and honor thee,
+and cleave to thee.  Where thou be, Norman of Torn,
+there shall be happiness for me.  Thy friends shall be
+my friends; thy joys shall be my joys; thy sorrows,
+my sorrows; and thy enemies, even mine own father,
+shall be my enemies.
+
+"Why it is, my Norman, I know not.  Only do I know
+that I didst often question my own self if in truth
+I did really love Roger de Conde, but thee--oh Nor-
+man, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now,
+that this heart, this soul, this body be all and always
+for the Outlaw of Torn?"
+
+"I do not know," he said simply and gravely.  "So
+wonderful a thing be beyond my poor brain; but I
+think my heart knows, for in very joy it is sending the
+hot blood racing and surging through my being till I
+were like to be consumed for the very heat of my
+happiness."
+
+"Sh!" she whispered, suddenly, "methinks I hear foot-
+steps.  They must not find thee here, Norman of Torn,
+for the King has only this night wrung a promise
+from my father to take thee in the morning and hang
+thee.  What shall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet
+again?"
+
+"We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long
+as it may take thee to gather a few trinkets, and fetch
+thy riding cloak.  Thou ridest north tonight with Nor-
+man of Torn, and by the third day Father Claude shall
+make us one."
+
+"I am glad thee wish it," she replied.  "I feared that,
+for some reason, thee might not think it best for me
+to go with thee now.  Wait here, I will be gone but a
+moment.  If the footsteps I hear approach this door,"
+and she indicated the door by which he had entered
+the little room, "thou canst step through this other door-
+way into the adjoining apartment, and conceal thyself
+there until the danger passes."
+
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no
+stomach for hiding himself away from danger.
+
+"For my sake," she pleaded.  So he promised to do
+as she bid, and she ran swiftly from the room to fetch
+her belongings.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+WHEN the little, grim, gray man had set the object
+covered with a cloth upon the table in the center of
+the room and left the apartment, he did not return
+to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+
+Instead he halted immediately without the little door,
+which he left a trifle ajar, and there he waited, listen-
+ing to all that passed between Bertrade de Montfort
+and Norman of Torn.
+
+As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Mont-
+fort declare her love for the Devil of Torn a cruel smile
+curled his lip.
+
+"It will be better than I had hoped," he muttered,
+and easier.  'S blood! How much easier now that Lei-
+cester too may have his whole proud heart in the hang-
+ing of Norman of Torn.  Ah, what a sublime revenge! I
+have waited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow
+thou struck that day, but the return shall be an hundred
+fold increased by long accumulated interest."
+
+Quickly the wiry figure hastened through the pas-
+sageways and corridors, until he came to the great hall
+where sat De Montfort and the King, with Philip of
+France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+
+Before the guard at the door could halt him he had
+broken into the room, and, addressing the King, cried:
+
+"Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He
+be now alone where a few men may seize him."
+
+"What now! What now!" ejaculated Henry.  "What
+madman be this?"
+
+"I be no madman, Your Majesty; never did brain
+work more clearly or to more certain ends," replied
+the man.
+
+"It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat
+himself," cried De Montfort.
+
+"Where be the knave?" asked Henry.
+
+"He stands now within this palace and in his arms
+be Bertrade, daughter of My Lord Earl of Leicester.  
+Even now she did but tell him that she loved him."
+
+"Hold," cried De Montfort.  "Hold fast thy foul
+tongue.  What meanest thou by uttering such lies, and
+to my very face?"
+
+"They be no lies, Simon de Montfort.  An I tell thee
+that Roger de Conde and Norman of Torn be one
+and the same thou wilt know that I speak no lie."
+
+De Montfort paled.
+
+"Where be the craven wretch?" he demanded.
+
+"Come," said the little, old man.  And turning he led
+from the hall, closely followed by De Montfort, the
+King, Prince Philip and the others.
+
+"Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men--thou'lt
+need them all to take Norman of Torn," he advised
+De Montfort.  And so as they passed the guard room
+the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Nor-
+man of Torn heard the tramping of many feet.  They
+seemed approaching up the dim corridor that led to
+the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+
+Quickly he moved to the opposite door, and, stand-
+ing with his hand upon the latch, waited.  Yes, they
+were coming that way, many of them and quickly; and
+as he heard them pause without he drew aside the arras
+and pushed open the door behind him; backing into
+the other apartment just as Simon de Montfort, Earl of
+Leicester, burst into the room from the opposite side.
+
+At the same instant a scream rang out behind Norman
+of Torn, and, turning, he faced a brightly lighted room
+in which sat Eleanor, Queen of England, and another
+Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their ladies.
+
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he
+would not, even had there been where to run.  Slowly
+he backed away from the door toward a corner, where
+with his back against a wall and a table at his right,
+he might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of
+Torn knew that he could hope for no quarter from the
+men who had him cornered there like a great bear in
+a trap.
+
+With an army at their call it were an easy thing to
+take a lone man, even though that man were the Devil
+of Torn.
+
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the
+smaller apartment and were within the room where
+the outlaw stood at bay.
+
+At the far side the group of royal and noble women
+stood huddled together, while behind De Montfort and
+the King pushed twenty gentlemen and as many men-
+at-arms.
+
+"What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?" cried De
+Montfort, angrily. "Where be my daughter, Bertrade?"
+
+"I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own
+affairs," replied Norman of Torn, "which be the affair
+of no other man.  As to your daughter: I know nothing
+of her whereabouts.  What should she have to do with
+the Devil of Torn, My Lord?"
+
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+
+"He lies," shouted he.  "Her kisses be yet wet upon
+his lips."
+
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker, and beneath
+the visor that was now partly raised he saw the features
+of the man whom, for twenty years, he had called
+father.
+
+He had never expected love from this hard old man,
+but treachery and harm from him--no, he could not
+believe it, one of them must have gone mad; but why
+Flory's armor, where was the faithful Flory?
+
+"Father!" he ejaculated, "leadest thou the hated
+English King against thine own son?"
+
+"Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn," retorted
+the old man.  "Thy days of usefulness to me be past;
+tonight thou serve me best swinging from a wooden
+gibbet.  Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a
+good strong gibbet in the courtyard below."
+
+"Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?" cried De Mont-
+fort.
+
+"Yes," was the reply, "when this floor be ankle deep
+in English blood and my heart has ceased to beat; then
+will I surrender."
+
+"Come, come," cried the King.  "Let your men take
+the dog, De Montfort!"
+
+"Have at him, then," ordered the Earl, turning toward
+the waiting men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly
+anxious to advance upon the doomed outlaw.
+
+But an officer of the guard set them the example,
+and so they pushed forward in a body toward Norman
+of Torn; twenty blades bared against one.
+
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn; it
+was grim battle and his only hope that he might take
+a fearful toll of his enemies before he himself went
+down.
+
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill
+as many and as quickly as he might.  And to those who
+watched it was as though the young officer of the
+Guard had not come within reach of that terrible blade
+ere he lay dead upon the floor, and then the point of
+death passed into the lungs of one of the men-at-arms,
+scarcely pausing ere it pierced the heart of a third.
+
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the
+frightful havoc of that mighty arm.  Before De Mont-
+fort could urge them on to renew the attack a girlish
+figure clothed in a long riding cloak burst through the
+little knot of men as they stood facing their lone an-
+tagonist.
+
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation
+Bertrade de Montfort threw herself before the Devil of
+Torn, and facing the astonished company of king, prince,
+nobles and soldiers drew herself to her full height, and
+with all the pride of race and blood that was her right
+of heritage from a French king on her father's side and
+an English king on her mother's, she flashed her
+defiance and contempt in the single word:
+
+"Cowards!"
+
+"What means this, girl?" demanded De Montfort,
+"Art gone stark mad? Know thou that this fellow be
+the Outlaw of Torn?"
+
+"If I had not before known it, My Lord," she replied
+haughtily, "it would be plain to me now as I see forty
+cowards hesitating to attack a lone man.  What other
+man in all England could stand thus against forty? A
+lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet."
+
+"Enough, girl," cried the King, "what be this knave
+to thee?"
+
+"He loves me, Your Majesty," she replied proudly,
+and I, him."
+
+"Thou lov'st this low born cut-throat, Bertrade," cried
+Henry.  "Thou, a De Montfort, the daughter of my
+sister; who have seen this murderer's accursed mark
+upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him
+flaunt his defiance in the King's, thy uncle's, face, and
+bend his whole life to preying upon thy people; thou
+lov'st this monster?"
+
+"I love him, My Lord King."
+
+"Thou lov'st him, Bertrade?" asked Philip of France
+in a low tone, pressing nearer to the girl.
+
+"Yes, Philip," she said, a little note of sadness and
+finality in her voice; but her eyes met his squarely and
+bravely.
+
+Instantly the sword of the young Prince leaped from
+its scabbard, and facing De Montfort and the others
+he backed to the side of Norman of Torn.
+
+"That she loves him be enough for me to know, my
+gentlemen," he said.  "Who takes the man Bertrade de
+Montfort loves must take Philip of France as well."
+
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other's
+shoulder.
+
+"No, thou must not do this thing, my friend," he
+said.  "It be my fight and I will fight it alone.  Go, I
+beg of thee, and take her with thee, out of harm's way."
+
+As they argued Simon de Montfort and the King had
+spoken together, and at a word from the former the
+soldiers rushed suddenly to the attack again.  It was a
+cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two could
+not fight with the girl between them and their ad-
+versaries.  And thus, by weight of numbers, they took
+Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince away from Nor-
+man of Torn without a blow being struck, and then
+the little, grim, gray, old man stepped forward.
+
+"There be but one sword in all England, nay in all
+the world that can, alone, take Norman of Torn," he
+said, addressing the King, "and that sword be mine;
+keep thy cattle back, out of my way." And, without
+waiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to
+engage him whom for twenty years he had called son.
+
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his
+new-found enemy, and there, in the apartment of the
+Queen of England in the castle of Battel, was fought
+such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor
+is it credible that its like was ever fought before or
+since.
+
+The world's two greatest swordsmen: teacher and
+pupil--the one with the strength of a young bull, the
+other with the cunning of an old gray fox; and both
+with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust
+of blood and hate before them--thrust and parried and
+cut until those that gazed awestricken upon the mar-
+vellous sword play scarcely breathed in the tensity of
+their wonder.
+
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while
+those who had come to kill pressed back to make room
+for the contestants.  Now was the young man forcing
+his older foeman more and more upon the defensive.  
+Slowly, but as sure as death, he was winning ever nearer
+and nearer to victory.  The old man saw it too.  He had
+devoted years of his life to training that mighty sword
+arm that it might deal out death to others, and now;
+ah! the grim justice of the retribution, he at last was
+to fall before its diabolical cunning.
+
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of
+Torn; that the wily Frenchman saw; but now that
+death was so close upon him that he felt its cold breath
+condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and
+so he cast about for any means whereby he might es-
+cape the result of his rash venture.
+
+Presently he saw his opportunity.  Norman of Torn
+stood beside the body of one of his earlier antagonists.  
+Slowly the old man worked around until the body lay
+directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final rally
+and one great last burst of supreme swordsmanship,
+he rushed Norman of Torn back for a bare step--it
+was enough; the outlaw's foot struck the prostrate
+corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant his sword
+arm rose, ever so little, as he strove to retain his equili-
+brium; but that little was enough, it was what the
+gray old snake had expected, and he was ready.  Like
+lightning his sword shot through the opening, and, for
+the first time in his life of continual combat and death,
+Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh.  But ere
+he fell his sword responded to the last fierce command
+of that iron will, and as his body sank limply to the
+floor, rolling with outstretched arms, upon its back,
+the little, grim, gray man went down also, clutching
+frantically at a gleaming blade buried in his chest.
+
+For an instant the watchers stood as though petrified,
+and then Bertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from
+the restraining hand of her father, rushed to the side
+of the lifeless body of the man she loved.  Kneeling
+there beside him she called his name aloud, as she
+unlaced his helm.  Tearing the steel headgear from him
+she caressed his face, kissing the white forehead and
+the still lips.
+
+"Oh God! Oh God!" she murmured.  "Why hast thou
+taken him? Outlaw though he was, in his little finger
+was more of honor, of chivalry, of true manhood than
+courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+
+"I do not wonder that he preyed upon you," she
+cried, turning upon the knights behind her.  "His life
+was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyal to his friends
+and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all;
+and ever be ye trampling upon those who be down that
+they may sink deeper into the mud.  Mon Dieu!  How
+I hate you," she finished.  And as she spoke the words
+Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of
+her father.
+
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a
+brave, broad, kindly man, and he regretted what he
+had done in the haste and heat of anger.
+
+"Come, child," said the King, "thou art distraught;
+thou sayest what thou mean not.  The world is better
+that this man be dead.  He was an enemy of organized
+society, he preyed ever upon his fellows.  Life in Eng-
+land will be safer after this day.  Do not weep over
+the clay of a nameless adventurer who knew not his
+own father."
+
+Some one had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man
+to a sitting posture.  He was not dead.  Occasionally he
+coughed, and when he did his frame was racked with
+suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils.
+
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak.  Weakly
+he motioned toward the King.  Henry came toward
+him.
+
+"Thou hast won thy sovereign's gratitude, my man,"
+said the King, kindly.  "What be thy name?"
+
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought
+on another paroxysm of coughing.  At last he managed
+to whisper.
+
+"Look--at--me.  Dost thou--not--remember me? The
+--foils--the--blow-twenty-long-years.  Thou--spat--upon
+--me."
+
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+
+"De Vac!" he exclaimed.
+
+The old man nodded.  Then he pointed to where lay
+Norman of Torn.
+
+"Outlaw--highwayman--scourge--of--England.
+Look--upon--his--face.  Open--his tunic--left--breast."
+
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another
+moment, with a final effort: "De--Vac's--revenge.  God--
+damn--the--English," and slipped forward upon the
+rushes, dead.
+
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the
+Queen.  They stood looking into each other's eyes with
+a strange fixity, for what seemed an eternity, before
+any dared to move; and then, as though they feared
+what they should see, they bent over the form of the
+Outlaw of Torn for the first time.
+
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet
+face turned up to hers.
+
+"Edward!" she whispered.
+
+"Not Edward, Madame," said De Montfort, "but--"
+
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast
+of which lay the unconscious body of Bertrade de Mont-
+fort.  Gently he lifted her to the waiting arms of Philip
+of France, and then the King with his own hands tore
+off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped
+wide the tunic where it covered the left breast of the
+Devil of Torn.
+
+"Oh God!" he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she
+sank beside the body of her second born, crying out:
+
+"Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!" And as she bent
+still lower to kiss the lily mark upon the left breast of
+the son she had not seen to know for over twenty years,
+she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her ear
+to his breast.
+
+"He lives!" she almost shrieked.  "Quick, Henry, our
+son lives!"
+
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness al-
+most before Philip of France had raised her from the
+floor, and she stood now, leaning on his arm, watching
+with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being
+enacted at her feet.
+
+Slowly the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with re-
+turning consciousness.  Before him, on her knees in the
+blood spattered rushes of the floor, knelt Eleanor,
+Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his
+hands.
+
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild
+delirium, thought the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining posi-
+tion, resting against one who knelt behind him, and as
+he lifted his head to see whom it might be supporting
+him he looked into the eyes of the King, upon whose
+breast his head rested.
+
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must
+have been a very terrible wound that the little old man
+of Torn had given him; but why could he not dream
+that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyes
+wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and
+soldiers standing uncovered and with bowed heads
+about him.  Presently he found her.
+
+"Bertrade!" he whispered.
+
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the
+Queen.
+
+"Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least
+be no dream."
+
+"I be very real, dear heart," she answered, "and these
+others be real, also.  When thou art stronger, thou shalt
+understand the strange thing that has happened.  These
+who wert thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy best
+friends now--that thou should know, so that thou may
+rest in peace until thou be better."
+
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his
+eyes with a faint sigh.
+
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the
+Queen's, and all that night the mother and the prom-
+ised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing his fevered
+forehead.  The King's chirurgeon was there also, while
+the King and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in
+the days of Moses, or in the days that be ours; the
+lamb that has been lost and is found again be always
+the best beloved.
+
+Toward morning Norman of Torn fell into a quiet
+and natural sleep; the fever and delirium had suc-
+cumbed before his perfect health and iron constitution.  
+The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de
+Montfort.
+
+"You had best retire, ladies," he said, "and rest; the
+Prince will live."
+
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of
+persuasion or commands on the part of the King's
+chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+
+"I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince," urged
+the chirurgeon.
+
+"Why call thou me prince?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"There be one without whose right it be to explain
+that to thee," replied the chirurgeon, "and when thou
+be clothed, if rise thou wilt, thou mayst see her, My
+Lord."
+
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress, and, opening the
+door, he spoke to a sentry who stood just without.  The
+sentry transmitted the message to a young squire who
+was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown
+open again from without, and a voice announced:
+
+"Her Majesty, the Queen!"
+
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise,
+and then there came back to him the scene in the
+Queen's apartment the night before.  It was all a sore
+perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he
+attempt to.
+
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of Eng-
+land coming toward him across the small room, her
+arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant with hap-
+piness and love.
+
+"Richard, my son!" exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him
+and taking his face in her hands and kissing him.
+
+"Madame!" exclaimed the surprised man.  "Be all the
+world gone crazy?"
+
+And then she told him the strange story of the little
+lost prince of England.
+
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking
+her hand in his and raising it to his lips.
+
+"I did not know, Madame," he said, "or never would
+my sword have been bared in other service than thine.  
+If thou canst forgive me, Madame, never can I forgive
+myself."
+
+"Take it not so hard, my son," said Eleanor of Eng-
+land, "it be no fault of thine, and there be nothing to
+forgive; only happiness and rejoicing should we feel,
+now that thou be found again."
+
+"Forgiveness!" said a man's voice behind them.  "For-
+sooth, it be we that should ask forgiveness; hunting
+down our own son with swords and halters.
+
+"Any but a fool might have known that it was no
+base born knave who sent the King's army back, naked
+to the King, and rammed the King's message down his
+messenger's throat.
+
+"By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a
+King's son, an' though we made sour faces at the time,
+we be all the prouder of thee now."
+
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first
+words to see the King standing behind them, and now
+Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and greeted his
+father.
+
+"They be sorry jokes, Sire," he said.  "Methinks it had
+been better had Richard remained lost.  It will do the
+honor of the Plantagenets but little good to acknowl-
+edge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood."
+
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a
+later King of England to wipe the great name from
+the pages of history--perhaps a jealous king.
+
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas
+to those of the chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie
+down once more, and when he had done so they left
+him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the
+door closed behind them than he arose and left the
+apartment by another exit.
+
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he
+found her for whom he was searching.  She sat looking
+wistfully into space, an expression half sad upon her
+beautiful face.  She did not see him as he approached,
+and he stood there for several moments watching her
+dear profile, and the rising and falling of her bosom
+over that true and loyal heart that had beaten so proud-
+ly against all the power of a mighty throne for the
+despised Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtile
+sixth sense which warns us that we are not alone,
+though our eyes see not nor our ears hear, caused her
+to turn.
+
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low
+after the manner of the court, said:
+
+"What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England,
+of his poor subject?" And then, more gravely, "My
+Lord, I have been raised at court, and I understand
+that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget
+what passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Nor-
+man of Torn."
+
+"Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb
+royal precedents," he replied, "for he will wed not
+rashly, but most wisely, since he will wed none but
+Bertrade de Montfort."  And he who had been the
+Outlaw of Torn took the fair young girl in his arms,
+adding: "If she still loves me, now that I be a prince?"
+
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek
+down close to hers.
+
+"It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor
+be it the prince I love now; it be all the same to me,
+prince or highwayman--it be thee I love, dear heart--
+just thee."
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn
+by Burroughs
+
+
+I have made the following changes to the text:
+PAGE  LINE  ORIGINAL          CHANGED TO
+  17    17  merks             marks
+  55     4  ertswhile         erstwhile
+  59     1  so so             do so
+  90    26  beats             beasts
+  93     4  presntly          presently
+ 124    20  rescurer          rescuer
+ 171    27  walls."           walls.
+ 184     3  gnetlemen         gentlemen
+ 185    20  fored,            formed,
+ 186     6  to forces         the forces
+ 195    19  those father      whose father
+ 217     2  precipitably      precipitately
+ 217     5  litle             little
+ 221    30  Monfort           Montfort
+ 230    30  Montforth         Montfort
+ 245    15  muderer's         murderer's
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn, by Burroughs
+#10 in our Edgar Rice Burroughs Series [Tarzan, Mars, etc.]
+
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+The Outlaw of Torn
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+by Edgar Rice Burroughs
+
+December, 1995  [Etext #369]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn, by Burroughs
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+
+
+
+EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
+
+THE OUTLAW OF TORN
+
+
+
+To My Friend
+
+JOSEPH E. BRAY
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years.  At first it
+was suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England.  Later it was
+forgotten.  I happened to dig it up by accident.  The accident being the
+relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain Father Superior in a very
+ancient monastery in Europe.
+
+He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscripts and
+I came across this.  It is very interesting -- partially since it is a bit
+of hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact that it
+records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurous life of
+its innocent victim -- Richard, the lost prince of England.
+
+In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history.  What
+interested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves -- the
+visored horseman who -- but let us wait until we get to him.
+
+It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening, it
+shook England from north to south and from east to west; and reached across
+the channel and shook France.  It started, directly, in the London palace
+of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the King and his
+powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester.
+
+Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can read all about it at
+your leisure.  But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243, Henry so
+forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason in the
+presence of a number of the King's gentlemen.
+
+De Montfort paled.  He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himself
+to his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of his wrath,
+as he did that day, he was very imposing.  A power in England, second only
+to the King himself, and with the heart of a lion in him, he answered the
+King as no other man in all England would have dared answer him.
+
+"My Lord King," he cried, "that you be my Lord King alone prevents Simon de
+Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult.  That you
+take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare say were
+you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you a coward."
+
+Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers as these
+awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to his king.  They
+were horrified, for De Montfort's bold challenge was to them but little
+short of sacrilege.
+
+Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon De
+Montfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, he
+thought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughty
+sneer, turned to his courtiers.
+
+"Come, my gentlemen," he said, "methought that we were to have a turn with
+the foils this morning.  Already it waxeth late.  Come, DeFulm !  Come,
+Leybourn !" and the King left the apartment followed by his gentlemen, all
+of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it became apparent
+that the royal displeasure was strong against him.  As the arras fell
+behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his broad shoulders, and
+turning, left the apartment by another door.
+
+When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still smarting
+from the humiliation of De Montfort's reproaches, and as he laid aside his
+surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm, his eyes alighted on
+the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was advancing with the King's
+foil and helmet.  Henry felt in no mood for fencing with De Fulm, who, like
+the other sycophants that surrounded him, always allowed the King easily to
+best him in every encounter.
+
+De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit
+himself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry felt
+that he could best the devil himself.
+
+The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the guard
+room.  It was built in a small wing of the building so that it had light
+from three sides.  In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-skinned
+Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to face him in mimic
+combat with the foils, for the King wished to go with hammer and tongs at
+someone to vent his suppressed rage.
+
+So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person of the hated De
+Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an early
+and mortifying defeat by the King's sudden and clever attack.
+
+Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day he quite
+outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run the pseudo De
+Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his audience.  For this
+fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac twice around the hall when,
+with a clever feint, and backward step, the master of fence drew the King
+into the position he wanted him, and with the suddenness of lightning, a
+little twist of his foil sent Henry's weapon clanging across the floor of
+the armory.
+
+For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand of
+death had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers.  The
+episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the best swordsman
+in England -- for that surely was no disgrace -- to Henry it seemed
+prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he should stand face to
+face with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in De Vac only the
+creature of his imagination with which he had vested the likeness of his
+powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should like to have done to the
+real Leicester.  Drawing off his gauntlet he advanced close to De Vac.
+
+"Dog !" he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow across
+the face, and spat upon him.  Then he turned on his heel and strode from
+the armory.
+
+De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but he hated
+all things English and all Englishmen.  The dead King John, though hated by
+all others, he had loved, but with the dead King's bones De Vac's loyalty
+to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral of Worcester.
+
+During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court, the
+sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as only De Vac
+could teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in the discharge of
+his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred and contempt for his
+pupils.
+
+And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might only be
+wiped out by blood.
+
+As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, and
+throwing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statue before
+his master.  White and livid was his tense drawn face, but he spoke no
+word.
+
+He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left to him
+no alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fight with a
+lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live -- the king's honor
+must be satisfied.
+
+Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and gloried in
+the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France; but an English
+King -- pooh !  a dog; and who would die for a dog ?  No, De Vac would find
+other means of satisfying his wounded pride.  He would revel in revenge
+against this man for whom he felt no loyalty.  If possible, he would harm
+the whole of England if he could, but he would bide his time.  He could
+afford to wait for his opportunity if, by waiting, he could encompass a
+more terrible revenge.
+
+De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed the best
+swordsman in France.  The son had followed closely in the footsteps of his
+father until, on the latter's death, he could easily claim the title of his
+sire.  How he had left France and entered the service of John of England is
+not of this story.  All the bearing that the life of Jules de Vac has upon
+the history of England hinges upon but two of his many attributes -- his
+wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred for his adopted country.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, on the
+third day following the King's affront to De Vac, might have been a seen a
+black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroidered with gold
+about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves, which
+reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of the garment.  A
+richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones, and held in
+place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garment about her waist
+so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdle after the manner of
+a blouse.  In the girdle was a long dagger of beautiful workmanship.
+Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimple of violet silk bordered in
+gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head and shoulders.
+
+By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like his companion,
+in gay colors.  His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was rich with
+embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of white silk.  His
+doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white were cross-gartered
+with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees.  On the back of his brown
+curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which a single plume of
+white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proud little head.
+
+The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gave an
+expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would have been
+too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby.  As he talked with his
+companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, which sat
+strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times to turn her
+head from him that he might not see the smiles which she could scarce
+repress.
+
+Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a little
+bush near them, said, "Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush.  I would
+play at toss."
+
+The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her place and
+turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her.  Thus they played beneath
+the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after the ball when he
+missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when he made a
+particularly good catch.
+
+In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim,
+gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together in a
+malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line.
+
+He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovely young
+woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac was working
+out a great problem, the greatest of all his life.
+
+For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking for
+some means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry had put
+upon him.  Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewd and cunning
+mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of the terrible
+satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded.
+
+His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettled political
+conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he might wrest that
+opportunity which could be turned to his own personal uses and to the harm,
+and possibly the undoing, of the King.
+
+For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armory when
+the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac had heard
+much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that could well be
+turned to the King's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy.
+
+With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held the terms
+of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with his kingly oath
+to maintain it.  But what all England did not know, De Vac had gleaned from
+scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: that Henry was even now
+negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries, and with Louis IX of
+France, for a sufficient force of knights and men-at-arms to wage a
+relentless war upon his own barons that he might effectively put a stop to
+all future interference by them with the royal prerogative of the
+Plantagenets to misrule England.
+
+If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: the point
+of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first point of
+attack.  Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in this
+venture so dear to his heart !
+
+A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their
+retainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces.
+
+And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he was beholden
+for his defeat and discomfiture.  Possibly the barons would depose Henry,
+and place a new king upon England's throne, and then De Vac would mock the
+Plantagenet to his face.  Sweet, kind, delectable vengeance, indeed !  And
+the old man licked his thin lips as though to taste the last sweet vestige
+of some dainty morsel.
+
+And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window where the
+old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, De Vac's eyes
+fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as the fog before the
+noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him the whole hideous plot of
+fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ upon the leaves of a great
+book that had been thrown wide before him.  And, in so far as he could
+direct, he varied not one jot from the details of that vividly conceived
+masterpiece of hellishness during the twenty years which followed.
+
+The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royal father
+was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III of England.  No
+published history mentions this little lost prince; only the secret
+archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strange and
+adventurous life.  His name has been blotted from the records of men; and
+the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of the world; though in his
+time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of the English.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in the
+gardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of his tiny
+life with his nurses and governesses.
+
+He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repair to
+the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a little
+postern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom the
+Queen had forbidden the privilege of the court.
+
+There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes and plans,
+unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowers and
+shrubbery of the garden.
+
+Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid.  He had managed
+to coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to the little
+postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnight escapade,
+hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner of his adventure,
+and, what was more to the point with Brus, at the same time slipping a
+couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm.
+
+Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainer of
+the house of Plantagenet.  Whatever else of mischief De Vac might be up to,
+Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, the key to
+the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands as though Henry himself had
+it.
+
+The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fence
+should, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades more befitting
+the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern was it of his ?
+Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardens so that his royal
+master and mistress might find pleasure in the shaded walks, the well-kept
+sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants and blooming flowers which
+he set with such wondrous precision in the formal garden ?
+
+Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this; and if
+the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take this means of
+rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he to ignore the
+divine favor.  So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac the key, and the
+little prince played happily among the flowers of his royal father's
+garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it should have been.
+
+That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side of London;
+one who could not possibly know him or recognize the key as belonging to
+the palace.  Here he had a duplicate made, waiting impatiently while the
+old man fashioned it with the crude instruments of his time.
+
+From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanes and
+alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasional smoky
+lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distance from the
+palace.
+
+A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of the
+Thames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of the
+river rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneath the
+dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dock rats and
+their fiercer human antitypes.
+
+Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search of the
+little doorway of the building he sought.  At length he came upon it, and,
+after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was opened by a
+slatternly old hag.
+
+"What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour ?" she grumbled.
+"Ah, 'tis ye, my lord ?" she added, hastily, as the flickering rays of the
+candle she bore lighted up De Vac's face.  "Welcome, my Lord, thrice
+welcome.  The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother."
+
+"Silence, old hag," cried De Vac.  "Is it not enough that you leech me of
+good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles of
+villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs burden
+me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue ?
+
+"Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate to
+perdition ?  And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had
+delivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and cobwebs
+from the floor and rafters ?  Why, the very air reeked of the dead Romans
+who builded London twelve hundred years ago.  Methinks, too, from the
+stink, they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty with their
+herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broom to the
+place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin."
+
+"Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan," cried the woman.  "I would rather hear
+thy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted from thy
+rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voice as it
+were fresh from the coffers of the holy church.
+
+"The bundle is ready," she continued, closing the door after De Vac, who
+had now entered, "and here be the key; but first let us have a payment.  I
+know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from the secrecy
+which you have demanded, an' I dare say there will be some who would pay
+well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child, thy sister
+and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious to hide away in old
+Til's garret.  So it be well for you, my Lord, to pay old Til well and add
+a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if you would that your prisoner
+find peace in old Til's house."
+
+"Fetch me the bundle, hag," replied De Vac, "and you shall have gold
+against a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goes
+well and thou holdest thy vile tongue."
+
+But the old woman's threats had already caused De Vac a feeling of
+uneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree in the
+old woman had she known the determination her words had caused in the mind
+of the old master of fence.
+
+His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure too fraught
+with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyal
+fellow-conspirator.  True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of the
+plot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, his
+stern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions, and
+with them her curiosity and cupidity.  So it was that old Til might well
+have quailed in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessed the
+thoughts which passed in De Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieces he
+dropped into her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him, together
+with the promise of more, quite effectually won her loyalty and her silence
+for the time being.
+
+Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundle with
+his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alley and
+hastened toward the dock.
+
+Beneath the planks.  he found a skiff which he had moored there earlier in
+the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle.  Then,
+casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palace walls,
+he moored near to the little postern gate which let into the lower end of
+the garden.
+
+Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew to the
+water's edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty of the
+aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and,
+unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace.
+
+The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old man
+that he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convinced
+him of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whose
+youth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames might find
+lodgement for rheumatism.
+
+"Ha, Sir Jules," laughed the old gardener, "Virtue and Vice be twin sisters
+who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire.  Were there
+no desire there would be no virtue, and because one man desires what
+another does not, who shall say whether the child of his desire be vice or
+virtue ?  Or on the other hand if my friend desires his own wife and if
+that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is not that likewise
+virtue, since we desire the same thing ?  But if to obtain our desire it be
+necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, then it were virtue to
+remain at home."
+
+"Right you sound, old mole," said De Vac, smiling, "would that I might
+learn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me in good
+stead before I be much older."
+
+"The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the sword,
+I should think," said Brus, returning to his work.
+
+That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking out upon the
+beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall two hundred
+yards away.  In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth, sleek
+lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while here and there
+marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling in the brilliant
+sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, took on a semblance of
+life from the riotous play of light and shadow as the leaves above them
+moved to and fro in the faint breeze.  Farther in the distance, the river
+wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, and the formal, geometric
+precision of the nearer view was relieved by a background of vine-colored
+bowers, and a profusion of small trees and flowering shrubs arranged in
+studied disorder.
+
+Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stone
+benches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swings suspended
+from the branches of fruit trees.
+
+Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and her
+little charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher in the
+window behind them.
+
+A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, as
+Richard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the little
+postern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who had been
+waiting without.  Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm to the
+little bower which was their trysting place.
+
+As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince played happily
+about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern, determined face
+which peered through the foliage at a little distance from the playing boy.
+
+Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterfly
+which fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in the bushes.
+Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in another moment, he had
+burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing the implacable master
+of fence.
+
+"Your Highness," said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, "let old DeVac
+help you catch the pretty insect."
+
+Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so together they
+started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed out of sight.
+De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate, but when he would
+have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latter rebelled.
+
+"Come, My Lord Prince," urged De Vac, "methinks the butterfly did but
+alight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden in an
+instant."
+
+"Go thyself and fetch it," replied the Prince; "the King, my father, has
+forbid me stepping without the palace grounds."
+
+"Come," commanded De Vac, more sternly, "no harm can come to you."
+
+But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac was forced
+to grasp him roughly by the arm.  There was a cry of rage and alarm from
+the royal child.
+
+"Unhand me, sirrah," screamed the boy.  "How dare you lay hands on a prince
+of England ?"
+
+De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries, but it
+was too late.  The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an instant,
+they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawing his sword as
+he ran.
+
+When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside,
+and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate.  But,
+handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key before
+the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out before the
+master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
+
+De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly affrightened
+Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confronted the officer.
+
+There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentions were
+too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each other with
+grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman that France had ever
+produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince.
+
+In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of
+chivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged through the
+heart of his brave antagonist.  Then, with a bound, he leaped between Lady
+Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the garden and give
+the alarm.
+
+Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing the
+lady in waiting, his back against the door.
+
+"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules," she cried, "hast thou gone mad ?"
+
+"No, My Lady," he answered, "but I had not thought to do the work which now
+lies before me.  Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head and let
+his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling ?  Your rashness
+has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you or I, My Lady,
+and it cannot be I.  Say thy prayers and compose thyself for death."
+
+Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by the
+great lords and nobles who composed his suit.  He awaited Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heap still
+further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading and
+humiliating him that he might leave England forever.  The King feared this
+mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follies which
+were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
+
+What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for
+Leicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came an
+interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier in a
+common affliction that touched the hearts of all.
+
+There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and
+Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming
+down her pale cheeks.
+
+"Oh, My Lord !  My Lord !' she cried, "Richard, our son, has been
+assassinated and thrown into the Thames."
+
+In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the greatest
+difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statement from his
+queen.
+
+It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with
+Prince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an
+immediate search had been instituted -- a search which did not end for over
+twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of the court to
+stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the dead bodies of Lady
+Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere was there a sign or
+trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of England, and at that
+time the youngest prince of the realm.
+
+It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was
+that one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of the
+episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of the King's
+little son became apparent.
+
+An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England,
+for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark which closely
+resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was found bearing such a
+mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search was carried into France,
+nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time for more than twenty years.
+
+The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it was
+subjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassin could
+have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killed the Lady
+Maud and her lover, had such been his desire.
+
+The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew had
+always been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members of the
+King's household.
+
+Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king was healed,
+and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority in Gascony,
+he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royal master.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced, for,
+merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task.  Too far he
+had gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the Lady Maud alive,
+the whole of the palace guard and all the city of London would have been on
+his heels in ten minutes; there would have been no escape.
+
+The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble and
+whimper in his fright.  So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that a
+threat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man led him
+to the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes.
+
+De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had first
+intended.  Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneath
+the thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing a cotton
+wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair.  Concealing
+the child beneath the other articles of clothing, he pushed off from the
+bank, and, rowing close to the shore, hastened down the Thames toward the
+old dock where, the previous night, he had concealed his skiff.  He reached
+his destination unnoticed, and, running in beneath the dock, worked the
+boat far into the dark recess of the cave-like retreat.
+
+Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew that the
+search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, and that none
+might traverse the streets of London without being subject to the closest
+scrutiny.
+
+Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince and
+clothed him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundle hidden
+beneath the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match, a black
+doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap.
+
+The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone torn
+from the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned the bundle
+to the voiceless river.
+
+The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and, finding
+that De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellow commenced
+questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at this strange
+adventure getting the better of his former apprehension.
+
+"What do we here, Sir Jules ?" he asked.  "Take me back to the King's, my
+father's palace.  I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments you
+have placed upon me."
+
+"Silence, boy !" commanded the old man.  "Sir Jules be dead, nor are you a
+king's son.  Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me hear you
+speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince."
+
+The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor.
+Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry and
+frightened -- just a poor little baby, helpless and hopeless in the hands
+of this cruel enemy -- all his royalty as nothing, all gone with the silken
+finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames, and
+presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the skiff.
+
+When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to the side of
+the dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stood listening,
+preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til's place.
+
+As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentive
+ears; louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that a
+number of men were approaching.
+
+De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneath the
+dock.  Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights and
+men-at-arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of the
+dark alley.  Here they stopped as though for consultation and plainly could
+the listener below hear every word of their conversation.
+
+"De Montfort," said one, "what thinkest thou of it ?  Can it be that the
+Queen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters ?"
+
+"No, De Clare," replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as that of
+the Earl of Leicester.  "The hand that could steal the Prince from out of
+the very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or her
+companion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easily and
+safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been the object of
+this strange attack.  I think, My Lord, that presently we shall hear from
+some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince for ransom.  God give that
+such may be the case, for of all the winsome and affectionate little
+fellows I have ever seen, not even excepting mine own dear son, the little
+Richard was the most to be beloved.  Would that I might get my hands upon
+the foul devil who has done this horrid deed."
+
+Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay the
+object of his search.  The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, and the
+voices above him had awakened the little Prince and, with a startled cry,
+he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff.  Instantly De Vac's iron band
+clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail had reached
+the ears of the men above.
+
+"Hark !  What was that, My Lord ?" cried one of the men-at-arms.
+
+In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then De
+Montfort cried out:
+
+"What ho, below there !  Who is it beneath the dock ?  Answer, in the name
+of the King !"
+
+Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to free
+himself, but De Vac's ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of the
+babe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listening for
+a repetition of the sound.
+
+"Dock rats," said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided them to
+protect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the loose
+boards, and ran squealing up the dark alley.
+
+"Right you are," said De Montfort, "but I could have sworn 'twas a child's
+feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine own eyes.
+Come, let us to the next vile alley.  We have met with no success here,
+though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious to bargain
+for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able to give us."
+
+As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of the listeners
+beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance.
+
+"A close shave," thought De Vac, as he again took up the child and prepared
+to gain the dock.  No further noises occurring to frighten him, he soon
+reached the door to Til's house and, inserting the key, crept noiselessly
+to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favored hostess.
+
+There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, this ascent
+being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled up after him,
+closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbed with his
+burden, by means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars.
+
+The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east end of
+the building, and had windows upon three sides.  These were heavily
+curtained.  The apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging from a
+rafter near the center of the room.
+
+The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing a
+most barnlike and unhospitable appearance.
+
+In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; a
+cupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings.  These
+articles De Vac had purchased for the room against the time when he should
+occupy it with his little prisoner.
+
+On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containing
+honey, a pitcher of milk and two drinking horns.  To these, De Vac
+immediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of what he
+wished.
+
+Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince's fears, and he set to
+with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse by the rude
+utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royal magnificence of his
+palace apartments.
+
+While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the building in
+search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared.  The words of
+De Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced him that here
+was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge which must be
+removed as had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there was neither youth
+nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, or to cause the grim
+executioner a pang of remorse.
+
+When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon the street,
+in fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building.  Still clad as
+he was in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Til did not, at first,
+recognize him, and when he spoke, she burst into a nervous, cackling laugh,
+as one caught in the perpetration of some questionable act, nor did her
+manner escape the shrewd notice of the wily master of fence.
+
+"Whither, old hag ?" he asked.
+
+"To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end, by the river, My Lord," she replied,
+with more respect than she had been wont to accord him.
+
+"Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you can
+give me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I have
+moored there."
+
+And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of the
+rickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the King
+would lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone could
+give; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long dagger
+which nestled there.
+
+As they reached the water's edge, De Vac was walking with his right
+shoulder behind his companion's left, in his hand was gripped the keen
+blade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered just
+below her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at the
+same instant that De Vac's left hand swung up and grasped her throat in a
+grip of steel.
+
+There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening old
+muscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward into
+the Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope that Prince
+Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bent old
+woman lived in the heart of London within a stone's throw of the King's
+palace.  In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic of an old
+building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroad alone, nor by
+day.  And upon his left breast was a strange mark which resembled a lily.
+When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room, with bolted door
+behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and discard her dingy mantle for
+more comfortable and becoming doublet and hose.
+
+For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy's education.  There
+were three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and hatred of
+all things English, especially the reigning house of England.
+
+The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching the
+little boy the art of fence when he was but three years old.
+
+"You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty, my
+son," she was wont to say, "and then you shall go out and kill many
+Englishmen.  Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadth of
+England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck, aha,
+then will I speak.  Then shall they know."
+
+The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he was
+comfortable, and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and that he
+would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real sword, and had
+grown large enough to wield one.  He also knew that he hated Englishmen,
+but why, he did not know.
+
+Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, he seemed
+to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been very different;
+when, instead of this old woman, there had been many people around him, and
+a sweet faced woman had held him in her arms and kissed him, before he was
+taken off to bed at night; but he could not be sure, maybe it was only a
+dream he remembered, for he dreamed many strange and wonderful dreams.
+
+When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came to their
+attic home to visit the little old woman.  It was in the dusk of the
+evening but the old woman did not light the cresset, and further, she
+whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far corner of the
+bare chamber.
+
+The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almost his
+entire face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bit of
+wrinkled forehead.  When he spoke, he accompanied his words with many
+shrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and other
+strange and amusing gesticulations.  The child was fascinated.  Here was
+the first amusement of his little starved life.  He listened intently to
+the conversation, which was in French.
+
+"I have just the thing for madame," the stranger was saying.  "It be a
+noble and stately hall far from the beaten way.  It was built in the old
+days by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and the
+disfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants.  A few years
+since, Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri de
+Macy, who pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay.  Today
+it be my property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it for the
+mere song I have named.  It be a wondrous bargain, madame."
+
+"And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumbling pile
+of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes," replied the old woman
+peevishly.
+
+"One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one wing hath
+sagged and tumbled in," explained the old Frenchman.  "But the three lower
+stories be intact and quite habitable.  It be much grander even now than
+the castles of many of England's noble barons, and the price, madame ---
+ah, the price be so ridiculously low."
+
+Still the old woman hesitated.
+
+"Come," said the Frenchman, "I have it.  Deposit the money with Isaac the
+Jew -- thou knowest him ?  -- and he shall hold it together with the deed
+for forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby and
+inspect thy purchase.  If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the Jew
+shall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the end of
+forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaac send
+the deed to thee and the money to me.  Be not this an easy and fair way out
+of the difficulty ?"
+
+The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded that it
+seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter.  And thus it was
+accomplished.
+
+Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her.
+
+"We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home.  Thy face shall be
+wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache.  Dost
+understand ?"
+
+"But I have no toothache.  My teeth do not pain me at all.  I -- "
+expostulated the child.
+
+"Tut, tut," interrupted the little old woman.  "Thou hast a toothache, and
+so thy face must be wrapped in many rags.  And listen, should any ask thee
+upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that thou hast a
+toothache.  And thou do not do as I say, the King's men will take us and we
+shall be hanged, for the King hateth us.  If thou hatest the English King
+and lovest thy life do as I command."
+
+"I hate the King," replied the little boy.  "For this reason I shall do as
+thou sayest."
+
+So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey north toward
+the hills of Derby.  For many days they travelled, riding upon two small
+donkeys.  Strange sights filled the days for the little boy who remembered
+nothing outside the bare attic of his London home and the dirty London
+alleys that he had traversed only by night.
+
+They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark, forbidding
+forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets of thatched huts.
+Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway, alone or in small
+parties, but the child's companion always managed to hasten into cover at
+the road side until the grim riders had passed.
+
+Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade
+across which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade from
+either side.  For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in silence,
+and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black charger, cried out
+something to the other which the boy could not catch.  The other knight
+made no response other than to rest his lance upon his thigh and with
+lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary.  For a dozen paces their
+great steeds trotted slowly toward one another, but presently the knights
+urged them into full gallop, and when the two iron men on their iron
+trapped chargers came together in the center of the glade, it was with all
+the terrific impact of full charge.
+
+The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his
+foeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon the
+gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway.  The
+momentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horseman
+before his rider could rein him in, then the black knight turned to view
+the havoc he had wrought.  The gray horse was just staggering dizzily to
+his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen.
+
+With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his vanquished
+foe.  There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned toward the
+prostrate form.  He spoke tauntingly, but there was no response, then he
+prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.  Even this elicited no
+movement.  With a shrug of his iron clad shoulders, the black knight
+wheeled and rode on down the road until he had disappeared from sight
+within the gloomy shadows of the encircling forest.
+
+The little boy was spell-bound.  Naught like this had he ever seen or
+dreamed.
+
+"Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son," said the little old
+woman.
+
+"Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed ?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance and
+mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and death,
+for every man shalt be thy enemy.  But come, we must be on our way."
+
+They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always in
+his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for the
+day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight.
+
+On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the
+notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares,
+they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some
+bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised and
+defenseless tradesmen.
+
+Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeons
+and daggers, with here and there a cross-bow.  Without mercy they attacked
+the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood even when they
+offered no resistance.  Those of the caravan who could, escaped, the
+balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, as they hurried away
+with their loot.
+
+At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little old
+woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips.  She noted his
+expression of dismay.
+
+"It is naught, my son.  But English curs setting upon English swine.  Some
+day thou shalt set upon both -- they be only fit for killing."
+
+The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which he had
+seen.  Knights were cruel to knights -- the poor were cruel to the rich --
+and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind that
+everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor.  He had seen them in
+all their sorrow and misery and poverty -- stretching a long, scattering
+line all the way from London town.  Their bent backs, their poor thin
+bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the weary wretchedness
+of their existence.
+
+"Be no one happy in all the world ?" he once broke out to the old woman.
+
+"Only he who wields the mightiest sword," responded the old woman.  "You
+have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts.  They set upon and kill
+one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all.  When thou
+shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for unless thou kill
+them, they will kill thee."
+
+At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little hamlet
+in the hills.  Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse
+purchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting
+country away from the beaten track, until late one evening they approached
+a ruined castle.
+
+The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and where a
+portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining through the
+narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the likeness of a huge,
+many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a deserted world, for nowhere
+was there other sign of habitation.
+
+Before this somber pile, the two dismounted.  The little boy was filled
+with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the
+crumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them.  From the dark
+shadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court.  At the
+far end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with decaying
+planks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of oats upon
+the floor for him from a bag which had bung across his rump.
+
+Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting their
+advance with a flickering pine knot.  The old planking of the floors, long
+unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach.  There was a sudden
+scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed by in a frenzy of
+alarm toward the freedom of the outer night.
+
+Presently they came to the great hall.  The old woman pushed open the great
+doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty, cavernous
+interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch.  As they stepped
+cautiously within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurts from the
+long-rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet.  A huge bat circled
+wildly with loud fluttering wings in evident remonstrance at this rude
+intrusion.  Strange creatures of the night scurried or wriggled across wall
+and floor.
+
+But the child was unafraid.  Fear had not been a part of the old woman's
+curriculum.  The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor was he ever
+in his after-life to experience the sensation.  With childish eagerness, he
+followed his companion as she inspected the interior of the chamber.  It
+was still an imposing room.  The boy clapped his hands in delight at the
+beauties of the carved and panelled walls and the oak beamed ceiling,
+stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oil cressets that had
+lighted it in bygone days, aided, no doubt, by the wood fires which had
+burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer the merry throng of noble
+revellers that had so often sat about the great table into the morning
+hours.
+
+Here they took up their abode.  But the bent, old woman was no longer an
+old woman -- she had become a straight, wiry, active old man.
+
+The little boy's education went on -- French, swordsmanship and hatred of
+the English -- the same thing year after year with the addition of
+horsemanship after he was ten years old.  At this time the old man
+commenced teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and very marked
+French accent.  During all his life now, he could not remember of having
+spoken to any living being other than his guardian, whom he had been taught
+to address as father.  Nor did the boy have any name -- he was just "my
+son."
+
+His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exacting duties of
+his education that he had little time to think of the strange loneliness of
+his existence; nor is it probable that he missed that companionship of
+others of his own age of which, never having had experience in it, he could
+scarce be expected to regret or yearn for.
+
+At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and with an
+utter contempt for pain or danger -- a contempt which was the result of the
+heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him.  Often
+the two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and without armor or other
+protection of any description.
+
+"Thus only," the old man was wont to say, "mayst thou become the absolute
+master of thy blade.  Of such a nicety must be thy handling of the weapon
+that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly, shouldst thou
+desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of a master hand, mayst be
+stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch."
+
+But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of them
+would nurse a punctured skin for a few days.  So, while blood was often let
+on both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who was so truly
+the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within a fraction of an
+inch of the spot he sought.
+
+At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad.  Bronzed
+and hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none that he
+might talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, for that he
+was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking French fluently and
+English poorly -- and waiting impatiently for the day when the old man
+should send him out into the world with clanking armor and lance and shield
+to do battle with the knights of England.
+
+It was about this time that there occurred the first important break in the
+monotony of his existence.  Far down the rocky trail that led from the
+valley below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, three armored
+knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chill autumn day.
+Off the main road and far from any habitation, they had espied the castle's
+towers through a rift in the hills, and now they spurred toward it in
+search of food and shelter.
+
+As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenly emerged
+upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyes which caused
+them to draw rein and watch in admiration.  There, before them upon the
+downs, a boy battled with a lunging, rearing horse -- a perfect demon of a
+black horse.  Striking and biting in a frenzy of rage, it sought ever to
+escape or injure the lithe figure which clung leech-like to its shoulder.
+
+The boy was on the ground.  His left hand grasped the heavy mane; his right
+arm lay across the beast's withers and his right hand drew steadily in upon
+a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitch about the horse's
+muzzle.  Now the black reared and wheeled, striking and biting, full upon
+the youth, but the active figure swung with him -- always just behind the
+giant shoulder -- and ever and ever he drew the great arched neck farther
+and farther to the right.
+
+As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged the boy
+with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the grip
+upon mane and withers.  Suddenly, he reared straight into the air carrying
+the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himself backward
+upon the ground.
+
+"It's death !" exclaimed one of the knights, "he will kill the youth yet,
+Beauchamp."
+
+"No !" cried he addressed.  "Look !  He is up again and the boy still
+clings as tightly to him as his own black hide."
+
+"'Tis true," exclaimed another, "but he hath lost what he had gained upon
+the halter -- he must needs fight it all out again from the beginning."
+
+And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing the iron
+neck slowly to the right -- the beast fighting and squealing as though
+possessed of a thousand devils.  A dozen times, as the head bent farther
+and farther toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the mane and reached
+quickly down to grasp the near fore pastern.  A dozen times the horse shook
+off the new hold, but at length the boy was successful, and the knee was
+bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow.
+
+Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feet and
+his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position.  His efforts
+became weaker and weaker.  The boy talked incessantly to him in a quiet
+voice, and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips.  Now he bore
+heavily upon the black withers, pulling the horse toward him.  Slowly the
+beast sank upon his bent knee -- pulling backward until his off fore leg
+was stretched straight before him.  Then, with a final surge, the youth
+pulled him over upon his side, and, as he fell, slipped prone beside him.
+One sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the black chin -- the other
+grasped a slim, pointed ear.
+
+For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, but with
+his head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of the boy as
+a baby would have been.  Then he sank panting and exhausted into mute
+surrender.
+
+"Well done !" cried one of the knights.  "Simon de Montfort himself never
+mastered a horse in better order, my boy.  Who be thou ?"
+
+In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for the
+speaker.  The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood -- the
+handsome boy and the beautiful black -- gazing with startled eyes, like two
+wild things, at the strange intruder who confronted them.
+
+"Come, Sir Mortimer !" cried the boy, and turning he led the prancing but
+subdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican into the
+court beyond.
+
+"What ho, there, lad !" shouted Paul of Merely.  "We wouldst not harm
+thee -- come, we but ask the way to the castle of De Stutevill."
+
+The three knights listened but there was no answer.
+
+"Come, Sir Knights," spoke Paul of Merely, "we will ride within and learn
+what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery."
+
+As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruined
+grandeur, they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in no
+gentle tones what they would of them there.
+
+"We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old man,"
+replied Paul of Merely.  "We seek the castle of Sir John de Stutevill."
+
+"Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to the
+right, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ride
+north beside the river -- thou canst not miss the way -- it be plain as the
+nose before thy face," and with that the old man turned to enter the
+castle.
+
+"Hold, old fellow !" cried the spokesman.  "It be nigh onto sunset now, and
+we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last.  We will
+tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journey refreshed,
+upon rested steeds."
+
+The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in to
+feed and house them over night.  But there was nothing else for it, since
+they would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give it
+voluntarily.
+
+From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outside
+their Derby hills.  The old man showed less interest than he felt, but to
+the boy, notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to him, it
+was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of earl and
+baron, bishop and king.
+
+"If the King does not mend his ways," said one of the knights, "we will
+drive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the sea."
+
+"De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all of us,
+both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formed a pact
+for our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that the time for
+temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil war upon his
+hands, he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead of breaking
+them the moment De Montfort's back be turned."
+
+"He fears his brother-in-law," interrupted another of the knights, "even
+more than the devil fears holy water.  I was in attendance on his majesty
+some weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the royal barge.
+We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have ever seen, of
+which the King was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land at
+the Bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then were.  De Montfort,
+who was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all due respect,
+observing, 'What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed ?' And what
+thinkest thou old 'waxen heart' replied ?  Why, still trembling, he said,
+'I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but, by the hand of God, I
+tremble before you more than for all the thunder in Heaven !'"
+
+"I surmise," interjected the grim, old man, "that De Montfort has in some
+manner gained an ascendancy over the King.  Think you he looks so high as
+the throne itself ?"
+
+"Not so," cried the oldest of the knights.  "Simon de Montfort works for
+England's weal alone -- and methinks, nay knowest, that he would be first
+to spring to arms to save the throne for Henry.  He but fights the King's
+rank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to defy the King
+himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter collapse.  But,
+gad, how the King hates him.  For a time it seemed that there might be a
+permanent reconciliation when, for years after the disappearance of the
+little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of his time and private
+fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for the little
+fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond.  This self-sacrificing interest
+on his part won over the King and Queen for many years, but of late his
+unremitting hostility to their continued extravagant waste of the national
+resources has again hardened them toward him."
+
+The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened, sent
+the youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left to prepare
+supper.
+
+As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the boy
+intently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome face,
+clear, intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a mass of
+brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears, where
+it was again cut square at the sides and back, after the fashion of the
+times.
+
+His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red,
+over which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was also of
+leather, a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin.  His long
+hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer of skin, were of
+the same red wool as his tunic, while his strong leather sandals were
+cross-gartered halfway to his knees with narrow bands of leather.
+
+A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and a
+round skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon's
+wing, completed his picturesque and becoming costume.
+
+"Your son ?" he asked, turning to the old man.
+
+"Yes," was the growling response.
+
+"He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French accent.
+
+"'S blood, Beauchamp," he continued, turning to one of his companions, "an'
+were he set down in court, I wager our gracious Queen would he hard put to
+it to tell him from the young Prince Edward.  Dids't ever see so strange a
+likeness ?"
+
+"Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly.  It is indeed a
+marvel," answered Beauchamp.
+
+Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would have seen
+a blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage.
+
+Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in a grave
+quiet tone.
+
+"And how old might you be, my son ?" he asked the boy.
+
+"I do not know."
+
+"And your name ?"
+
+"I do not know what you mean.  I have no name.  My father calls me son and
+no other ever before addressed me."
+
+At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he would
+fetch more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he had passed
+the doorway and listened from without.
+
+"The lad appears about fifteen," said Paul of Merely, lowering his voice,
+"and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives.  This one
+does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough like Prince Edward
+to be his twin."
+
+"Come, my son," he continued aloud, "open your jerkin and let us have a
+look at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there."
+
+"Are you Englishmen ?" asked the boy without making a move to comply with
+their demand.
+
+"That we be, my son," said Beauchamp.
+
+"Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all Englishmen
+are pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France.  I do not
+uncover my body to the eyes of swine."
+
+The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally burst
+into uproarious laughter.
+
+"Indeed," cried Paul of Merely, "spoken as one of the King's foreign
+favorites might speak, and they ever told the good God's truth.  But come
+lad, we would not harm you -- do as I bid."
+
+"No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side," answered the
+boy, "and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man other than my
+father."
+
+Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul of
+Merely, but the latter's face hardened in anger, and without further words
+he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy's leathern
+jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quick sharp, "En
+garde !" from the boy.
+
+There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, in
+self-defense, for the sharp point of the boy's sword was flashing in and
+out against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs, and the
+boy's tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as it invited him
+to draw and defend himself or be stuck "like the English pig you are."
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawing against
+this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm him without
+harming the lad, and he certainly did not care to be further humiliated
+before his comrades.
+
+But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he discovered
+that, far from disarming him, he would have the devil's own job of it to
+keep from being killed.
+
+Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile and
+dexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room, great
+beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for he realized that
+he was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman.
+
+The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grim smiles,
+and presently they looked on with startled faces in which fear and
+apprehension were dominant.
+
+The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse.  No sign of exertion
+was apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder than words that
+he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity.
+
+Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paul of
+Merely always retreating.  The din of their clashing swords and the heavy
+breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as they brushed
+against a bench or a table.
+
+Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of dying
+uselessly at the hands of a mere boy.  He would not call upon his friends
+for aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between them with
+drawn sword, crying "Enough, gentlemen, enough !  You have no quarrel.
+Sheathe your swords."
+
+But the boy's only response was, "En garde, cochon," and Beauchamp found
+himself taking the center of the stage in the place of his friend.  Nor did
+the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in swordplay that
+caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their sockets.
+
+So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet of
+gleaming light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smile had
+frozen upon his lips -- grim and stern.
+
+Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places when Greystoke
+rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry, gray man leaped
+agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword took his place
+beside the boy.  It was now two against three and the three may have
+guessed, though they never knew, that they were pitted against the two
+greatest swordsmen in the world.
+
+"To the death," cried the little gray man, "a mort, mon fils." Scarcely had
+the words left his lips ere, as though it had but waited permission, the
+boy's sword flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely, and a Saxon gentleman
+was gathered to his fathers.
+
+The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undivided
+attention to Beauchamp.  Both these men were considered excellent
+swordsmen, but when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man's "a mort,
+mon fils," he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his neck rose
+up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the sentence of
+death passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could vanquish such
+a swordsman as he who now faced him.
+
+As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man led
+Greystoke to where the boy awaited him.
+
+"They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of revenge;
+a mort, mon fils."
+
+Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the lad as
+a great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back not an inch
+and, when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steel protruding from
+his back.
+
+Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at the back
+of the ruined castle.  First they had stripped them and, when they took
+account of the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richer by three
+horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold and silver money, ornaments
+and jewels, as well as the lances, swords and chain mail armor of their
+erstwhile guests.
+
+But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that the
+knowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and Prince Edward
+of England had come to him in time to prevent the undoing of his life's
+work.
+
+The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the old man had
+little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor to him, obliterating
+the devices so that none might guess to whom it had belonged.  This he did,
+and from then on the boy never rode abroad except in armor, and when he met
+others upon the high road, his visor was always lowered that none might see
+his face.
+
+The day following the episode of the three knights the old man called the
+boy to him, saying,
+
+"It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions as were
+put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry.  Thou art fifteen years of age,
+and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle of Torn, thou
+mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou art Norman of
+Torn; that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchased Torn and
+brought thee hither from France on the death of thy mother, when thou wert
+six years old.
+
+"But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman is
+the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit."
+
+And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short years was to
+strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in the vicinity
+of Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy in the
+handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a period was
+allotted to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turned sixteen,
+even the old man himself was as but a novice by comparison with the
+marvelous skill of his pupil.
+
+During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directions
+until he knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn.
+Sometimes the old man accompanied him, but more often he rode alone.
+
+On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a small hamlet
+not far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determined to enter
+and have speech with the inmates, for by this time the natural desire for
+companionship was commencing to assert itself.  In all his life, he
+remembered only the company of the old man, who never spoke except when
+necessity required.
+
+The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushed in,
+without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up with an
+expression of annoyance and disapproval.
+
+"What now," he said, "have the King's men respect neither for piety nor age
+that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so much as a
+'by your leave' ?"
+
+"I am no king's man," replied the boy quietly, "I am Norman of Torn, who
+has neither a king nor a god, and who says 'by your leave' to no man.  But
+I have come in peace because I wish to talk to another than my father.
+Therefore you may talk to me, priest," he concluded with haughty
+peremptoriness.
+
+"By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me with
+his commands," laughed the priest.  "Raise your visor, My Lord, I would
+fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands of royalty."
+
+The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round jovial
+face.  There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort, and so,
+smiling, the boy raised his visor.
+
+"By the ear of Gabriel," cried the good father, "a child in armor !"
+
+"A child in years, mayhap," replied the boy, "but a good child to own as a
+friend, if one has enemies who wear swords."
+
+"Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have few enemies,
+no man has too many friends, and I like your face and your manner, though
+there be much to wish for in your manners.  Sit down and eat with me, and I
+will talk to your heart's content, for be there one other thing I more love
+than eating, it is talking."
+
+With the priest's aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavy and
+uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that was already
+partially on the board.
+
+Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the good
+priest.  Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend, Father
+Claude.  It was he who taught the boy to read and write in French, English
+and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could sign their own names.
+
+French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higher classes
+of society, and all public documents were inscribed either in French or
+Latin, although about this time the first proclamation written in the
+English tongue was issued by an English king to his subjects.
+
+Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to espouse
+the cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe that the
+principal reason for man's existence was to protect woman.  All of virtue
+and chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected to
+inculcate in the boy's mind, the good priest planted there, but he could
+not eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief that the
+real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with a sword.
+
+An occurrence which befell during one of the boy's earlier visits to his
+new friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring to
+bear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of the
+boy's, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good father owed a
+great deal, possibly his life.
+
+As they were seated in the priest's hut one afternoon, a rough knock fell
+upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit as disreputable a
+band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man.  Six of them there
+were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords and daggers at their
+sides.
+
+The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hair and
+a red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard.  Behind
+him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache; while the
+third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek and forehead and
+from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye, for that socket was
+empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered the inflamed red of the
+hollow where his eye had been.
+
+"A ha, my hearties," roared the leader, turning to his motley crew, "fine
+pickings here indeed.  A swine of God fattened upon the sweat of such poor,
+honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks, must have pieces
+of gold in his belt.
+
+"Say your prayers, my pigeons," he continued, with a vile oath, "for The
+Black Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a halter
+later, and dead men talk the least."
+
+"If it be The Black Wolf," whispered Father Claude to the boy, "no worse
+fate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and when drunk, as
+he now is, he murders his victims.  I will throw myself before them while
+you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make good your
+escape." He spoke in French, and held his hands in the attitude of prayer,
+so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no idea that he was
+communicating with the boy.
+
+Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of the old
+priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:
+
+"The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks he runs
+out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at the front
+door."
+
+Then rising he addressed the ruffians.
+
+"I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friend
+here, nor neither do I care.  It is sufficient that he is the friend of
+Norman of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledge
+the debt of friendship.  Have at you, sir knights of the great filth and
+the mighty stink !" and with drawn sword he vaulted over the table and fell
+upon the surprised leader.
+
+In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercely did
+his blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment, The
+Black Wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, was badly,
+though not fatally wounded.  The four remaining ruffians backed quickly
+from the hut, and a more cautious fighter would have let them go their way
+in peace, for in the open, four against one are odds no man may pit himself
+against with impunity.  But Norman of Torn saw red when he fought and the
+red lured him ever on into the thickest of the fray.  Only once before had
+he fought to the death, but that once had taught him the love of it, and
+ever after until his death, it marked his manner of fighting; so that men
+who loathed and hated and feared him were as one with those who loved him
+in acknowledging that never before had God joined in the human frame
+absolute supremacy with the sword and such utter fearlessness.
+
+So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, he rushed
+out after the four knaves.  Once in the open, they turned upon him, but he
+sprang into their midst with his seething blade, and it was as though they
+faced four men rather than one, so quickly did he parry a thrust here and
+return a cut there.  In a moment one was disarmed, another down, and the
+remaining two fleeing for their lives toward the high road with Norman of
+Torn close at their heels.
+
+Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running as well
+as in swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both had thrown
+away their swords and were on their knees pleading for their lives.
+
+"Come back to the good priest's hut, and we shall see what he may say,"
+replied Norman of Torn.
+
+On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending over his
+wounded comrade.  They were brothers, named Flory, and one would not desert
+the other.  It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger, so Norman
+of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut, where they found Red
+Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the good father poured the
+contents of a flagon down his eager throat.
+
+The villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four
+comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room.
+
+"The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory, One
+Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners !" he ejaculated.
+
+"Man or devil !  By the Pope's hind leg, who and what be ye ?" he said,
+turning to Norman of Torn.
+
+"I be your master and ye be my men," said Norman of Torn.  "Me ye shall
+serve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but with
+fighting a-plenty and good reward."
+
+The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon the clergy
+had given rise to an idea in the boy's mind, which had been revolving in a
+nebulous way within the innermost recesses of his subconsciousness since
+his vanquishing of the three knights had brought him, so easily, such
+riches in the form of horses, arms, armor and gold.  As was always his wont
+in his after life, to think was to act.
+
+"With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with red hot
+tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of a chief,"
+spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, "for verily any man, be he but a
+stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command us."
+
+"But what be the duties ?" said he whom they called Peter the Hermit.
+
+"To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and the
+weak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon rich
+Englishmen and harass the King of England."
+
+The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the ruffians so
+strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even daily mass, and
+a bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the service of Norman of
+Torn.
+
+"Aye, aye !" they cried.  "We be your men, indeed."
+
+"Wait," said Norman of Torn, "there is more.  You are to obey my every
+command on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are to be
+mine.  On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mounts and
+armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for and with you
+with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector.  Are you
+satisfied ?"
+
+"That we are," and "Long live Norman of Torn," and "Here's to the chief of
+the Torns" signified the ready assent of the burly cut-throats.
+
+"Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token," pursued
+Norman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest's table.
+
+With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few years to
+number a thousand men, and which defied a king's army and helped to make
+Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England.
+
+Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon neighboring
+barons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be caught in the
+open by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn with many
+pieces of gold and silver, and placed a price upon his head ere he had
+scarce turned eighteen.
+
+That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts, he
+grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger's point upon the foreheads of
+those who fell before his own sword the initials NT.
+
+As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grim
+Castle of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnished the
+moat with water in bygone days.
+
+Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessed his
+activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly and oppressed.
+The money he took from the King's tax gatherers, he returned to the
+miserable peasants of the district, and once when Henry III sent a little
+expedition against him, he surrounded and captured the entire force, and,
+stripping them, gave their clothing to the poor, and escorted them, naked,
+back to the very gates of London.
+
+By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself had dubbed
+him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though no man had seen
+his face and lived other than his friends and followers.  He had become a
+power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrel between King Henry and
+his foreign favorites on one side, and the Saxon and Norman barons on the
+other.
+
+Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman of Torn
+had preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent.  Personally, he had
+decided to join neither party, but to take advantage of the turmoil of the
+times to prey without partiality upon both.
+
+As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy,
+ragged cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the old man
+of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small towers of the
+barbican.
+
+Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung at
+his side in mimicry of the custom of the times.
+
+"What ho, without there !" challenged the old man entering grimly into the
+spirit of the play.
+
+"'Tis Sir Norman of Torn," spoke up Red Shandy, "with his great host of
+noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and sumpter beasts.
+Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn."
+
+"What means this, my son ?" said the old man as Norman of Torn dismounted
+within the ballium.
+
+The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, "These,
+then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon the highways
+and into the byways of England, to collect from the rich English pigs that
+living which you have ever taught me was owing us."
+
+"'Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together we shall
+ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way.
+
+"From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow in
+the land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and shall
+hate and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe him.
+
+"All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall never
+dry upon your blade."
+
+As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle after this
+outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin, said:
+
+"By the Pope's hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English.  There
+should be great riding after such as he."
+
+"Ye ride after ME, varlet," cried Norman of Torn, "an' lest ye should
+forget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a reminder," and he
+struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist -- so that
+the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth.
+
+He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a towering rage.
+As he rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter made no move to
+draw; he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold, level gaze;
+his head held high, haughty face marked by an arrogant sneer of contempt.
+
+The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smile overspread
+his countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand of Norman of
+Torn and kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight might have kissed
+his king's hand in proof of his love and fealty.  There was a certain rude,
+though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it marked not only the beginning
+of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part of Shandy toward his young
+master, but was prophetic of the attitude which Norman of Torn was to
+inspire in all the men who served him during the long years that saw
+thousands pass the barbicans of Torn to crave a position beneath his grim
+banner.
+
+As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One Eye Kanty,
+and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissed his hand.
+From the Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man had watched this
+scene, a slight smile upon his old, malicious face.
+
+"'Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams," he muttered.  "'S death, but he
+be more a king than Henry himself.  God speed the day of his coronation,
+when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a black cap shall be
+placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet the platform of a wooden
+gibbet for a throne."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rode alone
+down the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which he had
+replaced the hut of his old friend, Father Claude.
+
+As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his person
+or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank or house.
+More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he was without rank
+or other title than that of outlaw and he seemed to assume what in reality
+he held in little esteem.
+
+He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and not
+because he craved the protection it afforded.  And, for the same cause, he
+rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon the old
+man to explain the reason which necessitated this precaution.
+
+"It is enough that I tell you, my son," the old fellow was wont to say,
+"that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face to
+your enemies until I so direct.  The time will come and soon now, I hope,
+when you shall uncover your countenance to all England."
+
+The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it off as
+the foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
+
+Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a very
+different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before,
+when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of the
+night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whose
+metamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent to the
+castle had marked.
+
+Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than ever in
+the most resplendent days of its past grandeur.  The original keep was
+there with its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen foot
+walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted chambers, lighted by
+embrasures which, mere slits in the outer periphery of the walls, spread to
+larger dimensions within, some even attaining the area of small triangular
+chambers.
+
+The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the
+castle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at
+intervals with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire from
+long bows, cross bows and javelins might be directed against a scaling
+party.
+
+The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice, which
+natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
+
+The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran the
+tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the valley
+below.  The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged beauty.
+A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparsely studded
+with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view of broad and
+lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling tributary of the Trent.
+
+Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the north wall
+and one the east.  All three gates were strongly fortified with towered and
+buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main gates could be
+reached.  Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner gates were
+similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which, spanning the
+moat when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of an enemy,
+effectually stopping his advance.
+
+The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the direction
+of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father, were of the
+Norman type of architecture, the windows were larger, the carving more
+elaborate, the rooms lighter and more spacious.
+
+Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten
+hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires, lackeys,
+cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to
+care for the wants of his little army.
+
+Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were
+quartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive with cows,
+oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
+
+Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors to the
+grim pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the neighboring farm
+lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid good gold for
+their crops.
+
+These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons who owned
+the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or give a
+pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of death, but
+nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly and always returned
+full laden, and though the husbandmen told sad tales to their overlords of
+the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he seized upon their stuff by
+force, their tongues were in their cheeks as they spoke and the Devil's
+gold in their pockets.
+
+And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants' love
+for him increased.  Them he never injured; their fences, their stock, their
+crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestation even though the
+neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked from the wine cellar to
+the ramparts of the loftiest tower.  Nor did anyone dare ride rough shod
+over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled.  A dozen bands of
+cut-throats he had driven from the Derby hills, and though the barons would
+much rather have had all the rest than he, the peasants worshipped him as a
+deliverer from the lowborn murderers who had been wont to despoil the weak
+and lowly and on whose account the women of the huts and cottages had never
+been safe.
+
+Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but they
+loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him to their
+ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and the meadow and
+the chase, for though they were confessed Christians, still in the hearts
+of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions of their ancestors; and
+while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to Mary, yet they felt it
+could do no harm to be on the safe side with the others, in case they did
+happen to exist.
+
+A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, they were;
+accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader and then
+another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of their feudal
+lords and their rapacious monarchs.
+
+No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for since
+their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors, to
+England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them from oppression.
+
+On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and the
+grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed.  The latter was for
+carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young man would
+neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to molest the
+lowly.  A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wild horde than a
+stout lance or an emblazoned shield.
+
+So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father
+Claude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from the
+copper boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen kneeling
+uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkable after all.
+
+Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay back
+moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong, lithe
+legs stretched out before him.
+
+"What ails you, my son ?" asked the priest, "that you look so disconsolate
+on this beautiful day ?"
+
+"I do not know, Father," replied Norman of Torn, "unless it be that I am
+asking myself the question, 'What it is all for ?' Why did my father train
+me ever to prey upon my fellows ?  I like to fight, but there is plenty of
+fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolen wealth avail
+me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it ?  Should I stick my
+head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held by a hempen
+necklace.
+
+"What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry ?  They have quarrel
+enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should have
+hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they really are.
+So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an old man's spite, not
+even knowing the grievance to the avenging of which my life has been
+dedicated by another.
+
+"And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the
+nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and never
+in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felt a caress,
+even as a little child.  What think you, Father Claude ?"
+
+"I have thought much of it, my son," answered the priest.  "It has ever
+been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held for
+years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder to
+speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud.  Norman of Torn, if
+you are not the son of the old man you call father, may God forfend that
+England ever guesses your true parentage.  More than this, I dare not say
+except that, as you value your peace of mind and your life, keep your visor
+down and keep out of the clutches of your enemies."
+
+"Then you know why I should keep my visor down ?"
+
+"I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you
+resemble."
+
+The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the sound of
+horses' hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms.  In an instant, both
+men were at the tiny unglazed window.  Before them, on the highroad, five
+knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party of ten or
+a dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching breathless on her
+palfry , a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants.
+
+Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rode to
+her side with some word of command, at the same time grasping roughly at
+her bridle rein.  The girl raised her riding whip and struck repeatedly but
+futilely against the iron headgear of her assailant while he swung his
+horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after him, galloped rapidly
+out of sight.
+
+Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored
+condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back and spurred swiftly in the
+direction taken by the girl and her abductor.
+
+The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor of
+his rider, soon brought the fugitives to view.  Scarce a mile had been
+covered ere the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of
+Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
+
+With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knight reined
+in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, "Mon Dieu, Edward !"
+
+"Draw and defend yourself," cried Norman of Torn.
+
+"But, Your Highness," stammered the knight.
+
+"Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs," cried
+Norman of Torn.
+
+The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the
+rider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck the
+other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the dust of
+the roadway.
+
+The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair battle
+upon even terms.  Though handicapped by the weight of his armor, the knight
+also had the advantage of its protection, so that the two fought furiously
+for several minutes without either gaining an advantage.
+
+The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching
+every move of the two contestants.  She made no effort to escape, but
+seemed riveted to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she was
+beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the handsome giant
+who had espoused her cause.  As she looked upon her champion, she saw a
+lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect figure,
+unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean, athletic
+life of the trained fighting man.
+
+Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the sword
+arm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played with
+the sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so futilely
+before him.  For all the din of clashing blades and rattling armor, neither
+of the contestants had inflicted much damage, for the knight could neither
+force nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard of his unarmored
+foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in penetrating the other's armor.
+
+Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade
+through the meshes of his adversary's mail, and the fellow, with a cry of
+anguish, sank limply to the ground.
+
+"Quick, Sir Knight !" cried the girl.  "Mount and flee; yonder come his
+fellows."
+
+And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he had
+just come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode three steel-armored
+men on their mighty horses.
+
+"Ride, madam," cried Norman of Torn, "for fly I shall not, nor may I,
+alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay these
+three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape.  Their
+heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your fleet palfrey."
+
+As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman.  That she
+was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of her riding
+apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her noble and
+haughty demeanor and the proud expression of her beautiful face.
+
+Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of
+Norman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of
+women, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position.  No
+woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, ever
+known a mother.
+
+His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward men,
+except that he had sworn always to protect them.  Possibly, in a way, he
+looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn looked up
+to anything: God, man or devil -- it being more his way to look down upon
+all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
+
+As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined to alter the
+entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was beautiful, and
+that she was of that class against whom he had preyed for years with his
+band of outlaw cut-throats.  Then he turned once more to face her enemies
+with the strange inconsistency which had ever marked his methods.
+
+Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father's castle, but
+today he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her -- had she
+been the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less.  It was
+enough that she was a woman and in need of protection.
+
+The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for
+fair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot.  But as
+the leading knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried out in
+surprise and consternation:
+
+"Mon Dieu, le Prince !" He wheeled his charging horse to one side.  His
+fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them
+dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they had
+been keen to attack.
+
+"One would think they had met the devil," muttered Norman of Torn, looking
+after them in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+"What means it, lady ?" he asked turning to the damsel, who had made no
+move to escape.
+
+"It means that your face is well known in your father's realm, my Lord
+Prince," she replied.  "And the King's men have no desire to antagonize
+you, even though they may understand as little as I why you should espouse
+the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort."
+
+"Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England ?" he asked.
+
+"An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord ?"
+
+"I am not the Prince," said Norman of Torn.  "It is said that Edward is in
+France."
+
+"Right you are, sir," exclaimed the girl.  "I had not thought on that; but
+you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the Queen
+herself.  And you be of a bravery fit for a king's son.  Who are you then,
+Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade, daughter
+of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester ?"
+
+"Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King Henry ?" queried Norman of
+Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
+
+"That I be," replied the girl, "an' from your face I take it you have
+little love for a De Montfort," she added, smiling.
+
+"An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort ?  Be you niece or
+daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war against
+women.  Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety."
+
+"I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father's knights, to visit
+Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby."
+
+"I know the castle well," answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow of a grim
+smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed since he had
+reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the great baron.  "Come, you
+have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you shall sup with your
+friend before dark."
+
+So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their steps down
+the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where it had
+fallen.
+
+"Ride on," he called to Bertrade de Montfort, "I will join you in an
+instant."
+
+Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and
+lifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the point of
+his dagger the letters NT.
+
+The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her and
+he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act.  Brave
+daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he did, her
+heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled in terror from
+the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark she had seen on the
+dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights and kinsmen.
+
+Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here
+Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor.  Now he rode once more with
+lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de Montfort
+that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited his interest.
+
+Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a
+young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had
+often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and
+terrible attacks.  While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of women
+captives, there was no truth in them.  They were merely spread by his
+enemies to incite the people against him.  Never had Norman of Torn laid
+violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath to
+respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
+
+As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something
+stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years.
+It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for
+companionship of such as she, and such as she represented.  Norman of Torn
+could not have translated this feeling into words for he did not know, but
+it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was mixed
+not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for other lions, but for
+his lioness.
+
+They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
+
+"You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query.  Who be ye ?"
+
+"I am Nor -- " and then he stopped.  Always before he had answered that
+question with haughty pride.  Why should he hesitate, he thought.  Was it
+because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of
+this daughter of the aristocracy he despised ?  Did Norman of Torn fear to
+face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in that
+lovely face ?
+
+"I am from Normandy," he went on quietly.  "A gentleman of France."
+
+"But your name ?" she said peremptorily.  "Are you ashamed of your name ?"
+
+"You may call me Roger," he answered.  "Roger de Conde."
+
+"Raise your visor, Roger de Conde," she commanded.  "I do not take pleasure
+in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man within."
+
+Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as he
+rarely did, he was good to look upon.
+
+"It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade de
+Montfort," he said.
+
+The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and
+health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as they
+might have been friends of long standing.
+
+She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day,
+attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of
+Colfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily and
+roughly denied by her father.
+
+Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that the
+old reprobate who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavory truths
+from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by his rude and
+discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
+
+"This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to," growled Norman of Torn.  "And,
+as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for the
+asking.  You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort."
+
+"Very well," she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much
+indulged in in those days.  "You may bring me his head upon a golden dish,
+Roger de Conde."
+
+"And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his
+princess the head of her enemy ?" he asked lightly.
+
+"What boon would the knight ask ?"
+
+"That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever
+calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and
+believe in his honor and his loyalty."
+
+The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell her
+that this was more than play.
+
+"It shall be as you say, Sir Knight," she replied.  "And the boon once
+granted shall be always kept."
+
+Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided that
+he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any other
+thing he knew of.  And wishing it, he determined to win it by any means
+that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many respects
+was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
+
+They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and there,
+Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the Baron's
+hospitality overnight.
+
+The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when
+added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he
+made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
+
+At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire
+household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences of
+painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore his
+sword arm in a sling.
+
+"We have been through grievous times," said Sir John, noticing that his
+guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict.  "That fiend,
+Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us for ten
+days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it.  Life is no longer
+safe in England with the King spending his time and money with foreign
+favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his own barons,
+instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the right of every
+Englishman at home.
+
+"But," he continued, "this outlaw devil will come to the end of a short
+halter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons themselves
+have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not subdue
+him."
+
+"An' he may send the barons naked home as he did the King's soldiers,"
+laughed Bertrade de Montfort.  "I should like to see this fellow; what may
+he look like -- from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many of your
+men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him."
+
+    "Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us," replied the
+Baron, "but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him and
+that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and having
+one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his chin."
+
+"A fearful apparition," murmured Norman of Torn.  "No wonder he keeps his
+helm closed."
+
+"But such a swordsman," spoke up a son of De Stutevill.  "Never in all the
+world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard."
+
+"I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay," said Bertrade de Montfort,
+"and that today.  O he !" she cried, laughing gleefully, "verily do I
+believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight, who
+styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er saw man fight before, and
+he rode with his visor down until I chide him for it."
+
+Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company he
+most enjoyed the joke.
+
+"An' speaking of the Devil," said the Baron, "how think you he will side
+should the King eventually force war upon the barons ?  With his thousand
+hell-hounds, the fate of England might well he in the palm of his bloody
+hand."
+
+"He loves neither King nor baron," spoke Mary de Stutevill, "and I rather
+lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather plunder the
+castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be absent at war."
+
+"It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcome him,"
+said De Stutevill, ruthfully.  "But yet I am always in fear for the safety
+of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time.  May the
+good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn."
+
+"I think you may have no need of fear on that score," spoke Mary, "for
+Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of
+Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was the
+great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailed hand
+as to crack the ruffian's helm, saying at the time, 'Know you, fellow,
+Norman of Torn does not war upon women ?'"
+
+Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn
+heard no more of himself during that evening.
+
+His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and then,
+on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an embrasure of
+the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of the necessity for
+leaving and once more she urged him to remain.
+
+"To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort," he said boldly, "I would forego any
+other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, but there are
+others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away from you.  You
+shall see me again, and at the castle of your father, Simon de Montfort, in
+Leicester.  Provided," he added, "that you will welcome me there."
+
+"I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde," replied
+the girl.
+
+"Remember that promise," he said smiling.  "Some day you may be glad to
+repudiate it."
+
+"Never," she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said it
+would have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women than was
+Norman of Torn.
+
+"I hope not," he said gravely.  "I cannot tell you, being but poorly
+trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you might
+know how much your friendship means to me.  Goodbye, Bertrade de Montfort,"
+and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his lips.
+
+As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few minutes
+later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at the castle
+and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a young woman who
+raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden impulse, threw a
+kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear from the embrasure with
+the act.
+
+As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, he
+had much food for thought upon the way.  Never till now had he realized
+what might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of
+bitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whose
+teachings from the boy's earliest childhood had guided him in the ways that
+had out him off completely from the society of other men, except the wild
+horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneath the grisly
+banner of the young chief of Torn.
+
+Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl who
+had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel shame for
+his past deeds.  He did not know the meaning of love, and so he could not
+know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his strange
+likeness to the Crown Prince of England.  This, together with the words of
+Father Claude, puzzled him sorely.  What might it mean ?  Was it a heinous
+offence to own an accidental likeness to a king's son ?
+
+But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with
+closed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face
+from the sight of men.  Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from some
+inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, Father Claude
+dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn.  The austere
+stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavory reputation,
+always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest; not alone
+because of the deep friendship which the master of Torn felt for the good
+father, but through the personal charm, and lovableness of the holy man's
+nature, which shone alike on saint and sinner.
+
+It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman,
+during the period that the boy's character was most amenable to strong
+impressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respects pure
+and lofty.  It was this same influence, though, which won for Father Claude
+his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whose sole aim in
+life seemed to have been to smother every finer instinct of chivalry and
+manhood in the boy, to whose training he had devoted the past nineteen
+years of his life.
+
+As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey -- fat people do not
+"dismount" -- a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and to
+lead the animal to the stables.
+
+The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking a
+question here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiarity
+that bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance.
+
+As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw him laughing,
+though respectful, welcomes and within the great court, beautified with
+smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statues and small shrubs
+and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now the principal
+lieutenant of Norman of Torn.
+
+"Good morrow, Saint Claude !" cried the burly ruffian.  "Hast come to save
+our souls, or damn us ?  What manner of sacrilege have we committed now, or
+have we merited the blessings of Holy Church ?  Dost come to scold, or
+praise ?"
+
+"Neither, thou unregenerate villain," cried the priest, laughing.  "Though
+methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy with which thou
+didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week."
+
+"Tut, tut, Father," replied Red Shandy.  "We did but aid him to adhere more
+closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant and disciple
+he claims to be.  Were it not better for an Archbishop of His Church to
+walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be ever surrounded
+with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold, to say nothing
+of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine ?"
+
+"I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets of wine as
+may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, had finished with
+him," exclaimed Father Claude.
+
+"Yes, Father," laughed the great fellow, "for the sake of Holy Church, I
+did indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must needs
+have proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and you
+shall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwich
+displays in the selection of his temptations."
+
+"They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, Red
+Shandy, " continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of the
+outlaw and proceeded toward the castle.
+
+"One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as the sun
+was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for that single
+article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays of old sol.
+Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandals of the road,
+he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget so that it could
+not be removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strapped face to tail upon
+a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattling down the dusty road
+with his head, at least, protected from the idle gaze of whomsoever he
+might chance to meet.  Forty stripes he gave to each of the Bishop's
+retinue for being abroad in bad company; but come, here we are where you
+shall have the wine as proof of my tale."
+
+As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary, the little old man of Torn
+entered.  He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him if he knew
+aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn.
+
+"We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in
+the direction of your cottage," he concluded.
+
+"Why, yes," said the priest, "I saw him that day.  He had an adventure with
+several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom he rescued a
+damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to be of the house
+of Montfort.  Together they rode north, but thy son did not say whither or
+for what purpose.  His only remark, as he donned his armor, while the girl
+waited without, was that I should now behold the falcon guarding the dove.
+Hast he not returned ?"
+
+"No," said the old man, "and doubtless his adventure is of a nature in line
+with thy puerile and effeminate teachings.  Had he followed my training,
+without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made an iron-barred nest
+in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned English nobility.  An' thou
+leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking service in the household of
+the King."
+
+"Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here," said the priest
+quietly.
+
+"Why say you that ?" snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claude
+narrowly.
+
+"Oh," laughed the priest, "because he whose power and mien be even more
+kingly than the King's would rightly grace the royal palace," but he had
+not failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did his
+off-hand reply entirely deceive the old man.
+
+At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy's presence was
+required at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretful
+glance at the unemptied flagon, left the room.
+
+For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which was
+presently broken by the old man of Torn.
+
+"Priest," he said, "thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to my
+liking.  It were needless that he should have wasted so much precious time
+from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters.  Of what benefit may a
+knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him.  It may be
+years and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be a devil in
+hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet.  And thou knowst it,
+and he too, as well as I.  The things which thou hast taught him be above
+his station, and the hopes and ambitions they inspire will but make his end
+the bitterer for him.  Of late I have noted that he rides upon the highway
+with less enthusiasm than was his wont, but he has gone too far ever to go
+back now; nor is there where to go back to.  What has he ever been other
+than outcast and outlaw ?  What hopes could you have engendered in his
+breast greater than to be hated and feared among his blood enemies ?"
+
+"I knowst not thy reasons, old man," replied the priest, "for devoting thy
+life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I dare not
+voice; but let us understand each other once and for all.  For all thou
+dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature, I have
+done and shall continue to do all in my power to controvert.  As thou hast
+been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, and when all is
+said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the King's gibbet, as I only
+too well fear he must, there will be more to mourn his loss than there be
+to curse him.
+
+"His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were the friends
+and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be more greatly to his
+honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate.
+
+"Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to his honor
+when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will be forgotten in the
+greater glory of his mercy to the weak.
+
+"Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a cruel and
+degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlaw of
+Torn, it will be thou -- I had almost said, unnatural father; but I do not
+believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of him thou
+callest son."
+
+The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment, his
+face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred and rage,
+but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption.
+
+"Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear," he said bitterly,
+"but I be glad to know just how thou standeth.  In the past there has been
+peace between us, though no love; now let us both understand that it be war
+and hate.  My life work is cut out for me.  Others, like thyself, have
+stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they ?  Dost
+understand me, priest ?" And the old man leaned far across the table so
+that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a few
+inches from those of the priest.
+
+Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze.
+
+"I understand," he said, and, rising, left the castle.
+
+Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at the door,
+which immediately swung open without waiting the formality of permission.
+Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman of Torn, and his
+face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome.
+
+"Greetings, my son," said the priest.
+
+"And to thee, Father," replied the outlaw, "And what may be the news of
+Torn.  I have been absent for several days.  Is all well at the castle ?"
+
+"All be well at the castle," replied Father Claude, "if by that you mean
+have none been captured or hanged for their murders.  Ah, my boy, why wilt
+thou not give up this wicked life of thine ?  It has never been my way to
+scold or chide thee, yet always hath my heart ached for each crime laid at
+the door of Norman of Torn."
+
+"Come, come, Father," replied the outlaw, "what dost I that I have not good
+example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church.  Murder, theft,
+rapine !  Passeth a day over England which sees not one or all perpetrated
+in the name of some of these ?
+
+"Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteous for
+the wolf to tear the sheep ?  Methinks not.  Only do I collect from those
+who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while they prey upon
+those who have naught.
+
+"Yet," and his manner suddenly changed, "I do not love it, Father.  That
+thou know.  I would that there might be some way out of it, but there is
+none.
+
+"If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can I
+myself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out of this
+life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those very enemies
+I have been taught to hate.  But it is too late, Father, there can be but
+one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope."
+
+"No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way," replied the good
+Father.  "In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for such as
+thee.  France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Norman of
+Torn.  In the court of Louis, you would take your place among the highest
+of the land.  You be rich and brave and handsome.  Nay do not raise your
+hand.  You be all these and more, for you have learning far beyond the
+majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a true chivalry of
+character.  With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar your way to the
+highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have no future beyond
+the halter.  Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn ?"
+
+The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand across his
+eyes as though to brush away a vision.
+
+"There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time at
+least, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring."
+
+And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill was
+drawing to a close.  Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had ridden
+out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome young
+knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her fairer
+friend.
+
+Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great court,
+their arms about each other's waists, pouring the last confidences into
+each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return to
+Leicester.
+
+"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade," said Mary.  "Wert my
+father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only the
+small escort which we be able to give."
+
+"Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade.  "Five of thy father's knights be ample
+protection for so short a journey.  By evening it will have been
+accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such a
+sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will venture
+again to molest me."
+
+"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade ?" urged Mary.  "Only
+yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping to us
+with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his
+master's household.  He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naught
+more horrible than to fall into his hands."
+
+"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman of Torn
+was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father's castle.  How
+be it thou so soon has changed thy mind ?"
+
+"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what horrid
+freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond compare.
+Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's niece;
+against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred and his
+vengeance.  Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure my father
+must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee instead of
+five."
+
+"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary ?  Thy reasoning is on
+a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
+
+"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five knights
+were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a mouthful to
+that horrid horde of unhung murderers.  No, Mary, I shall start tomorrow
+and your good knights shall return the following day with the best of word
+from me."
+
+"If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly.  "Indeed it were plain
+that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be second only
+to their historic stubbornness."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
+
+"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad to
+protect me.  Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of a
+truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere saw fight
+before."
+
+"Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination to leave
+on the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all unarmed,
+that still would you send back my father's knights."
+
+Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount to
+her cheek.
+
+"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.
+
+Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the discomfiture
+of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
+
+"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but now I
+seest that I divined all too truly.  He be indeed good to look upon, but
+what knowest thou of him ?"
+
+"Hush, Mary !" commanded Bertrade.  "Thou know not what thou sayest.  I
+would not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and
+then -- it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no
+word hath he sent."
+
+"Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind ?  My Lady would
+not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has sent her no
+word.  Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade."
+
+"I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaled
+foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward the
+castle.
+
+In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides of
+a little table.  The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout.  His
+red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner of his
+life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby over his
+receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his life and been
+given.  His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit of armor
+and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guest might be.  It
+was the little armored man who was speaking.
+
+"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter," he said, "that you
+must have my reasons ?  Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the passion
+which moves me.  Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the maiden; give me
+ten knights and I will bring her to you."
+
+"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle ?" asked
+Peter of Colfax.
+
+"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, if
+thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we may
+take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."
+
+Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of
+Leicester's to catch him in some trap.  He did not know his guest -- the
+fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method of
+obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
+
+"Come," said the little, armored man irritably.  "I cannot bide here
+forever.  Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge, and
+if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and then not
+even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."
+
+This last threat decided the Baron.
+
+"It is agreed," he said.  "The men shall ride out with you in half an
+hour.  Wait below in the courtyard."
+
+When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned his
+squire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
+
+"Guy," said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye made a rare fizzle of
+a piece of business some weeks ago.  Ye wot of which I speak ?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+"It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve thy
+blunder.  Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in the
+courtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye lost
+to a handful of men before.  You understand ?"
+
+"Yes, My Lord !"
+
+"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us.  At
+the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay him.
+Tell the others that these be my orders."
+
+"Yes, My Lord.  When do we ride ?"
+
+"At once.  You may go."
+
+The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her father's
+castle dawned gray and threatening.  In vain did Mary de Stutevill plead
+with her friend to give up the idea of setting out upon such a dismal day
+and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de Montfort was firm.
+
+"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly that
+even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort.  I shall have
+enough to account for as it be.  Do not urge me to add even one more day to
+my excuses.  And again, perchance, my mother and my father may be sore
+distressed by my continued absence.  No, Mary, I must ride today." And so
+she did, with the five knights that could be spared from the castle's
+defence.
+
+Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so that
+they were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,
+wrapped in mantle and surcoat.  As they proceeded, the rain and wind
+increased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in such
+blinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to the
+instincts of their mounts.
+
+Less than half the journey had been accomplished.  They were winding across
+a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest, into the
+somber shadows of which the road wound.  There was a glint of armor among
+the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the riders saw it not.
+On they came, their patient horses plodding slowly through the sticky road
+and hurtling storm.
+
+Now they were half way up the ridge's side.  There was a movement in the
+dark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band of
+steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears.  Charging at full run
+down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before a blow
+could be struck in her defense.  Her two remaining guardians wheeled to
+meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for it took
+the entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slay the
+two.
+
+In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of her
+assailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs to
+her palfrey and escaped.  Calling to his companions he set out at a rapid
+pace in pursuit.
+
+Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de Montfort
+urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the arms of Peter
+of Colfax on the shields of several of the attacking party.
+
+Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed.  The great beasts of
+her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tethered in
+their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying white
+steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies through the
+clouds.
+
+But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight,
+Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day.  As it was,
+however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere, in the
+midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched across the
+roadway between two trees.
+
+As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,
+Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little,
+limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.
+
+There they found her.  The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount, so
+indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of Colfax, it
+was all the same to him.  In either event, his purpose would be
+accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman of Torn
+from the path he had laid out for him.
+
+That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the Spaniard,
+the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose mean aid the
+little grim, gray man had purchased since many months to spy upon the
+comings and goings of the great outlaw.
+
+The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade de
+Montfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
+
+"Come," said the man called Guy, "if there be life left in her, we must
+hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct."
+
+"I leave ye here," said the little old man.  "My part of the business is
+done."
+
+And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest toward
+the castle of Colfax.
+
+Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five knights
+of Sir John de Stutevill.  Three were already dead, the other two, sorely
+but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
+
+The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and, with
+his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men.  Then, drawing his
+dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of the five, and
+mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
+
+"And if one fact be not enough," he muttered, "that mark upon the dead will
+quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of Torn and
+Leicester."
+
+Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of a
+dozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and Princess
+Eleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their oldest
+son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
+
+With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly along
+the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a white palfrey
+standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward the driving
+storm.
+
+"By God," cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own Abdul.  There be
+something wrong here indeed." But a rapid search of the vicinity, and loud
+calls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, so they
+pressed on toward Stutevill.
+
+Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found, they
+came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied Bertrade
+from Stutevill.
+
+Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men.  The
+arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had been
+Bertrade's escort from Stutevill.
+
+As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, there
+stared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreaded
+sign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point.
+
+"The curse of God be on him !" cried De Montfort.  "It be the work of the
+Devil of Torn, my gentlemen," he said to his followers.  "Come, we need no
+further guide to our destination." And, remounting, the little party
+spurred back toward Torn.
+
+When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a strange
+room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless old woman,
+whose smile was but a fangless snarl.
+
+"Ho, ho !" she croaked.  "The bride waketh.  I told My Lord that it would
+take more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort.  Come, come, now,
+arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarce restrain
+his eager desire to fold thee in his arms.  Below in the great hall he
+paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous countenance."
+
+"Who be ye ?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from the
+effects of her fall.  "Where am I ?" and then, "O, Mon Dieu !" as she
+remembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon the
+shields of the attacking party.  In an instant she realized the horror of
+her predicament; its utter hopelessness.
+
+Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the King;
+and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause with Henry,
+for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she was the daughter
+of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
+
+In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet, and
+presently a man's voice at the door.
+
+"Within there, Coll !  Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon ?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Peter," replied the old woman, "I was but just urging her to
+arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below."
+
+"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade," called the man, "no harm will be done thee
+if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for.  I will await thee
+in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here."
+
+The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the tones
+of her answer were calm and level.
+
+"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon," and rising, she hastened to
+dress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down the
+stairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
+
+The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl would
+not talk.  Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible means of
+escape.
+
+A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter of
+Colfax.  The room was empty.  Little change had been wrought in the
+apartment since the days of Ethelwolf.  As the girl's glance ranged the
+hall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windows
+beyond which lay freedom.  Would she ever again breathe God's pure air
+outside these stifling walls ?  These grimy hateful walls !  Black as the
+inky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shades less
+begrimed, where repairs had been made.  As her eyes fell upon the trophies
+of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, for she knew
+that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by the personal
+prowess of the present master of Colfax.
+
+A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from a
+small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather to
+accentuate the dim shadows of the place.
+
+Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table, blackened
+by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented and nicked by
+the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when wild and lusty
+brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of some wandering minstrel,
+or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains for the oath of fealty.
+
+Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy chairs
+which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and she
+shuddered.  One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor which
+was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with such bones and
+scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
+
+But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but passing
+heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly have the
+encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store for her.
+
+Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that in
+addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, where she
+had entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall.  This was
+at one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it led into a small
+room, apparently a bedchamber.
+
+As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her and
+directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times.  From the black
+mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax.  Silently, he closed the
+panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl.  At
+the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract her
+attention.
+
+If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his
+appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as she
+said:
+
+"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery
+against thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece ?"
+
+"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent," replied the pot-bellied
+old beast in a soft and fawning tone, "love must still find its way; and so
+thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great father and majestic
+uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous Bertrade, knowing full
+well that thine hath been hungering after it since we didst first avow our
+love to thy hard-hearted sire.  See, I kneel to thee, my dove !" And with
+cracking joints the fat baron plumped down upon his marrow bones.
+
+Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into a
+sneering smile.
+
+"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter," she said, "and, at that, the worst species of
+fool -- an ancient fool.  It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I will
+have none of thee.  Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word of
+what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips.  But let me go, 'tis all I
+ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would have.
+I do not love you, nor ever can I."
+
+Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already
+ruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise with
+dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact that his
+huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours before he could
+rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow, raising his stern
+high in air in a most ludicrous fashion.  As he gained his feet he saw the
+girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on her face.
+
+"Return to thy chamber," he thundered.  "I will give thee until tomorrow to
+decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or take
+another position in his household which will bar thee for all time from the
+society of thy kind."
+
+The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
+
+"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,
+degraded parody of a man.  And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast not
+the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well ye know
+that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own hand if he
+ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daughter."
+And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and mounted to her
+tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
+
+The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late the
+following afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before him
+once more.  So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fears that
+she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire threat,
+and so she had again been casting about for some means of escape or delay.
+
+The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the castle,
+fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasure
+overlooked.  There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.
+The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itself composed
+of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron.
+
+If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she could
+barricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate in
+the hope that succor might come from some source.  But her most subtle
+wiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpy
+jailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herself for
+a lack of means to thwart her captor.
+
+Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the old
+woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
+
+Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the old
+woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl's body to
+see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached quickly to her
+side and snatched the weapon from its sheath.  Quickly she sprang back from
+the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm, rushed upon her.
+
+"Back !" cried the girl.  "Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel the
+length of thine own blade."
+
+The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a most
+horrible manner, at the same time calling for help.
+
+Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where she
+was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into place.
+Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of Colfax, with a
+dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly upon the outside.
+
+"What's wrong within, Coll," cried the Baron.
+
+"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me," shrieked the
+old woman.
+
+"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax," spoke Bertrade, "if you do not
+immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, for I will
+not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own people stand
+without."
+
+Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all in
+vain.  So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle the
+Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner out.
+
+Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding her
+prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single second.
+All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it found her
+position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
+
+Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade her
+to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct to her
+father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be fooled by his
+lying tongue.
+
+"Then will I starve you out," he cried at length.
+
+"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,"
+replied the girl.  "But thy old servant here will starve first, for she be
+very old and not so strong as I.  Therefore, how will it profit you to kill
+two and still be robbed of thy prey ?"
+
+Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would carry
+out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels, axes and
+saws upon the huge door.
+
+For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was late
+at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a hand and
+arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise the bars was drawn
+quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner.  Thus the keen dagger in
+the girl's hand put an end to all hopes of entering without completely
+demolishing the door.
+
+To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter of
+Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had made.
+Bertrade replied but once.
+
+"Seest thou this poniard ?" she asked.  "When that door falls, this point
+enters my heart.  There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,
+to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable."
+
+As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the first
+time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance from the old
+hag.  It was enough.  Silently, but with the quickness of a tigress the old
+woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the wrist which held
+the dagger.
+
+"Quick, My Lord !" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."
+
+Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the door
+and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old woman.
+
+Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at the Baron's
+bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
+
+As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode back
+and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor.  Finally he stopped
+before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
+
+"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort ?" he asked angrily.  "I
+have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of Colfax,
+or, by force, his mistress.  The good priest waits without, what be your
+answer now ?"
+
+"The same as it has been these past two days," she replied with haughty
+scorn.  "The same that it shall always be.  I will be neither wife nor
+mistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man.  I would die, it
+seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me.  You do not dare to touch
+me, you craven.  I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king, wed to
+the warty toad, Peter of Colfax !"
+
+"Hold, chit !" cried the Baron, livid with rage.  "You have gone too far.
+Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere the
+sun rises." And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the arm,
+and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his sojourn
+at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with his wild
+horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a royalist baron
+who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fighting men; and never
+again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of the barons did
+Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their friends.
+
+Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of his
+expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a dozen armed
+knights.  Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn the mission of
+the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible and unhospitable
+fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen knights would venture
+with hostile intent within the clutches of his great band of villains.
+
+The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,
+oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce and
+would have speech with the master of Torn.
+
+"Admit them, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn, "I will speak with them
+here."
+
+When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it found
+itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
+
+Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the outlaw.
+
+"Be ye Norman of Torn ?" he asked.  And, did he try to conceal the hatred
+and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
+
+"They call me so," replied the visored knight.  "And what may bring a De
+Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor ?"
+
+"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn," replied the young man.  "It
+is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you have us
+entirely in your power.  Name your price and it shall be paid, only be
+quick and let me hence with my sister."
+
+"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort ?  Your sister !  What mean
+you ?"
+
+"Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days since,
+after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were fetching her home
+from a visit upon the Baron's daughter.  We know that it was you for the
+foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark."
+
+"Shandy !" roared Norman of Torn.  "WHAT MEANS THIS ?  Who has been upon
+the road, attacking women, in my absence ?  You were here and in charge
+during my visit to my Lord de Grey.  As you value your hide, Shandy, the
+truth !"
+
+"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served you
+well, Norman of Torn.  You should know my loyalty by this time and that
+never have I lied to you.  No man of yours has done this thing, nor is it
+the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon their dead
+that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves."
+
+"Henry de Montfort," said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, "we of
+Torn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say that we
+unsheath our swords against women.  Your sister is not here.  I give you
+the word of honor of Norman of Torn.  Is it not enough ?"
+
+"They say you never lie," replied De Montfort.  "Would to God I knew who
+had done this thing, or which way to search for my sister."
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, and it
+was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart or his rage
+against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore his whole being.
+
+In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passed the
+drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men and the
+noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
+
+Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried their
+mailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman the
+Devil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of the castle
+of Peter of Colfax.
+
+The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressed gates,
+presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
+
+The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancient banded
+mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan.  Gold and
+silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplate and shield,
+and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' head armor showed the
+rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman of Torn's wild raiders.
+
+Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the gray
+banner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of the five
+companies.  The great linden wood shields of the men were covered with gray
+leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was the black falcon's
+wing.  The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, being of dark gray
+villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstanding the richness of
+the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim, gray warlike
+appearance to these wild companies that comported well with their
+reputation.
+
+Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country of
+Europe, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf and
+noble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot, Pict
+and Irish.
+
+Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gall marks of
+his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder to shoulder
+with the outlawed scion of a noble house.  The only requisites for
+admission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and an oath
+to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.
+
+The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, each
+company captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
+
+Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first three
+companies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasoned
+veterans of a thousand fights.
+
+One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always important post of
+chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the five cut-throats
+whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before, in the hut of
+Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle of Torn, which post
+included also the vital functions of quartermaster and commissary.
+
+The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire in the art
+of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in the companies,
+due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and their battles at the
+taking of some feudal castle; in which they did not always come off
+unscathed, though usually victorious.
+
+Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at the
+head of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column.  Above
+his gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest.  It was the
+insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle.  Where
+it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, and about it
+they were wont to rally.
+
+Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;
+nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
+
+At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: Red
+Shandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;
+and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
+
+The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and early afternoon
+brought forth men, women and children to cheer and wave God-speed to them;
+but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn, where the black
+falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of its name than by the kindly
+deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of his neighborhood, they saw only
+closed and barred doors with an occasional frightened face peering from a
+tiny window.
+
+It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouetted
+against the starry sky.  Drawing his men into the shadows of the forest a
+half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandy and some
+fifty men to a point as close as they could come without being observed.
+Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthily forward alone.
+
+Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows of the
+great gate without being detected.  In the castle, a light shone dimly from
+the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life was apparent.  To
+his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridge lowered and no
+sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
+
+As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar with its
+internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he could reach a
+small antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
+
+And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door of the
+little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stood a
+strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword.  The girl saw
+him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.
+
+"Draw !" commanded a low voice in English, "unless you prefer to pray, for
+you are about to die."
+
+"Who be ye, varlet ?" cried the Baron.  "Ho, John !  Ho, Guy !  To the
+rescue, quick !" he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to back
+quickly toward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon
+him and forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
+
+It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John and
+Guy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.
+
+"Ware !  Sir Knight," cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushing
+to the aid of their master.
+
+Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon the
+terror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for the doorway
+bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions, and running
+quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threw the key with
+all her might to the far corner of the hall.  In an instant she regretted
+her act, for she saw that where she might have reduced her rescuer's
+opponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardly Baron to remain,
+and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.
+
+The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, and for
+an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibition of
+swordsmanship she was witnessing.
+
+Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the same time,
+the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced them steadily
+back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel about them.
+Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in the heart of one
+of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor, it was flashing again
+close to the breasts of the two remaining men-at-arms.
+
+Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl's
+attention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfax
+was moving -- slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, toward
+the visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.
+
+For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move a finger
+or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regaining control of her
+muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavy foot-stool, hurled it
+full at Peter of Colfax.
+
+It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as the
+knight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
+
+As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supported the only
+lighted cresset within the chamber.  In an instant, all was darkness.
+There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of rats and then the
+quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
+
+"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade ?" asked a grave English voice
+out of the darkness.
+
+"Quite, Sir Knight," she replied, "and you ?"
+
+"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron ?"
+
+"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin long
+dagger in his hand.  Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be upon you."
+
+The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about the room.
+Soon he had found another lamp and made a light.  As its feeble rays slowly
+penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies of the three
+men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visored knight; but
+Peter of Colfax was gone.
+
+The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed a
+low, grim laugh.
+
+"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade," he said.
+
+"How know you my name ?" she asked.  "Who may you be ?  I do not recognize
+your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms."
+
+He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filled
+with the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Conde who
+had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few short weeks
+since.  Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, and there was
+the marvelous swordplay as well.  It must be he, and yet Roger de Conde had
+spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, it was true, with a
+slight French accent.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the visored knight with quiet
+dignity.
+
+The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her.  For
+years that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatred
+against her kind.  Little children were frightened into obedience by the
+vaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men had come
+to whisper the name with grim, set lips.
+
+"Norman of Torn !" she whispered.  "May God have mercy on my soul !"
+
+Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged across the
+countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill of
+hopelessness, shook his giant frame.
+
+"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly.  "You shall be in your
+father's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon.  And you will be safer
+under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your own mighty
+father, or your royal uncle."
+
+"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn," spoke the girl, "and I
+believe you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort."
+
+"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred of
+Peter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever.  It pleases me to
+do as I do, that is all.  Come."
+
+He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowered drawbridge,
+to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and in answer to a low
+challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that it was he.
+
+"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole.  Bring out to me,
+alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey -- and Shandy,
+when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch !  But no looting,
+Shandy."
+
+Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never been a
+weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime object of his
+many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
+
+The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subaltern and
+signing him to listen, said:
+
+"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged for the love
+of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vague generality.
+Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertrade de Montfort,
+and that, Shandy, is a different matter.  The torch, Shandy, from tower to
+scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting."
+
+"Yes, My Lord," answered Shandy, and departed with his little detachment.
+
+In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter of Colfax.
+
+"He has flown, My Lord," the big fellow reported, and indeed it was true.
+Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castle and, by a
+long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of some priests without
+the lines of Norman of Torn.  By this time, he was several miles on his way
+to the coast and France; for he had recognized the swordsmanship of the
+outlaw, and did not care to remain in England and face the wrath of both
+Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.
+
+"He will return," was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fully
+convinced that the Baron had escaped.
+
+They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places, the
+prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fully expecting a
+summary and horrible death.
+
+When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could now save
+the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and the warriors
+filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade de Montfort,
+leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmed and free.
+
+As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flames that
+sprang high above the lofty towers.  Immense volumes of dense smoke rolled
+southward across the sky line.  Occasionally it would clear away from the
+burning castle for an instant to show the black walls pierced by their
+hundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the raging fire within.
+It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so common in those fierce,
+wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than a passing backward
+glance.
+
+Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wended their
+slow way down the mud-slippery road.  Norman of Torn was both elated and
+sad.  Elated that he had been in time to save this girl who awakened such
+strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was a loathesome thing in her
+eyes.  But that it was pure happiness just to be near her, sufficed him for
+the time; of the morrow, what use to think !  The little, grim, gray, old
+man of Torn nursed the spleen he did not dare vent openly, and cursed the
+chance that had sent Henry de Montfort to Torn to search for his sister;
+while the followers of the outlaw swore quietly over the vagary which had
+brought them on this long ride without either fighting or loot.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe her
+life and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especial
+hatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house of
+Plantagenet.  She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spoken for
+so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might lie beneath
+that barred visor.
+
+Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle's cantel
+and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night air was chilly,
+and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a bad place in the road,
+lest the beast might slip and fall.
+
+She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyond that,
+no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, about midday within
+sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
+
+The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach of so
+large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailing
+distance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fighting men.
+
+Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath the castle
+walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
+
+"Who be ye and what your mission ?  Peace or war ?"
+
+"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a De Montfort,"
+replied Shandy.  "He would enter with one companion, my Lord Earl."
+
+"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort -- thinks he
+that I keep a robbers' roost !" cried the fierce old warrior.
+
+"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England," boasted the red
+giant.  "Will you see him in peace, My Lord ?"
+
+"Let him enter," said De Montfort, "but no knavery, now, we are a thousand
+men here, well armed and ready fighters."
+
+Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman of Torn
+and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneath the
+portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law of Henry
+III of England.
+
+The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for it had
+been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's men without
+being recognized.  In the courtyard, they were met by Simon de Montfort,
+and his sons Henry and Simon.
+
+The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging aside the
+outlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
+
+"What means this," cried De Montfort, "has the rascal offered you harm or
+indignity ?"
+
+"You craven liar," cried Henry de Montfort, "but yesterday you swore upon
+your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool, believed."
+And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Norman of Torn with
+drawn sword.
+
+Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flew from
+its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent the blade of
+young De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then, before either
+could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprung between them and
+placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw, stretched forth the
+other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen as though to protect Norman
+of Torn from further assault.
+
+"Be he outlaw or devil," she cried, "he is a brave and courteous knight,
+and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitality
+they can give, and not cold steel and insults." Then she explained briefly
+to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen during the past few
+days.
+
+Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the first to
+step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and to ask his
+pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
+
+The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
+
+"Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman of Torn.
+I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passing moment; but
+for life.  I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude, but let them
+not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil, and that you
+have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead.  I would gladly have your
+friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman of Torn, with all his faults,
+as well as what virtues you may think him to possess."
+
+"You are right, sir," said the Earl, "you have our gratitude and our thanks
+for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and ever during
+our lives you may command our favors.  I admire your bravery and your
+candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may not break bread
+at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the right to do."
+
+"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man," said Norman of Torn
+quietly.  "I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel with
+the House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, they are
+at your service, a thousand strong.  Goodbye." But as he turned to go,
+Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
+
+"You must take my hand in friendship," she said, "for, to my dying day, I
+must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror from which
+he has rescued me."
+
+He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee
+raised them to his lips.
+
+"To no other -- woman, man, king, God, or devil -- has Norman of Torn bent
+the knee.  If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that his
+services are yours for the asking."
+
+And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard of the
+castle of Leicester.  Without a backward glance, and with his five hundred
+men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning in the
+roadway.
+
+"A strange man," said Simon de Montfort, "both good and bad, but from
+today, I shall ever believe more good than bad.  Would that he were other
+than he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies of
+England, an he could be persuaded to our cause."
+
+"Who knows," said Henry de Montfort, "but that an offer of friendship might
+have won him to a better life.  It seemed that in his speech was a note of
+wistfulness.  I wish, father, that we had taken his hand."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+Several days after Norman of Torn's visit to the castle of Leicester, a
+young knight appeared before the Earl's gates demanding admittance to have
+speech with Simon de Montfort.  The Earl received him, and as the young man
+entered his presence, Simon de Montfort, sprang to his feet in
+astonishment.
+
+"My Lord Prince," he cried.  "What do ye here, and alone ?"
+
+The young man smiled.
+
+"I be no prince, My Lord," he said, "though some have said that I favor the
+King's son.  I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have pleased your gracious
+daughter to mention.  I have come to pay homage to Bertrade de Montfort."
+
+"Ah," said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially, "an you
+be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows of Peter of
+Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you.
+
+"Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her return.
+She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father.  She has told us
+of your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her brothers and
+mother await you, Roger de Conde.
+
+"She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until I
+saw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different mothers and
+yet be so identical.  Come, we will seek out my daughter and her mother."
+
+De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were greeted by
+Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort.  The girl was
+frankly glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him because he had
+allowed another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her from Peter of
+Colfax.
+
+"And to think," she cried, "that it should have been Norman of Torn who
+fulfilled your duties for you.  But he did not capture Sir Peter's head, my
+friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon a golden dish."
+
+"I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade," said Roger de Conde.  "Peter of
+Colfax will return."
+
+The girl glanced at him quickly.
+
+"The very words of the Outlaw of Torn," she said.  "How many men be ye,
+Roger de Conde ?  With raised visor, you could pass in the King's court for
+the King's son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and your visor
+lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of Torn."
+
+"And which would it please ye most that I be ?" he laughed.
+
+"Neither," she answered, "I be satisfied with my friend, Roger de Conde."
+
+"So ye like not the Devil of Torn ?" he asked.
+
+"He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligations to
+him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of an earl
+and a king's sister."
+
+"A most unbridgeable gulf indeed," commented Roger de Conde, drily.  "Not
+even gratitude could lead a king's niece to receive Norman of Torn on a
+footing of equality."
+
+"He has my friendship, always," said the girl, "but I doubt me if Norman of
+Torn be the man to impose upon it."
+
+"One can never tell," said Roger de Conde, "what manner of fool a man may
+be.  When a man's head be filled with a pretty face, what room be there for
+reason ?"
+
+"Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning of pretty
+compliments," said the girl coldly; "and I like not courtiers, nor their
+empty, hypocritical chatter."
+
+The man laughed.
+
+"If I turned a compliment, I did not know it," he said.  "What I think, I
+say.  It may not be a courtly speech or it may.  I know nothing of courts
+and care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what is in my
+mind or I say nothing.  I did not, in so many words, say that you are
+beautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry with my poor
+eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer woman breathes the
+air of England.  Nor can you chide my sinful brain that it gladly believes
+what mine eyes tell it.  No, you may not be angry so long as I do not tell
+you all this."
+
+Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous a sophistry;
+and, truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear from the lips of
+Roger de Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men.
+
+De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, and
+before his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way into the
+good graces of the family that they were loath to see him leave.
+
+Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire life,
+yet it seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their kind as
+though he had always been among them.  His starved soul, groping through
+the darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting and the light
+of friendship, and urged him to turn his back upon the old life, and remain
+ever with these people, for Simon de Montfort had offered the young man a
+position of trust and honor in his retinue.
+
+"Why refused you the offer of my father ?" said Bertrade to him as he was
+come to bid her farewell.  "Simon de Montfort is as great a man in England
+as the King himself, and your future were assured did you attach your self
+to his person.  But what am I saying !  Did Roger de Conde not wish to be
+elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it is proof positive
+that he does not wish to bide among the De Montforts."
+
+"I would give my soul to the devil," said Norman of Torn, "would it buy me
+the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade Montfort."
+
+He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak, but
+something -- was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her little fingers,
+a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body toward him ?  -- caused
+him to pause and raise his eyes to hers.
+
+For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep into the
+eyes of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh that was half
+gasp, she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded the King's niece
+in his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a great love upon those
+that were upturned to him.
+
+The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself.
+
+"Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade," he cried, "what is this thing that I have
+done !  Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love for you
+plead in extenuation of my act."
+
+She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong white
+hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:
+
+"See, Roger, I am not angry.  It is not wrong that we love; tell me it is
+not, Roger."
+
+"You must not say that you love me, Bertrade.  I am a coward, a craven
+poltroon; but, God, how I love you."
+
+"But," said the girl, "I do love -- "
+
+"Stop," he cried, "not yet, not yet.  Do not say it till I come again.  You
+know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when next I come, I
+promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, and then,
+Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, 'I love you' no power on earth,
+or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from being mine !"
+
+"I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you.  I do not
+understand, but I know that you must have some good reason, though it all
+seems very strange to me.  If I, a De Montfort, am willing to acknowledge
+my love for any man, there can be no reason why I should not do so,
+unless," and she started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed and paling,
+"unless there be another woman, a -- a -- wife ?"
+
+"There is no other woman, Bertrade," said Norman of Torn.  "I have no wife;
+nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever before touched the
+lips of another, for I do not remember my mother."
+
+She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:
+
+"It is some old woman's bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark corner of
+your imagination to frighten yourself with.  I do not fear, since I know
+that you must be all good.  There be no line of vice or deception upon your
+face and you are very brave.  So brave and noble a man, Roger, has a heart
+of pure gold."
+
+"Don't," he said, bitterly.  "I cannot endure it.  Wait until I come again
+and then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in your heart to
+speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be at zenith.
+Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father.  Farewell,
+Bertrade, in a few days I return."
+
+"If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent young
+puppy, you may save your breath," thundered an angry voice, and Simon de
+Montfort strode, scowling, into the room.
+
+The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting blood of
+the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire.  She faced him with
+as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turned slowly,
+fixing De Montfort with level gaze.
+
+"I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor,"
+continued the latter, "to readily guess what had gone before.  So it is for
+this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home ?  And thought you
+that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the head of the first
+passing rogue ?  Who be ye, but a nameless rascal ?  For aught we know,
+some low born lackey.  Get ye hence, and be only thankful that I do not aid
+you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good."
+
+"Stop !" cried the girl.  "Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Roger de
+Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse, herself
+befouled and dishonored ?"
+
+"I do not forget," replied the Earl, "and.  it is because I remember that
+my sword remains in its scabbard.  The fellow has been amply repaid by the
+friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wiped clean the
+score.  An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere I lose my
+temper."
+
+"There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord," spoke Norman
+of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement.  "Your daughter
+has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate asking you for her
+hand.  When next I come, first shall I see her and if she will have me, My
+Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wed her.  Norm -- Roger
+de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he would do."
+
+Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to control
+himself to say,
+
+"My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closed
+negotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louis of
+France.  And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of the
+Outlaw of Torn.  He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that be
+known outside his own armor.  But enough of this; get you gone, nor let me
+see your face again within the walls of Leicester's castle."
+
+"You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to be quarreling
+with words," said the outlaw.  "Farewell, My Lady.  I shall return as I
+promised, and your word shall be law." And with a profound bow to De
+Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a few minutes was
+riding through the courtyard of the castle toward the main portals.
+
+As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called to him
+from above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes of
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"Take this, Roger de Conde," she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel to him,
+"and wear it ever, for my sake.  We may never meet again, for the Earl my
+father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions; therefore I
+shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my saying.  I love you,
+and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if you can find the means to
+take me."
+
+"Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye be of the
+same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye.  Again, farewell."
+And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Torn passed out of
+the castle yard.
+
+When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found that it
+contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal.
+
+The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and then slipped
+it upon the third finger of his left hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester "in a few days,"
+nor for many months.  For news came to him that Bertrade de Montfort had
+been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
+
+From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks on
+royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even Berkshire
+and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the outlaw.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form of
+Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard no word
+from her.
+
+He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he had
+parted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had left his
+brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of his hopes,
+and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean only suffering and
+mortification for the woman he loved.
+
+His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from the
+subtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love, would
+doubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in the heat of a
+divine passion.  He would wait, then, until fate threw them together, and
+should that ever chance, while she was still free, he would let her know
+that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one and the same.
+
+If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not.  No it is impossible.
+It is better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored, the
+wife of a common highwayman; for though she might love me at first, the
+bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate.
+
+As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father Claude,
+the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations; the
+unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand which
+Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King and baron were
+declared.
+
+"It would seem that Henry," said the priest, "by his continued breaches of
+both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging the barons
+to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince Edward to
+take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carry the ravages
+of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces me that he be, by
+this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and his associates."
+
+"If that be the case," said Norman of Torn, "we shall have war and fighting
+in real earnest ere many months."
+
+"And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight ?" asked
+Father Claude.
+
+"Under the black falcon's wing," laughed he of Torn.
+
+"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son," said the priest, smiling.
+"Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman.  With thy soldierly
+qualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in the
+paths of honest men.  Dost remember our past talk ?"
+
+"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't.  I have one more duty to
+perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thy
+suggestion, but only on one condition."
+
+"What be that, my son ?"
+
+"That wheresoere I go, thou must go also.  Thou be my best friend; in
+truth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old man of
+Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I much mistrust, be
+no father to me."
+
+The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes before he
+spoke.
+
+Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the windows,
+listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came to his
+attentive ears.  It was Spizo, the Spaniard.  He crouched entirely
+concealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid his
+traitorous form.
+
+At length the priest spoke.
+
+"Norman of Torn," he said, "so long as thou remain in England, pitting thy
+great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons of his
+realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another.  Thyself hast said
+an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatred against
+them.  Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselessly away to
+satisfy the choler of another.
+
+"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I guess
+and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope that it be
+false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the question to be
+settled.  Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I be an old man and
+versed in reading true between the lines, and so I know that thou lovest
+Bertrade de Montfort.  Nay, do not deny it.  And now, what I would say be
+this.  In all England there lives no more honorable man than Simon de
+Montfort, nor none who could more truly decide upon thy future and thy
+past.  Thou may not understand of what I hint, but thou know that thou may
+trust me, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father," replied the outlaw.
+
+"Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt come
+hither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by his
+decision should my surmises concerning thee be correct.  He will be the
+best judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless."
+
+"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride
+south."
+
+"It shall be by the third day, or not at all," replied Father Claude, and
+Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of the lilac
+bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw chief
+and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim, gray,
+old man.
+
+As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in
+anger.
+
+"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted near
+twenty years," he muttered, "if I find not the means to quiet his half-wit
+tongue.  Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now.  Well
+then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now be as good
+a time as any.  If we come near enough to the King's men on this trip
+south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shall taste the
+fruits of his own tyranny," then glancing up and realizing that Spizo, the
+Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling, cried:
+
+"What said I, sirrah ?  What didst hear ?"
+
+"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently", replied the
+Spaniard.
+
+The old man eyed him closely.
+
+"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of Father
+Claude and entered.
+
+"I am honored," said the priest, rising.
+
+"Priest," cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, "Norman of
+Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here.  I know
+not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not out thy
+design as yet.  I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best that this
+meeting take place after we return from the south."
+
+The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so the
+latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until later.
+
+A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the head of
+his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward London town.
+One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and other servants, and
+five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents and other impedimenta,
+and bring back the loot.
+
+But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left to
+guard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
+
+At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray, old
+man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the catapult
+detachment; then came the sumpter beasts.  Horsan the Dane, with his
+company, formed the rear guard.  Three hundred yards in advance of the
+column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
+
+The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling of
+sword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and ear
+ample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon no
+peaceful mission.
+
+All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn.  Beside those whom we have
+met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron of Cobarth of
+Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England.  Like their leader, each of
+these fierce warriors carried a great price upon his head, and the story of
+the life of any one would fill a large volume with romance, war, intrigue,
+treachery, bravery and death.
+
+Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they came
+upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women.  The meeting was at
+a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other before the
+ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair wards.
+
+"What the devil be this," cried one of the knights, as the main body of the
+outlaw horde came into view, "the King's army or one of his foreign
+legions ?"
+
+"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men," replied the outlaw.
+
+The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand,
+and there were two women with them.
+
+"Who be ye ?" said the outlaw.
+
+"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest knight, he who had first
+spoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de Stutevill.  We
+are upon our way from London to my castle.  What would you of us ?  Name
+your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid; only let us go
+our way in peace.  We cannot hope to resist the Devil of Torn, for we be
+but ten lances.  If ye must have blood, at least let the women go
+unharmed."
+
+"My Lady Mary is an old friend," said the outlaw.  "I called at her
+father's home but little more than a year since.  We are neighbors, and the
+lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of Torn than
+they might be in the King's palace."
+
+"Right he is," spoke up Lady Mary, "Norman of Torn accorded my mother, my
+sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as much for his
+treatment of my father," she added, half smiling.
+
+"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said Norman of Torn.  "Ride
+on."
+
+The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle of
+Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger de
+Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
+
+In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Norman of
+Torn trotted into the courtyard.
+
+He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tany
+were waiting to receive him.  Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an old
+friend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming her
+friend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle.
+
+"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex," cried
+Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary.  "Today it is Roger de Conde,
+yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn.  Methinks Derby will soon be
+depopulated unless you return quickly to your home."
+
+"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from Roger
+de Conde," said Mary, smiling.  "For I have heard tales, and I see a great
+ring upon the gentleman's hand -- a ring which I have seen before."
+
+Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but asked
+bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"Thrice within the year have I received missives from her," replied Mary.
+"In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why he did
+not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not his name,
+but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip."
+
+Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly, but no
+sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his face.
+
+"I guess it be better so," he said quietly.  "The daughter of a De Montfort
+could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer," he added, a little
+bitterly.
+
+"You wrong her, my friend," said Mary de Stutevill.  "She loved you and,
+unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself, she
+loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what can you
+expect when she hears no word from you for a year ?  Thought you that she
+would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the alliance her
+father has made for her ?"
+
+"You do not understand," he answered, "and I may not tell you; but I ask
+that you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of mind, for
+her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France.  But, let us talk
+of other things.  The sorrow is mine and I would not force it upon others.
+I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy.  It will never
+be given to me to make her or any other woman so.  I would that I had never
+come into her life, but I did not know what I was doing; and the spell of
+her beauty and goodness was strong upon me, so that I was weak and could
+not resist what I had never known before in all my life - love."
+
+"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously.  "Bertrade
+de Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benediction
+simply to have known her."
+
+As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first time,
+and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she spoke, her
+face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of intelligence and
+character that cast a spell of fascination about her.  Yes, Joan de Tany
+was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried a wounded heart in his
+breast that longed for surcease from its sufferings -- for a healing balm
+upon its hurts and bruises.
+
+And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a daily
+visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance between the
+man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and with one of them,
+it threatened even more.
+
+Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only friendship
+in the little acts of Joan de Tany.  His life had been a hard and lonely
+one.  The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had entered it
+had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
+
+His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him, but
+he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the
+friendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest.  He did not dream
+that either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweet
+friendliness which was as new to him as love -- how could he mark the line
+between or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance !
+
+Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow in
+matters of the heart -- many there were, she knew, who were thus.  She
+might have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let things
+drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
+
+"Be careful of thy heart, Joan," she said, "lest it be getting away from
+thee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than he
+forgets."
+
+The daughter of De Tany flushed.
+
+"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill," she
+replied warmly.  "If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so.  Do not
+think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine is equally
+susceptible."
+
+It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on her
+tongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.
+Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
+
+"I do not love him," she said, "and I be glad that you do not, for I know
+that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore undying love
+for her.  Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject."
+
+It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands of
+the rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stinging
+defeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe for
+small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into the hands of
+the mercenaries of Henry III.
+
+Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the attacks
+of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find them suffering
+imprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King's supporters.
+
+And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan de
+Tany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of the
+merchants.
+
+While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King's
+party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of
+London was beset with many dangers.
+
+"Why," cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "between robbers and
+royalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an army
+to escort you."
+
+"But then, as I have no army," retorted the laughing girl, "if you reason
+by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe."
+
+And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him with
+being afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he might
+remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.
+
+And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road to
+London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger de Conde
+was of the party.
+
+At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from the
+outlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders were
+to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany, with Roger
+de Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he bore to the
+captain of the gate.
+
+The letter contained this brief message:
+
+"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn," and was
+unsigned.
+
+All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who had
+attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered two
+parties of armed men approaching from opposite directions.  The leader of
+the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and, reining
+in before them, cried brusquely,
+
+"Who be ye ?"
+
+"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London," replied Norman of
+Torn.
+
+"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow.  "I asked, who be ye ?
+Answer, and be quick about it."
+
+"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters and
+servants," lied the outlaw, "and were it not that the ladies be with me,
+your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorish
+insolence."
+
+"There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a French
+coward," cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
+
+Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Roger de
+Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw and
+understood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as he
+heard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.
+
+Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were some
+ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt.  As they came together the impact
+was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two powerful
+war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each struck the
+exact center of his opponent's shield.  Then, wheeling their horses and
+throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde and the
+officer advanced with drawn swords.
+
+The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting to
+ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from the
+tip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew the
+battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling and
+turning shoulder to shoulder.
+
+The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the eyes
+of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed every move
+of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
+
+He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim and
+haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many words the
+utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary.  And as Joan de
+Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hard line, and
+the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman's intuition read
+the death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword of the outlaw buried
+itself in his heart.
+
+The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat spellbound
+as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpse rolled from
+the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his little party.
+
+The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even with
+the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was apparent
+from the first.
+
+Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to the
+thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their saddles
+as his leaping point found their vitals.
+
+Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one, an old servitor, spurred
+to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.
+
+"Come, my ladies," he cried, "quick and you may escape.  They be so busy
+with the battle that they will never notice."
+
+"Take the Lady Mary, John," cried Joan, "I brought Roger de Conde to this
+pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end."
+
+"But, My Lady -- " cried John.
+
+"But nothing, sirrah !" she interrupted sharply.  "Do as you are bid.
+Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father's castle in
+safety," and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey across the
+rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leaped
+frantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they had
+come.
+
+"After her, John," commanded Joan peremptorily, and see that you turn not
+back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring aid."
+
+The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan from
+her earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that he
+wheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Mary de
+Stutevill.
+
+As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fully
+twenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy toll
+of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked him from
+behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full upon his
+helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as his lifeless body
+rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-tramped clay of the
+highroad.
+
+She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his prostrate
+form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling, steel-clad
+horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him.  And well it was for
+Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day, for even as she
+reached his side, the sword point of one of the soldiers was at his throat
+for the coup de grace.
+
+With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body, shielding
+him as best she could from the threatening sword.
+
+Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her from
+his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped up and
+drew rein beside the party.
+
+The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,
+black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often seen
+upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor to
+positions of power and affluence.
+
+He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for years
+one of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort and the
+barons.
+
+"What now ?" he cried.  "What goes on here ?"
+
+The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
+
+"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routed
+them, taking these two prisoners."
+
+"Who be ye ?" he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside De
+Conde, and as she raised her head, "My God !  The daughter of De Tany !  a
+noble prize indeed my men.  And who be the knight ?"
+
+"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl," replied the girl removing the helm,
+which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
+
+"Edward ?" he ejaculated.  "But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterday leave
+Edward in Dover."
+
+"I know not who he be," said Joan de Tany, "except that he be the most
+marvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see.  He
+called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than that he
+looks like a prince, and fights like a devil.  I think he has no quarrel
+with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make war on
+women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your soldiers
+wantonly set upon us."
+
+"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troublous
+times," replied the Earl, "and that alone were enough to necessitate my
+keeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so I
+will grant you at least one favor.  I will not take you to the King, but a
+prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need the
+cheering company of a fair and loving lady."
+
+The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
+
+"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to some
+comely scullery maid ?  Do you forget that my house is honored in England,
+even though it does not share the King's favors with his foreign favorites,
+and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany ?"
+
+"All be fair in war, my beauty," replied the Earl.  "Egad," he continued,
+"methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you.  It has been
+some years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richard de
+Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle."
+
+"Then you refuse to release us ?" said Joan de Tany.
+
+"Let us not put it thus harshly," countered the Earl.  "Rather let us say
+that it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers that the
+Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautiful daughter
+of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so -- "
+
+"Let us have an end to such foolishness," cried the girl.  "I might have
+expected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee, who once
+joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his friends to
+curry favor with the King."
+
+The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the girl,
+but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers, saying:
+
+"Bring the prisoner with you.  If the man lives bring him also.  I would
+learn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crown
+prince."
+
+And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel baron
+which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as headquarters
+by De Fulm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a small tower
+room in a strange castle.  His head ached horribly, and he felt sick and
+sore; but he managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, and by
+steadying his swaying body with hands pressed against the wall, he was able
+to reach the door.  To his disappointment, he found this locked from
+without and, in his weakened condition, he made no attempt to force it.
+
+He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, but his
+helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger.
+
+The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened, he
+became more and more impatient.  Repeated pounding upon the door brought no
+response and finally he gave up in despair.  Going to the window, he saw
+that his room was some thirty feet above the stone-flagged courtyard, and
+also that it looked at an angle upon other windows in the old castle where
+lights were beginning to show.  He saw men-at-arms moving about, and once
+he thought he caught a glimpse of a woman's figure, but he was not sure.
+
+He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.  He
+hoped that they had escaped, and yet -- no, Joan certainly had not, for now
+he distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instant just
+before the blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith and confidence
+that he had read in that quick glance.  Such a look would nerve a jackal to
+attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw.  What a beautiful creature she
+was; and she had stayed there with him during the fight.  He remembered
+now.  Mary de Stutevill had not been with her as he had caught that glimpse
+of her, no, she had been all alone.  Ah !  That was friendship indeed !
+
+What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of his
+bruised and wavering memory ?  Words ?  Words of love ?  And lips pressed
+to his ?  No, it must be but a figment of his wounded brain.
+
+What was that which clicked against his breastplate ?  He felt, and found a
+metal bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of silken
+hair.  He carried the little thing to the window, and in the waning light
+made it out to be a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, but he
+could not tell if the little strand of silken hair were black or brown.
+Carefully he detached the little thing, and, winding the filmy tress about
+it, placed it within the breast of his tunic.  He was vaguely troubled by
+it, yet why he could scarcely have told, himself.
+
+Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within his
+vision, and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knight coming
+within the scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber.
+
+From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently in heated
+discussion with some one whom Norman of Torn could not see.  The man, a
+great, tall black-haired and mustached nobleman, was pounding upon a table
+to emphasize his words, and presently he sprang up as though rushing toward
+the one to whom he had been speaking.  He disappeared from the watcher's
+view for a moment and then, at the far side of the apartment, Norman of
+Torn saw him again just as he roughly grasped the figure of a woman who
+evidently was attempting to escape him.  As she turned to face her
+tormentor, all the devil in the Devil of Torn surged in his aching head,
+for the face he saw was that of Joan de Tany.
+
+With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself against the
+bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavy feet
+without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one was fitted to
+the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wall beside the
+doorway, where the inswinging door would conceal him.
+
+As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly, the
+interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, the visitor
+did not see that the cot was empty.
+
+He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword.  That was enough for
+the Devil of Torn -- it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellow
+could assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closed
+upon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw.
+
+Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, and the
+clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger at his
+side, the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary.
+
+Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tugging with
+ever diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath.  Slowly
+and feebly he raised it high above the back of the man on top of him; with
+a last supreme effort he drove the point downward, but ere it reached its
+goal, there was a sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone, the dagger fell
+harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolled backward upon his broken
+neck.
+
+Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of Torn
+rushed from the tower room.
+
+As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joan de
+Tany, she turned upon him like a tigress.  Blow after blow she rained upon
+his head and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck her full upon
+the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this did not subdue her and,
+with ever weakening strength, she continued to strike him.  And then the
+great royalist Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took the fair white
+throat between his great fingers, and the lust of blood supplanted the lust
+of love, for he would have killed her in his rage.
+
+It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword.
+They were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at the
+sight caused the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword to meet
+him.
+
+There were no words, for there was no need of words here.  The two men were
+upon each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl had regained
+her feet.  It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm had not some of
+his men heard the fracas, and rushed to his aid.
+
+Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room, fairly
+falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swords into him;
+but once they met that master hand, they went more slowly, and in a moment,
+two of them went no more at all, and the others, with the Earl, were but
+circling warily in search of a chance opening -- an opening which never
+came.
+
+Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of the room,
+and behind him stood Joan de Tany.
+
+"Move toward the left," she whispered.  "I know this old pile.  When you
+reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorway directly
+behind you.  Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel my hand in
+your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, which you must
+turn and quickly bolt after us.  Do you understand ?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in the meantime
+keeping up an infernal howling for help.  The Earl was careful to keep out
+of reach of the point of De Conde's sword, and the men-at-arms were nothing
+loath to emulate their master's example.
+
+Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, and
+emboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde came too
+close.  As he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman of Torn
+felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his sword swung
+with a resounding blow against the lamp.
+
+As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him through the little
+door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she had instructed.
+
+"This way," she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, in
+silence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stopped
+before a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room.
+
+Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding.  More and
+more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resounded through
+the castle.
+
+"What is wrong ?" asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing
+perturbation.
+
+"Mon Dieu !" she cried.  "Can I be wrong !  Surely this is the room.  Oh,
+my friend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness and
+vanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I forget the
+way."
+
+"Do not worry about me," laughed the Devil of Torn.  "Methought that it was
+I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else, for surely,
+that be my only excuse for running away from a handful of swords.  I could
+not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan," he added more gravely.
+
+ The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection from
+flickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers.
+
+At last the girl, with a little cry of "stupid," seized De Conde and rushed
+him to the far side of the room.
+
+"Here it is," she whispered joyously, "here it has been all the time."
+Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little hidden
+spring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in,
+revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind.
+
+Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panel
+swung quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen men entered
+the apartment.
+
+"The devil take them," cried De Fulm.  "Where can they have gone ?  Surely
+we were right behind them."
+
+"It is passing strange, My Lord," replied one of the men.  "Let us try the
+floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have not come this way."
+And the party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment empty.
+
+Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand
+still in his.
+
+"Where now ?" he asked.  "Or do we stay hidden here like frightened chicks
+until the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of this musty
+hole ?"
+
+"Wait," she answered, "until I quiet my nerves a little.  I am all
+unstrung." He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his.
+
+With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that his arm
+fell about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be brave and
+powerful; naught can harm you while I am here.
+
+Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it by the
+sheltering darkness.
+
+"Roger," she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name.  "I
+thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolish
+stubbornness.  Canst forgive me ?"
+
+"Forgive ?" he asked, smiling to himself.  "Forgive being given an
+opportunity to fight ?  There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it be
+that I should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly."
+
+"Do not say that," she commanded.  "Never was such bravery or such
+swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man."
+
+He did not answer.  His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts.  The feel
+of her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vague caress upon
+his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leaned against him sent the
+hot blood coursing through his veins.  He was puzzled, for he had not
+dreamed that friendship was so sweet.  That she did not shrink from his
+encircling arms should have told him much, but Norman of Torn was slow to
+realize that a woman might look upon him with love.  Nor had he a thought
+of any other sentiment toward her than that of friend and protector.
+
+And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautiful
+face -- Bertrade de Montfort's -- and Norman of Torn was still more
+puzzled; for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within
+him.  Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all
+his starved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men or
+women, it is little to be wondered at that he was easily impressionable and
+responsive to the feeling his strong personality had awakened in two of
+England's fairest daughters.
+
+But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faint
+realization that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendship or
+fear which caused that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him.  That
+the responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaintance had so
+quickly reached was not his had never for a moment entered his head.  To
+him, the fault was all his; and perhaps it was this quality of chivalry
+that was the finest of the many noble characteristics of his sterling
+character.  So his next words were typical of the man; and did Joan de Tany
+love him, or did she not, she learned that night to respect and trust him
+as she respected and trusted few men of her acquaintance.
+
+"My Lady," said Norman of Torn, "we have been through much, and we are as
+little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon our
+acquaintance," and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, "I ask you
+to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and from the pain
+of the blow upon my head."
+
+Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his hand
+and led him forward through a dark, cold corridor.
+
+"We must go carefully now," she said at last, "for there be stairs near."
+
+He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps than
+conditions required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward, very
+slowly down a flight of rough stone steps.
+
+Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being new at
+love, he blundered.
+
+"Joan de Tany," he said.
+
+"Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you ?"
+
+"You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me.  Tell me that you
+forgive what I have done, an it offended you.  I have so few friends," he
+added sadly, "that I cannot afford to lose such as you."
+
+"You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany," she answered.  "You
+have won her respect and -- and -- " But she could not say it and so she
+trailed off lamely -- "and undying gratitude."
+
+But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he dared to
+let her.  He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade de
+Montfort before him; and now another vision arose that would effectually
+have sealed his lips had not the other -- he saw the Outlaw of Torn
+dangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet.
+
+Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it, and
+while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love for him,
+again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he did not
+return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survive the
+knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn.
+
+Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tany led
+him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, a large
+chamber.  The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and no ray of light
+penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke the stillness.
+
+"This be the castle's crypt," whispered Joan; "and they do say that strange
+happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, and that when the
+castle sleeps, the castle's dead rise from their coffins and shake their
+dry bones.
+
+"Sh !  What was that ?" as a rustling noise broke upon their ears close
+upon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tany
+fled to the refuge of Norman of Torn's arms.
+
+"There is nothing to fear, Joan," reassured Norman of Torn.  "Dead men
+wield not swords, nor do they move, or moan.  The wind, I think, and rats
+are our only companions here."
+
+"I am afraid," she whispered.  "If you can make a light, I am sure you will
+find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be less fearsome.  As
+a child I visited this castle often, and in search of adventure, we passed
+through these corridors an hundred times, but always by day and with
+lights."
+
+Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it.  The
+chamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and some
+effigies in marble set at intervals about the walls.
+
+"Not such a fearsome place after all," he said, laughing lightly.
+
+"No place would seem fearsome now," she answered simply, "were there a
+light to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my side."
+
+"Hush, child," replied the outlaw.  "You know not what you say.  When you
+know me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde is not
+what you think him.  So say no more of praise until we be out of this hole,
+and you safe in your father's halls."
+
+The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to again bring
+the girl's face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet breath upon his
+cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to her.
+
+With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a few
+moments, reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway.
+
+"This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle.  We have
+passed beneath the walls and the moat.  What may we do now, Roger, without
+horses ?"
+
+"Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the cover
+of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to your father's
+castle," replied Norman of Torn.
+
+Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch upon
+the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and stepped
+forth into the fresh night air.
+
+The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had there
+ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it was with
+difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling creepers and
+tendrils.  The girl stumbled after him and twice fell before they had taken
+a score of steps.
+
+"I fear I am not strong enough," she said finally.  "The way is much more
+difficult than I had thought."
+
+So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on through
+the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine.  It required
+the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to the roadway;
+and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and her hair brushed
+his cheek.  Once when she lifted her head to speak to him, he bent toward
+her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushed hers.  He felt her
+little form tremble in his arms, and a faint sigh breathed from her lips.
+
+They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down.  A mist was
+before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered those
+warm lips with his own.  Slowly, his face inclined toward hers, closer and
+closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear cut and
+distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of Torn swinging
+by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside it knelt a woman
+gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels.  Her face was averted and her
+arms were outstretched toward the dangling form that swung and twisted from
+the grim, gaunt arm.  Her figure was racked with choking sobs of
+horror-stricken grief.  Presently she staggered to her feet and turned
+away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her features for an instant
+then -- the woman who openly and alone mourned the dead Outlaw of Torn was
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan de Tany
+to the ground.  In that instant Norman of Torn had learned the difference
+between friendship and love, and love and passion.
+
+The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyed and
+wondering, toward him.  She had felt the wild call of love and she could
+not understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen no vision beyond
+a life of happiness within those strong arms.
+
+"Joan," he said, "I would but now have wronged thee.  Forgive me.  Forget
+what has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightful colors,
+when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer upon us, and
+then," -- he paused -- "and then I shall tell you who I be and you shall
+say if you still care to call me friend -- no more than that shall I ask."
+
+He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de Montfort,
+but it had been a thousand times better had he done so.
+
+She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from the surrounding
+shadows, calling upon them to surrender.  The moonlight falling upon the
+leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with an enormous, bristling
+mustache -- it was Shandy.
+
+Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword.
+
+"It is I, Shandy," he said.  "Keep a still tongue in thy head until I speak
+with thee apart.  Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be friends."
+
+Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow had become
+alarmed at his chief's continued absence, and had set out with a small
+party to search for him.  They had come upon the riderless Sir Mortimer
+grazing by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, had discovered
+evidences of the conflict at the cross-roads.  There they had found Norman
+of Torn's helmet, confirming their worst fears.  A peasant in a nearby hut
+had told them of the encounter, and had set them upon the road taken by the
+Earl and his prisoners.
+
+"And here we be, My Lord," concluded the great fellow.
+
+"How many are you ?" asked the outlaw.
+
+"Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes."
+
+"Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us," said the chief.
+"And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night with the
+Outlaw of Torn."
+
+"Yes, My Lord."
+
+They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward the
+castle of Richard de Tany.
+
+Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprang out
+of the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, a
+gentleman of France.
+
+There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where had she
+seen that mighty frame before ?  And now she looked closely at the figure
+of Roger de Conde.  Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two men
+together; but where and when ?
+
+And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind.  Roger de
+Conde spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words upon
+this man's lips as he addressed the red giant.
+
+Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who had picked
+it up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with lowered visor, as
+was his custom.
+
+There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the moonlight
+touched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who rode behind
+him, a little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany.
+
+Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, and a
+great shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:
+
+"Open !  Open for My Lady Joan."
+
+Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle and
+excitement.  A dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out still
+others without waiting for replies.
+
+Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fully
+clothed, having not lain down during the whole night.  They fairly fell
+upon Joan and Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief.
+
+"Come, come," said the Baron, "let us go within.  You must be fair famished
+for good food and drink."
+
+"I will ride, My Lord," replied Norman of Torn.  "I have a little matter of
+business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham.  Business which I fear
+will not wait."
+
+Joan de Tany looked on in silence.  Nor did she urge him to remain, as he
+raised her hand to his lips in farewell.  So Norman of Torn rode out of the
+courtyard; and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays of the
+drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched them through the gate, and a
+great light broke upon her, for what she saw was the same as she had seen a
+few days since when she had turned in her saddle to watch the retreating
+forms of the cut-throats of Torn as they rode on after halting her father's
+party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through the
+ravine below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had his
+headquarters; while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods before the
+grim pile.
+
+Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the little
+door through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before.  Following
+the corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stone
+stairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the false panel that had
+given the two fugitives egress.
+
+Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartment followed
+closely by his henchmen.  On they went, through apartment after apartment,
+but no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded their search, and it was
+soon apparent that the castle was deserted.
+
+As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man basking in
+the sun, upon a bench.  The sight of them nearly caused the old fellow to
+die of fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the untenanted halls
+was well reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek.
+
+When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had ridden out
+early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was.  The outlaw
+knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was his anger
+against this man, that he ordered his band to mount, and spurring to their
+head, he marched through Middlesex, and crossing the Thames above London,
+entered Surrey late the same afternoon.
+
+As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between London and
+Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham, having
+sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of a royalist
+baron, whose husband was with Prince Edward's forces.
+
+The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady's household
+who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she had done him.
+When, therefore, he found that these grim men were searching for De Fulm,
+he saw a way to be revenged upon his mistress.
+
+"How many swords be there at the castle ?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham," replied the knave; "and,
+furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you, My Lord, so
+that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and the Earl be
+supping."
+
+"Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn.  "We
+shall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl of
+Buckingham."
+
+Half an hour's ride brought them within sight of the castle.  Dismounting,
+and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman of Torn advanced on
+foot with Shandy and the eight others, close in the wake of the traitorous
+servant.
+
+The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush, he
+had hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat and rested
+its farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above the ground.
+
+"Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy," said the outlaw, "till all be in,
+an' if there be any signs of treachery, stick him through the gizzard --
+death thus be slower and more painful."
+
+So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge, and
+disappeared within the window beyond.  One by one the band of cut-throats
+passed through the little window, until all stood within the castle beside
+their chief; Shandy coming last with the servant.
+
+"Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups," said Norman of
+Torn.  "You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my being
+interrupted."
+
+Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthily
+across the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left the little
+room, this figure pushed quietly through the window and followed the great
+outlaw down the unlighted corridor.
+
+A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon the grim
+figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the great dining
+hall.
+
+"My Lord Earl !" she cried.  "Look !  Behind you."
+
+And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him , he overturned the bench
+upon which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earl of
+Buckingham had a guilty conscience.
+
+The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword.
+
+"A moment, My Lord," said a low voice in perfect French.
+
+"Who are you ?" cried the lady.
+
+"I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little story.
+
+"In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of England
+held by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when she spurned
+his advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her fair face, and
+with his brute hands choked her.  And in that castle also was a despised
+and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neck the hempen
+noose has been yawning these many years.  And it was this vile person who
+came in time to save the young woman from the noble flower of knighthood
+that would have ruined her young life.
+
+"The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to the
+noble's rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lest he
+be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the hands of her
+tormentor.
+
+"But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl, he
+must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in full the
+toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and violence done her.
+
+"My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord the Earl
+of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the duty he has
+sworn to do.  En garde, My Lord !"
+
+The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he had
+been looking through a haze of blood for hours -- in fact every time he had
+thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de Tany and of
+the cruel blow that had fallen upon her face.
+
+He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a corner of the
+room, and when he had him there where he could escape in no direction, he
+drove his blade so deep through his putrid heart that the point buried
+itself an inch in the oak panel beyond.
+
+Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was witnessing,
+and, as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead body before him and
+wiped it on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascination while
+he drew his dagger and made a mark upon the forehead of the dead nobleman.
+
+"Outlaw or Devil," said a stern voice behind them, "Roger Leybourn owes you
+his friendship for saving the honor of his home."
+
+Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway where
+Norman of Torn had first appeared.
+
+"Roger !" shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned.
+
+"Who be you ?" continued the master of Leybourn addressing the outlaw.
+
+For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl of
+Buckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT.
+
+The Baron advanced with outstretched hand.
+
+"I owe you much.  You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast, and
+Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman of Torn."
+
+The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand.
+
+"You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper.  I
+have eaten but once in forty-eight hours."
+
+The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain on
+watch, but to interfere with no one within the castle.
+
+He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who had
+recovered from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor lay
+the body of De Fulm in a little pool of blood.
+
+Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, and had
+hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half an hour
+before the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity to enter
+unobserved by the servants.  It was he who had followed across the ladder
+after Shandy.
+
+The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for the first
+time within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at the house of
+a gentleman.
+
+The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to his camp
+started on his homeward march toward Torn.
+
+Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs of
+London, they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at a small
+party of gentlemen and gentlewomen.
+
+Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were waxing
+brave to lay violent hands upon the party.  Mud and rocks and rotten
+vegetables were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of them barely
+missing the women of the party.
+
+Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thick of
+it laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and his men,
+catching the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the whole pack of
+attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames.
+
+And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, he
+continued on his march toward the north.
+
+The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after the
+retreating figures of their deliverers.  Then one of the ladies turned to a
+knight at her side with a word of command and an imperious gesture toward
+the fast disappearing company.  He, thus addressed, put spurs to his horse,
+and rode at a rapid gallop after the outlaw's troop.  In a few moments he
+had overtaken them and reined up beside Norman of Torn.
+
+"Hold, Sir Knight," cried the gentleman, "the Queen would thank you in
+person for your brave defence of her."
+
+Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his horse
+and rode back with the Queen's messenger.
+
+As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel.
+
+"You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen's life
+that you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but driven a
+pack of curs from annoying a stray cat," said the Queen.
+
+"I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of a
+queen."
+
+"What now !  Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed ?  The
+King, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me your
+name."
+
+"If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang me,"
+laughed the outlaw.  "I be Norman of Torn."
+
+The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none of
+them had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry of
+England feared and hated.
+
+"For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the King has
+pardoned men before," replied Her Majesty.  "But raise your visor, I would
+look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be a gentleman
+and a loyal protector of his queen."
+
+"They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends," replied Norman
+of Torn quietly, "have never lived to tell what they saw beneath this
+visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year to fear it
+might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil of Torn lifted
+from his face." Without another word he wheeled and galloped back to his
+little army.
+
+"The puppy, the insolent puppy," cried Eleanor of England, in a rage.
+
+And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a period of
+twenty years.
+
+Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces of
+Torn from their Essex camp back to Derby.  The numerous raiding parties
+which had been constantly upon the road during the days they had spent in
+this rich district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts with rich and
+valuable booty and the men, for the time satiated with fighting and loot,
+turned their faces toward Torn with evident satisfaction.
+
+The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the old man
+of Torn.
+
+"Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrow morning.
+I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand, and, as I
+shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join you tomorrow."
+
+"Do not forget, My Lord," said Edwild the Serf, a great yellow-haired Saxon
+giant, "that there be a party of the King's troops camped close by the road
+which branches to Tany."
+
+"I shall give them plenty of room," replied Norman of Torn.  "My neck
+itcheth not to be stretched," and he laughed and mounted.
+
+Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo the
+Spaniard, sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest, mounted
+and spurred rapidly after him.  The camp, in the throes of packing
+refractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling their own wild
+mounts, did not notice his departure.  Only the little grim, gray, old man
+knew that he had gone, or why, or whither.
+
+That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richard de
+Tany and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming of the Lady
+Joan, a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of the King's
+soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany.
+
+The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred back in
+the direction from which he had come.
+
+And this was what he read:
+
+Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort.
+
+Instantly the call "to arms" and "mount" sounded through the camp and, in
+five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly toward the castle of
+Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a great reward and honor
+and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw who was now almost
+within his clutches.
+
+Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King's
+soldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Norman of Torn
+from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwest through
+Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby.
+
+All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited
+composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.
+
+Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of the period;
+a beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressed excitement which
+caused the blood to surge beneath the velvet of her cheek, and her breasts
+to rise and fall above her fast beating heart.
+
+She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and then
+they stood looking into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment.
+
+"I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell," he said sadly.
+"I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the temptation to be
+with you and those whom you typify must be my excuse.  I -- " He paused.
+It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn, but if she loved
+him, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade de
+Montfort ?
+
+"You need tell me nothing," interrupted Joan de Tany.  "I have guessed what
+you would tell me, Norman of Torn.  'The spell of moonlight and adventure
+is no longer upon us' -- those are your own words, and still I am glad to
+call you friend."
+
+The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality of her
+decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend to her.
+
+"It is best," he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt no love
+for him now that she knew him for what he really was.  "Nothing good could
+come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim more of you
+than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind and for my own,
+we will let it be as though you had never known me.  I thank you that you
+have not been angry with me.  Remember me only to think that in the hills
+of Derby, a sword is at your service, without reward and without price.
+Should you ever need it, Joan, tell me that you will send for me -- wilt
+promise me that, Joan ?"
+
+"I promise, Norman of Torn."
+
+"Farewell," he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his knee to
+the ground in reverence.  Then he rose to go, pressing a little packet into
+her palm.  Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief instant, deep in
+the azure depths of the girl's that which tumbled the structure of his
+new-found complacency about his ears.
+
+As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which led northwest
+toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for he realized two
+things.  One was that the girl he had left still loved him, and that some
+day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she had sent him away; and
+the other was that he did not love her, that his heart was locked in the
+fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and the aching
+sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl's life.  That
+he had been new to women and newer still to love did not permit him to
+excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his folly and stupidity, and
+what he thought was fickleness.
+
+But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to know
+without question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade de
+Montfort's lips would always be more to him than all the allurements
+possessed by the balance of the women of the world, no matter how charming,
+or how beautiful.
+
+Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that the
+attitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was but the
+attitude which the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good woman of her
+class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Montfort when she learned that
+Roger de Conde was Norman of Torn.
+
+The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere the
+girl, who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing with
+strangely drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw a body
+of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south.
+
+The King's banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de Tany
+knew for whom they sought at her father's castle.  Quickly she hastened to
+the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their hail rather than
+one of the men-at-arms on watch there.
+
+She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King's men
+drew rein before the castle.
+
+In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission.
+
+"We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this castle,"
+replied the officer.
+
+"There be no outlaw here," replied the girl, "but, if you wish, you may
+enter with half a dozen men and search the castle."
+
+This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman of Torn
+was not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certain that the
+Outlaw of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King's men; so she
+said:
+
+"There was one here just before you came who called himself though by
+another name than Norman of Torn.  Possibly it is he ye seek."
+
+"Which way rode he ?" cried the officer.
+
+"Straight toward the west by the middle road," lied Joan de Tany.  And, as
+the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back, galloped
+furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon a bench, pressing
+her little hands to her throbbing temples.
+
+Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, and within
+found two others.  In one of these was a beautiful jeweled locket, and on
+the outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the initials NT; in the
+other was a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, and about it was
+wound a strand of her own silken tresses.
+
+She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them against her
+lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her lithe young form
+racked with sobs.
+
+She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds of caste
+to a false ideal.  Birth and station spelled honor to her, and honor, to
+the daughter of an English noble, was a mightier force even than love.
+
+That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that he was,
+according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassable barrier
+between them.
+
+For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her raged the
+mighty battle of the heart against the head.
+
+Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her arms about
+the girl's neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause of her sorrow.
+Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowing heart; that
+wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not even a mother's love could
+check.
+
+"Joan, my dear daughter," cried Lady de Tany, "I sorrow with thee that thy
+love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore.  But it be better
+that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, take my word
+upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance must needs have
+brought upon thee and thy father's house would soon have cooled thy love;
+nor could his have survived the sneers and affronts even the menials would
+have put upon him."
+
+"Oh, mother, but I love him so," moaned the girl.  "I did not know how much
+until he had gone, and the King's officer had come to search for him, and
+then the thought that all the power of a great throne and the mightiest
+houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against him raised the
+hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my love surged through
+all my being.  Mother, thou canst not know the honor, and the bravery, and
+the chivalry of the man as I do.  Not since Arthur of Silures kept his
+round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so true a knight as Norman
+man of Torn.
+
+"Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed the honor
+of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignified respect
+in which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too, and felt that
+outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentleman than nine-tenths the
+nobles of England."
+
+"But his birth, my daughter !" argued the Lady de Tany.  "Some even say
+that the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck, and
+others that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor had he
+any mother."
+
+Ah, but this was the mighty argument !  Naught could the girl say to
+justify so heinous a crime as low birth.  What a man did in those rough
+cruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his mother or
+his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter howsoever wickedly
+attained, he might never overcome or live down.
+
+Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her own
+apartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild,
+impossible hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long,
+bitter night; until toward morning she solved the problem of her misery in
+the only way that seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding, little
+heart.  When the rising sun shone through the narrow window, it found Joan
+de Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden hilt of the toy that
+had hung at her girdle protruded from her breast, and a thin line of
+crimson ran across the snowy skin to a little pool upon the sheet beneath
+her.
+
+And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush another
+innocent victim.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could tell from
+outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad intelligence
+wrought on the master of Torn.
+
+All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders were
+issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south toward Essex
+without other halt than for necessary food and water for man and beast.
+
+When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father's castle to the
+church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final resting
+place in the castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silent knights, black
+draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind the bier.
+
+Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as silently,
+they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the following
+night.
+
+No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of
+sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn had
+come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and all but
+the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.
+
+As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young leader
+turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door of Father
+Claude's cottage.
+
+"I am tired, Father," said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his
+accustomed bench.  "Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps.  I
+and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth."
+
+"Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late.  Seek out a
+new and better life in another country and carve thy future into the
+semblance of glory and honor."
+
+"Would that I might, my friend," answered Norman of Torn.  "But hast thou
+thought on the consequences which surely would follow should I thus remove
+both heart and head from the thing that I have built ?
+
+"What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his great band
+of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England ?  Hast thought on't, Father ?
+
+"Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild the Serf
+were ranging unchecked through Derby ?  Edwild, whose father was torn limb
+from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to killing a buck in
+the new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of another man; Edwild,
+whose mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church.
+
+"And Horsan the Dane, Father.  How thinkest thou the safety of the roads
+would be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose upon
+ye ?
+
+"And Pensilo, the Spanish Don !  A great captain, but a man absolutely
+without bowels of compassion.  When first he joined us and saw our mark
+upon the foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he marked the
+living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron, branding a great P
+upon each cheek and burning out the right eye completely.  Wouldst like to
+feel, Father, that Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo ranged free through forest
+and hill of England ?
+
+"And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One Eye
+Kanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and the
+thousand others, each with a special hatred for some particular class or
+individual, and all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and loot.
+
+"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught to hate,
+I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turn loose upon
+her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or order or decency
+other than that which I enforce."
+
+As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many minutes.
+
+"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son," he said at last.  "Thou
+canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out of England,
+but even that may be possible; who knows other than God ?"
+
+"For my part" laughed the outlaw, "I be willing to leave it in His hands;
+which seems to be the way with Christians.  When one would shirk a
+responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon the Lord."
+
+"I fear, my son," said the priest, "that what seed of reverence I have
+attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit."
+
+"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord into
+partnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean and poor
+spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him.  I may be wrong, for
+I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception of God and
+scapegoat be not that they are synonymous."
+
+"Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends,"
+replied the priest, "and further, there be that nearer my heart just now
+which I would ask thee.  I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to.  The
+question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom thou call
+father ?"
+
+"I know of no treachery," replied the outlaw, "which he hath ever conceived
+against me.  Why ?"
+
+"I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meet me
+and two others here upon an important matter.  I have learned that he
+expects to be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week.  He
+is to notify me when he will come and I shall then send for thee and the
+old man of Torn; but it were as well, my son, that thou do not mention this
+matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou come hither to the meeting
+that De Montfort is to be present."
+
+"As you say, Father," replied Norman of Torn.  "I do not make head nor tail
+of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so is
+sufficient.  I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell."
+
+Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himself with
+occasional pillages against the royalists of the surrounding counties, and
+his patrols so covered the public highways that it became a matter of
+grievous import to the King's party, for no one was safe in the district
+who even so much as sympathized with the King's cause, and many were the
+dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil of Torn.
+
+Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it now
+seemed a matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grisly banner
+would be found on their side.
+
+The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent in
+rough, wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sit at
+table singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole in through
+the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo, tired of the
+din and racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawn sword and laid
+upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce the authority of his
+commands to disperse.
+
+Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, but when
+minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair, the
+Outlaw of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter's dull monotony
+to as late an hour as another; nor could any man of his great fierce horde
+outdrink their chief when he cared to indulge in the pleasures of the wine
+cup.  The only effect that liquor seemed to have upon him was to increase
+his desire to fight, so that he was wont to pick needless quarrels and to
+resort to his sword for the slightest, or for no provocation at all.  So,
+for this reason, he drank but seldom since he always regretted the things
+he did under the promptings of that other self which only could assert its
+ego when reason was threatened with submersion.
+
+Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from the
+wild, roving lives of its own members.  Tales of adventure, love, war and
+death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told, each,
+his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fighting enough by
+day to keep them good humored, the winter passed, and spring came with the
+ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with soft zephyrs, warm rain, and
+sunny skies.
+
+Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear from Simon
+de Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message which told the good
+priest that his letter had missed the great baron and had followed him
+around until he had but just received it.  The message closed with these
+words:
+
+"Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledge of
+the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give our best
+attention.  Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we shall visit
+thee, good father, on the fifth day from today."
+
+Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort's man leave the note with Father
+Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl on his table,
+so that when the good father left his cottage, it was the matter of but a
+moment's work for Spizo to transfer the message from its hiding place to
+the breast of his tunic.  The fellow could not read, but he to whom he took
+the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin in which it was penned.
+
+The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the full
+purport of this letter flashed upon him.  It had been years since he had
+heard aught of the search for the little lost prince of England, and now
+that the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now that more and
+more often opportunities were opening up to him to wreak the last shred of
+his terrible vengeance, the very thought of being thwarted at the final
+moment staggered his comprehension.
+
+"On the fifth day," he repeated.  "That is the day on which we were to ride
+south again.  Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall not talk
+with thee, thou fool priest."
+
+That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein before the
+walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:
+
+"A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace of
+God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman of
+Torn, Open, in the name of the King !"
+
+Norman of Torn directed that the King's messenger be admitted, and the
+knight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle.
+
+The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered.
+
+The bearing of the King's officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a man
+of birth when dealing with a low born knave.
+
+"His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah," he said, withdrawing a
+parchment from his breast.  "And, as you doubtless cannot read, I will read
+the King's commands to you."
+
+"I can read," replied Norman of Torn, "whatever the King can write.  Unless
+it be," he added, "that the King writes no better than he rules."
+
+The messenger scowled angrily, crying:
+
+"It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of our
+gracious King.  If he were less generous, he would have sent you a halter
+rather than this message which I bear."
+
+"A bridle for thy tongue, my friend," replied Norman of Torn, "were in
+better taste than a halter for my neck.  But come, let us see what the King
+writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn."
+
+Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:
+
+Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of
+Aquitaine; to Norman of Torn:
+
+Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing and plundering
+the persons and property of our faithful lieges ---
+
+We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God, do
+command that you cease these nefarious practices ---
+
+And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, Queen
+Eleanor, we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes ---
+
+Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the fighting
+men, your followers, prepared to protect the security of our person, and
+wage war upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert de Clare
+and their accomplices, who even now are collected to threaten and menace
+our person and kingdom ---
+
+Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your long unpunished
+crimes.  Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in the forty-eighth
+year of our reign.
+
+HENRY, REX.
+
+"The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded," said Norman of Torn, "for
+because of it shall the King's messenger eat the King's message, and thus
+take back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn." And crumpling the
+parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the royal emissary.
+
+The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was even quicker,
+so that it seemed that the King's messenger had deliberately hurled his
+weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him.
+
+And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful hand
+and, despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, bent him
+back upon the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with the point of
+his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King's message down the knight's
+throat; wax, parchment and all.
+
+It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn a
+half hour later and spurred rapidly - in his head a more civil tongue.
+
+When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea and
+reported the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearing by
+all the saints in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang for his
+effrontery before the snow flew again.
+
+News of the fighting between the barons and the King's forces at Rochester,
+Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a few days after
+the coming of the King's message, but at the same time came other news
+which hastened his departure toward the south.  This latter word was that
+Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied by Prince Philip, had
+landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come Peter of Colfax back
+to England -- the latter, doubtless reassured by the strong conviction,
+which held in the minds of all royalists at that time, of the certainty of
+victory for the royal arms in the impending conflict with the rebel barons.
+
+Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfort once
+again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity.  He knew
+what the result must be.  His experience with Joan de Tany had taught him
+that.  But the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated all his acts
+where the happiness or honor of women were concerned urged him to give
+himself over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman's pride, that it
+might be she who spurned and rejected; for, as it must appear now, it had
+been he whose love had grown cold.  It was a bitter thing to contemplate,
+for not alone would the mighty pride of the man be lacerated, but a great
+love.
+
+Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reported to
+the old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman of Torn
+to come with his father to the priest's cottage the morning of the march to
+meet Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what the nature of the
+thing was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw.
+
+This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more than aught
+he had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that the priest had
+not as yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south, a little,
+wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of Father Claude.  No man
+knows what words passed between the good priest and his visitor nor the
+details of what befell within the four walls of the little cottage that
+night; but some half hour only elapsed before the little, grim, gray man
+emerged from the darkened interior and hastened upward upon the rocky trail
+into the hills, a cold smile of satisfaction on his lips.
+
+The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparation early
+the following morning, for by eight o'clock the column was to march.  The
+courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys.  War horses were
+being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed to great posts, were
+being laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings of the men; while those
+already packed were wandering loose among the other animals and men.  There
+was squealing, biting, kicking, and cursing as animals fouled one another
+with their loads, or brushed against some tethered war horse.
+
+Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to don
+armor, lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, and
+rondel; buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg.  The open forges of
+armorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvil rose
+above the thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the shouting of
+commands, the rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stone flags, as
+these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing, through the eleventh hour
+repairs to armor, lance and sword, or to reset a shoe upon a refractory,
+plunging beast.
+
+Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some semblance
+of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam.  First the sumpter beasts, all
+loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs below the
+castle and there held to await the column.  Then, one by one, the companies
+were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon and waving banner to
+the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
+
+Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction which
+hurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls of
+beleaguered castles.
+
+And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and the
+little old man walked side by side from the castle building and mounted
+their chargers held by two squires in the center of the courtyard.
+
+Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as the
+two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of Torn,
+saying,
+
+"I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son.  Father Claude sent
+word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and that some
+appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred until later.  He
+said that you would understand." The old man eyed his companion narrowly
+through the eye slit in his helm.
+
+"'Tis passing strange," said Norman of Torn but that was his only comment.
+And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward the valley and
+as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of Torn saw that the
+door was closed and that there was no sign of life about the place.  A wave
+of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted aspect of the little
+flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a near future without the
+beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
+
+Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge of
+the valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the south by
+another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drew rein
+before the cottage of Father Claude.
+
+As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter the
+building.
+
+"Have a care, My Lord," cried his companion.  "This be over-close to the
+Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in the
+message which called thee thither."
+
+"Fear not," replied Simon de Montfort, "the Devil of Torn hath no quarrel
+with me." Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the door.
+Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim light of the
+interior.  There he found his host, the good father Claude, stretched upon
+his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes dark with dried and
+clotted blood.
+
+Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his companions.
+
+"The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden for
+a man to carry," he said.  "But this convinces me more than any words the
+priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, and
+possibly Prince Richard also."
+
+A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked
+thoroughly by the assassin.  The contents of drawer and box littered every
+room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced by many
+pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched.
+
+"The true object lies here," said De Montfort, pointing to the open hearth
+upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents.  "All
+written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here beneath the
+table ?" and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up a sheet of
+parchment on which a letter had been commenced.  It was addressed to him,
+and he read it aloud:
+
+Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our
+meeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either its
+contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
+
+He who bareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince Richard.
+Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as positive as
+I.
+
+Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know the
+wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call ---
+
+Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the assassin.
+
+"Mon Dieu !  The damnable luck !" cried De Montfort, "but a second more and
+the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.  Didst ever
+see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend incarnate since
+that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of Lady Maud by the
+postern gate beside the Thames ?  The Devil himself must watch o'er him.
+
+"There be naught more we can do here," he continued.  "I should have been
+on my way to Fletching hours since.  Come, my gentlemen, we will ride south
+by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to the decent
+burial of this holy man."
+
+The party mounted and rode rapidly away.  Noon found them at Leicester, and
+three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
+
+At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed the
+last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claude and
+consigned his clay to the churchyard.
+
+And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance which
+had been born in the King's armory twenty years before passed from the eyes
+of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly south on
+the road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparing for its
+advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son Prince Edward, and his
+brother, Prince Richard, King of the Romans, together with the latter's
+son, were entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand strong.
+
+Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons' army set out
+from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marching through
+dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city, unobserved.
+
+From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valley Combe,
+the projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march from the town.
+The King's party, however, had no suspicion that an attack was imminent
+and, in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial troops, had spent
+the preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they were quite taken by
+surprise.
+
+It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of the hill
+in advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army that the
+soldiers, growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post toward morning,
+and returned to town, leaving but a single man on watch.  He, left alone,
+had promptly fallen asleep, and thus De Montfort's men found and captured
+him within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes, where the King
+and his royal allies lay peacefully asleep, after their night of wine and
+dancing and song.
+
+Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial army would
+doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but it happened
+that, the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party to ride forth
+at daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were low.
+
+This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into the
+hands of the baronial troops.  Though some few were killed or captured,
+those who escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of the
+royalists to the close proximity and gravity of their danger.
+
+By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort's army were in full view of
+the town.  On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave; in the
+center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William de Monchensy, at the
+head of a large division which occupied that branch of the hill which
+descended a gentle, unbroken slope to the town.  The right wing was
+commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son of Simon de Montfort, and
+with him was the third son, Guy, as well as John de Burgh and Humphrey de
+Bohun.  The reserves were under Simon de Montfort himself.
+
+Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and his
+party, which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort; so
+that brother faced brother, and father fought against son, on that bloody
+Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes.
+
+Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and, as he
+issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners and pennons
+streaming in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing blade
+scintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and impressive
+spectacle as he hurled himself upon the Londoners, whom he had selected for
+attack because of the affront they had put upon his mother that day at
+London on the preceding July.
+
+So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotected
+burghers, unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before the iron
+men on their iron shod horses.  The long lances, the heavy maces, the
+six-bladed battle axes, and the well-tempered swords of the knights played
+havoc among them, so that the rout was complete; but, not content with
+victory, Prince Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he pursued the
+citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of them, while many more were
+drowned in attempting to escape across the Ouse.
+
+The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and his
+gallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined resistance at
+the hands of Henry de Montfort.
+
+The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, and thus
+the battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantage appearing
+to lie with the King's troops.  Had Edward not gone so far afield in
+pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might easily have been on the side of
+the royalists early in the day, but by thus eliminating his division after
+defeating a part of De Montfort's army, it was as though neither of these
+two forces had been engaged.
+
+The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centered the
+fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills.  He had caused his
+car to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many of his leaders,
+under a small guard, so that the banners there displayed, together with the
+car, led the King of the Romans to believe that the Earl himself lay there,
+for Simon de Montfort had but a month or so before suffered an injury to
+his hip when his horse fell with him, and the royalists were not aware that
+he had recovered sufficiently to again mount a horse.
+
+And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed back the
+men of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car came the
+royalists until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insults against
+the old Earl and commanding him to come forth.  And when they had killed
+the occupants of the car, they found that Simon de Montfort was not among
+them, but instead he had fastened there three important citizens of London,
+old men and influential, who had opposed him, and aided and abetted the
+King.
+
+So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, that he fell
+upon the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly but steadily beat
+them back from the town.
+
+This sight, together with the routing of the enemy's left wing by Prince
+Edward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two remaining
+divisions took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that, what a moment
+before had hung in the balance, now seemed an assured victory for King
+Henry.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the melee with all
+their reserves.  No longer was there semblance of organization.  Division
+was inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe formed a jumbled
+confusion of fighting, cursing chaos, over which whipped the angry pennons
+and banners of England's noblest houses.
+
+That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that the King's
+arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been had not a new
+element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow of the hill to
+the north of them appeared a great horde of armored knights, and as they
+came into position where they could view the battle, the leader raised his
+sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand broke into a mad charge.
+
+Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon this body
+of fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements.  Whom might they be ?
+To which side owned they allegiance ?  And, then, as the black falcon wing
+on the banners of the advancing horsemen became distinguishable, they saw
+that it was the Outlaw of Torn.
+
+Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, the wild
+battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned the hopes of
+the royalists cold within their breasts.
+
+"For De Montfort !  For De Montfort !" and "Down with Henry !" rang loud
+and clear above the din of battle.
+
+Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance that the
+King himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety of Lewes.
+
+The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it was that
+Norman of Torn found him barricaded.  When the door was broken down, the
+outlaw entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own hand to the feet
+of De Montfort, and would have put him to death had not the Earl
+intervened.
+
+"I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King," said Norman of
+Torn, "and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl, his
+life shall be yours to do with as you see fit."
+
+"You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn," replied De Montfort.
+"Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not mar the
+record of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity."
+
+"It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead," retorted
+the outlaw.
+
+And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple
+truth.
+
+"How comes it, Norman of Torn," asked De Montfort as they rode together
+toward Lewes, "that you threw the weight of your sword upon the side of the
+barons ?  Be it because you hate the King more ?"
+
+"I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl," replied the outlaw.  "I
+have been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should hate was
+never told me.  Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to my
+maturer years.
+
+"As for why I fought as I did today," he continued, "it be because the
+heart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side.  Had it been with
+the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise than he has this
+day.  So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude.  Tomorrow I may be
+pillaging your friends as of yore."
+
+Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of his lowered
+visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath.
+
+"You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn," said the Earl coldly,
+"and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot you.  An
+English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France, does not have
+much thought to waste upon highwaymen." His tone, as well as his words were
+studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung the pride of this
+haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted the friendship of his
+daughter.
+
+Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seen his
+face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred and
+resentment, the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines of pain
+and sorrow; for he read in the attitude of the father what he might expect
+to receive at the hands of the daughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fled
+precipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory, the
+city was turned over to looting and rapine.  In this, Norman of Torn and
+his men did not participate, but camped a little apart from the town until
+daybreak the following morning, when they started east, toward Dover.
+
+They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty miles
+out of their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold.  The troops
+stationed there had fled, having been appraised some few hours earlier, by
+fugitives, of the defeat of Henry's army at Lewes.
+
+Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, finding it
+entirely deserted, continued his eastward march.  Some few miles farther
+on, he overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and from them he
+easily, by dint of threats, elicited the information he desired: the
+direction taken by the refugees from the deserted castle, their number, and
+as close a description of the party as the soldiers could give.
+
+Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, this time heading
+northward into Kent.  It was dark before he reached his destination, and
+saw before him the familiar outlines of the castle of Roger de Leybourn.
+This time, the outlaw threw his fierce horde completely around the
+embattled pile before he advanced with a score of sturdy ruffians to
+reconnoiter.
+
+Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hope for
+stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the great
+building and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladder that
+Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudia unearth,
+that the outlaw might visit the Earl of Buckingham, unannounced.
+
+Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raise it to
+the sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood beside their
+chief within the walls of Leybourn.
+
+Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castle until
+a maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a sudden corner and
+bumped full into the Outlaw of Torn.  With a shriek that might have been
+heard at Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone floor and, turning,
+ran, still shrieking at the top of her lungs, straight for the great dining
+hall.
+
+So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had the
+guests arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of the
+girl than Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty drawn
+swords at his back.
+
+The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants and
+men-at-arms.  Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of the
+party saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a blow could
+be struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right hand, raised his
+left aloft in a gesture for silence.
+
+"Hold !" he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn, "I have no
+quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest within thy halls.
+Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as didst thy fair
+lady."
+
+"Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, and
+makes bold to insult my guests ?" demanded Roger de Leybourn.
+
+"Who be I !  If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yon
+grinning baboon," replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at one who
+had been seated close to De Leybourn.
+
+All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlaw
+indicated, and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man.  With livid
+face he stood, leaning for support against the table; his craven knees
+wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apart against
+his yellow teeth in a horrid grimace of awful fear.
+
+"If you recognize me not, Sir Roger," said Norman of Torn, drily, "it is
+evident that your honored guest hath a better memory."
+
+At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes never
+left the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed the
+master of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated falsetto:
+
+"Seize him !  Kill him !  Set your men upon him !  Do you wish to live
+another moment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, and
+there be a great price upon his head.
+
+"Oh, save me, save me !  for he has come to kill me," he ended in a pitiful
+wail.
+
+The Devil of Torn !  How that name froze the hearts of the assembled
+guests.
+
+The Devil of Torn !  Slowly the men standing there at the board of Sir
+Roger de Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name.
+
+Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of a sepulchre,
+and then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table.  She had seen
+the mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of her mate.
+
+And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:
+
+"Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls of
+Leybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great service for
+the house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest.  But a
+moment since, you said that you had no quarrel with me.  Then why be you
+here ?  Speak !  Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the master of
+Leybourn greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand or naked
+sword ?"
+
+"I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me.  And
+when I go, I take part of him with me.  I be in a great hurry, so I would
+prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, without
+interference; but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong within
+your walls, and nigh a thousand lie without.  What say you, My Lord ?"
+
+"Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that you
+search him out thus within a day's ride from the army of the King who has
+placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who be equally
+your enemies."
+
+"I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax," replied the outlaw.
+"What my grievance be matters not.  Norman of Torn acts first and explains
+afterward, if he cares to explain at all.  Come forth, Peter of Colfax, and
+for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may save your friends
+here from the fate that has found you at last after two years of patient
+waiting."
+
+Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to the
+center of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made; the
+men of the party forming a circle, in the center of which stood Peter of
+Colfax and Norman of Torn.
+
+"Give him a great draught of brandy," said the outlaw, "or he will sink
+down and choke in the froth of his own terror."
+
+When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter of Colfax
+regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his sword arm and
+defend himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and the primal
+instinct of self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a more and more
+creditable fight, until those who watched thought that he might indeed have
+a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn.  But they did not know that Norman
+of Torn was but playing with his victim, that he might make the torture
+long, drawn out, and wreak as terrible a punishment upon Peter of Colfax,
+before he killed him, as the Baron had visited upon Bertrade de Montfort
+because she would not yield to his base desires.
+
+The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of the
+fascinating drama that was being enacted before them.
+
+"God, what a swordsman !" muttered one.
+
+"Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword was drawn from
+the first scabbard !" replied Roger de Leybourn.  "Is it not marvellous !"
+
+Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces;
+little by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for loss of
+blood, the man was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touch his
+victim's face with his gleaming sword.  That he was saving for the
+fulfillment of his design.
+
+And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was no marrowless
+antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn.  Furiously he fought; in the
+extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with frenzied agony.
+Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow.
+
+And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like, in
+his victim's face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was a thin
+vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to ooze ere
+another swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow to parallel
+the first.
+
+Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax, until
+the watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the seal of death,
+in letters of blood -- NT.
+
+It was the end.  Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like the
+maniac he had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw of
+Torn was upon his brow.  Now, shrieking and gibbering through his frothy
+lips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed full upon
+Norman of Torn.  There was a flash of the great sword as the outlaw swung
+it to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that passed above the
+shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the grinning head rolled upon the floor,
+while the loathsome carcass, that had been a baron of England, sunk in a
+disheveled heap among the rushes of the great hall of the castle of
+Leybourn.
+
+A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests.  Some one broke into
+hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn, wiping his
+blade upon the rushes of the floor as he had done upon another occasion in
+that same hall, spoke quietly to the master of Leybourn.
+
+"I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord.  It shall be returned, or a
+mightier one in its stead."
+
+Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few words of
+instructions, to one of his men.
+
+The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it upon the
+golden platter.
+
+"I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality," said Norman of Torn, with a
+low bow which included the spellbound guests.  "Adieu." Thus followed by
+his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon the platter of gold,
+Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and from the castle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain of many
+days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into camp that night;
+nor did he again take up his march until the second morning, three days
+after the battle of Lewes.
+
+He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester's castle, where he had
+reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though it galled
+his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting his coming,
+he could not do less than that which he felt his honor demanded.
+
+Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the wiry,
+gray little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father.
+
+In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, had the old
+fellow changed in all these years.  Without bodily vices, and clinging ever
+to the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was still young in muscle
+and endurance.
+
+For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but he
+constantly practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so that it
+had become a subject often discussed among the men as to which of the two,
+father or son, was the greater swordsman.
+
+Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence.  Long since had
+Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character and masterful
+ways, the position of authority in the castle of Torn.  The old man simply
+rode and fought with the others when it pleased him; and he had come on
+this trip because he felt that there was that impending for which he had
+waited over twenty years.
+
+Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called "my
+son." If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one of pride
+which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil's mighty
+sword arm.
+
+The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guard
+halted a party bound south upon a crossroad.  There were some twenty or
+thirty men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights.
+
+As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of the
+party was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently a person
+of distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw.
+
+"Who are you," said the gentleman, in French, "that stops a prince of
+France upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal ?  Are you
+of the King's forces, or De Montfort's ?"
+
+"Be this Prince Philip of France ?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"Yes, but who be you ?"
+
+"And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort ?" continued the
+outlaw, ignoring the Prince's question.
+
+"Yes, an it be any of your affair," replied Philip curtly.
+
+"It be," said the Devil of Torn, "for I be a friend of My Lady Bertrade,
+and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands of roving
+soldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with so small
+an escort.  Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de Montfort ride
+with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur may arrive there
+safely."
+
+"It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget.  But,
+again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France ?"
+
+"Norman of Torn, they call me," replied the outlaw.
+
+"Indeed !" cried Philip.  "The great and bloody outlaw ?" Upon his handsome
+face there was no look of fear or repugnance.
+
+Norman of Torn laughed.
+
+"Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for
+himself," he said, "if he rides in such company ?"
+
+"My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than saint," said
+the Prince.  "They have told me of how you saved the daughter of De
+Montfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you, and
+to thank you.  It had been my intention to ride to Torn for that purpose so
+soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all our plans by his
+victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the Princess Eleanor, his wife,
+with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simon de Montfort and the
+King are to be today.  The Queen also is there with her retinue, so it be
+expected that, to show the good feeling and renewed friendship existing
+between De Montfort and his King, there will be gay scenes in the old
+fortress.  But," he added, after a pause, "dare the Outlaw of Torn ride
+within reach of the King who has placed a price upon his head ?"
+
+"The price has been there since I was eighteen," answered Norman of Torn,
+"and yet my head be where it has always been.  Can you blame me if I look
+with levity upon the King's price ?  It be not heavy enough to weigh me
+down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in all England.  I
+am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisoner today."
+
+Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torn grew
+to like this brave and handsome gentleman.  In his heart was no rancor
+because of the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved.
+
+If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Norman of
+Torn was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy.  It not
+only held her happiness above his own, but the happiness and welfare of the
+man she loved, as well.
+
+It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid the prince
+adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, he said:
+
+"May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade ?  It is in
+reference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, for the
+first time, be able to fulfill."
+
+"Certainly, my friend," replied Philip.  The outlaw, dismounting, called
+upon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch, wrote
+a message to Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missive to
+the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment.  Opening it,
+she read:
+
+To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn.
+
+Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn in
+friendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor.
+
+It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battel this
+night.
+
+Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I know
+that you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendship
+which he bears you.
+
+My camp lies without the city's gates, and your messenger will have safe
+conduct whatever reply he bears to,
+
+Norman of Torn.
+
+Fear ?  Fear Norman of Torn ?  The girl smiled as she thought of that
+moment of terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle of
+Peter of Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devil of
+Torn.  And then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful chivalry, nay,
+almost tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester.
+
+What a strange contradiction of a man !  She wondered if he would come with
+lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that lay behind
+the cold, steel mask.  She would ask him this night to let her see his
+face, or would that be cruel ?  For, did they not say that it was from the
+very ugliness of it that he kept his helm closed to hide the repulsive
+sight from the eyes of men !
+
+As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two years
+before, she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn.
+
+In the great hall that night as the King's party sat at supper, Philip of
+France, addressing Henry, said:
+
+"And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today, that
+I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway ?"
+
+"Some of our good friends from Kent ?" asked the King.
+
+"Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price, Norman
+of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteous and pleasant
+gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmed through your realm
+that I may add to my list of pleasant acquaintances."
+
+"The Devil of Torn ?" asked Henry, incredulously.  "Some one be hoaxing
+you."
+
+"Nay, Your Majesty, I think not," replied Philip, "for he was indeed a grim
+and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and awe-inspiring a pack
+as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong they rode.  They
+be camped not far without the city now."
+
+"My Lord," said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, "be it not time that
+England were rid of this devil's spawn and his hellish brood ?  Though I
+presume," he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, "that it may prove
+embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn upon his companion in
+arms."
+
+"I owe him nothing," returned the Earl haughtily, "by his own word."
+
+"You owe him victory at Lewes," snapped the King.  "It were indeed a sad
+commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing lieges who turned
+their arms against our royal person, 'to save him from the treachery of his
+false advisers,' that they called upon a cutthroat outlaw with a price upon
+his head to aid them in their 'righteous cause'."
+
+"My Lord King," cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, "I called not upon
+this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles of Lewes until
+I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day.  Neither did I
+know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fall upon baron or
+royalist."
+
+"If that be the truth, Leicester," said the King, with a note of skepticism
+which he made studiously apparent, "hang the dog.  He be just without the
+city even now."
+
+"You be King of England, My Lord Henry.  If you say that he shall be
+hanged, hanged he shall be," replied De Montfort.
+
+"A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains to
+catch him, Leicester," said the King.
+
+"A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work," replied De Montfort.
+
+"And not," thought Philip of France, "if I know it, shall the brave Outlaw
+of Torn be hanged tomorrow."
+
+In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and forth
+waiting an answer to his message.
+
+Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the outlaw
+knew full well that he had put his head within the lion's jaw when he had
+ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power.  He had no faith in the
+gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the King would urge
+when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers naked back to
+London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King's message, and who had
+turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was within reach of the army of De
+Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not relish
+pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand within a
+walled fortress.
+
+No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his rough
+band would be far on the road toward Torn.  The risk was great to enter the
+castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies.  But if he died there, it
+would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had set himself to do
+this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would were all the armies of
+the world camped within Battel.
+
+Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who presently
+appeared escorting a lackey.
+
+"A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort," said the soldier.
+
+"Bring him hither," commanded the outlaw.
+
+The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment sealed
+with scented wax wafers.
+
+"Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer ?" asked the outlaw.
+
+"I am to wait, My Lord," replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the service
+had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to bear a
+message to the Devil.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals, read
+the message from the woman he loved.  It was short and simple.
+
+To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Come with Giles.  He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where I
+be.
+
+Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the ground
+beside an object covered with a cloth.
+
+"Come, Flory," he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, "lead on."
+
+They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Torn and
+last the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the object covered
+with a cloth.  But it was not Flory who brought up the rear.  Flory lay
+dead in the shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thin wound below his
+left shoulder blade marked the spot where a keen dagger had found its way
+to his heart, and in his place walked the little grim, gray, old man,
+bearing the object covered with a cloth.  But none might know the
+difference, for the little man wore the armor of Flory, and his visor was
+drawn.
+
+And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall where the
+shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doubly black.
+Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up winding stairways
+until presently he stopped before a low door.
+
+"Here," he said, "My Lord," and turning left them.
+
+Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his right
+hand, and a low voice from within whispered, "Enter."
+
+Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off a large
+hall.  At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burning brightly,
+while a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about the austere
+chamber.  In the center of the room was a table, and at the sides several
+benches.
+
+Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone.
+
+"Place your burden upon this table, Flory," said Norman of Torn.  And when
+it had been done: "You may go.  Return to camp."
+
+He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed behind
+the little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory and then
+Norman of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left hand
+ungauntleted, resting upon the table's edge.
+
+"My Lady Bertrade," he said at last, "I have come to fulfill a promise."
+
+He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice.  Before, Norman
+of Torn had always spoken in English.  Where had she heard that voice !
+There were tones in it that haunted her.
+
+"What promise did Norman of Torn e'er make to Bertrade de Montfort ?" she
+asked.  "I do not understand you, my friend."
+
+"Look," he said.  And as she approached the table he withdrew the cloth
+which covered the object that the man had placed there.
+
+The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon a golden
+platter was a man's head; horrid with the grin of death baring yellow
+fangs.
+
+"Dost recognize the thing ?" asked the outlaw.  And then she did; but still
+she could not comprehend.  At last, slowly, there came back to her the
+idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of her enemy to
+the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish.
+
+But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that !  It was all a sore puzzle
+to her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim, visored figure of
+the Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside the grisly head of
+Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the great ring she had
+tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two years before.
+
+What strange freak was her brain playing her !  It could not be, no it was
+impossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there upon
+the platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters of
+dried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death - NT !
+
+Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw's hand, and then up to
+his visored helm.  A step she took toward him, one hand upon her breast,
+the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayed slightly as
+might one who has just arisen from a great illness.
+
+"Your visor," she whispered, "raise your visor." And then, as though to
+herself: "It cannot be; it cannot be."
+
+Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, and
+there before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde.
+
+"Mon Dieu !" she cried, "Tell me it is but a cruel joke."
+
+"It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade," said Norman of Torn sadly.  And,
+then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raised arms, he
+came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, said sadly:
+
+"And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France.  My heart
+went there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliation
+could come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love was returned;
+and so I waited until you might forget the words you had spoken to Roger de
+Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that you should know him in his
+true colors.
+
+"It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night.  God
+knows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your very
+attitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through your
+heart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind against me
+because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to the Devil
+of Torn.
+
+"I make no excuse for my weakness.  I ask no forgiveness for what I know
+you never can forgive.  That, when you think of me, it will always be with
+loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope.
+
+"I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, and
+with a love that surpasseth even my own understanding.
+
+"Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship.  Take it.  The hand
+that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given it as
+guide.
+
+"The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came from a
+heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continue to
+beat for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather in a
+wasted and useless life.
+
+"Farewell, Bertrade." Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to his
+lips.
+
+A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this proud
+daughter of the new conqueror of England.  The anger of an outraged
+confidence, gratitude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor,
+hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kinsmen, respect and honor
+for the marvellous courage of the man, loathing and contempt for the base
+born, the memory of that exalted moment when those handsome lips had clung
+to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a champion who dared come alone among
+twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a promise made her; but stronger
+than all the rest, two stood out before her mind's eye like living
+things -- the degradation of his low birth, and the memory of the great
+love she had cherished all these long and dreary months.
+
+And these two fought out their battle in the girl's breast.  In those few
+brief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade de
+Montfort that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached her
+final resolution she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman who, with
+the weight of a mature deliberation, had chosen the path which she would
+travel to the end -- to the final goal, however sweet or however bitter.
+
+Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet, and,
+taking the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised him to
+his feet.  In silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger, and
+then she lifted her eyes to his.
+
+"Keep the ring, Norman of Torn," she said.  "The friendship of Bertrade de
+Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away," she hesitated, "nor
+is her love."
+
+"What do you mean ?" he whispered.  For in her eyes was that wondrous light
+he had seen there on that other day in the far castle of Leicester.
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that, Roger de Conde or Norman of Torn, gentleman
+or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de Montfort -- it be thee I
+love; thee !"
+
+Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised, for
+he had expected the worst; but that she should love him !  Oh God, had his
+overwrought nerves turned his poor head ?  Was he dreaming this thing, only
+to awaken to the cold and awful truth !
+
+But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath that
+fanned his cheek; these were no dream !
+
+"Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade ?" he cried.  "Dost forget that
+I be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning even the
+identity of my father ?  Could a De Montfort face the world with such a man
+for husband ?"
+
+"I know what I say, perfectly," she answered.  "Were thou born out of
+wedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I love thee,
+and honor thee, and cleave to thee.  Where thou be, Norman of Torn, there
+shall be happiness for me.  Thy friends shall be my friends; thy joys shall
+be my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies, even mine own father,
+shall be my enemies.
+
+"Why it is, my Norman, I know not.  Only do I know that I didst often
+question my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, but
+thee -- oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, that this
+heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw of Torn ?"
+
+"I do not know," he said simply and gravely.  "So wonderful a thing be
+beyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, it is
+sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I were like
+to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness."
+
+"Sh !" she whispered, suddenly, "methinks I hear footsteps.  They must not
+find thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night wrung a
+promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee.  What
+shall we do, Norman ?  Where shall we meet again ?"
+
+"We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take thee to
+gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak.  Thou ridest north
+tonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shall make
+us one."
+
+"I am glad thee wish it," she replied.  "I feared that, for some reason,
+thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now.  Wait here, I will
+be gone but a moment.  If the footsteps I hear approach this door," and she
+indicated the door by which he had entered the little room, "thou canst
+step through this other doorway into the adjoining apartment, and conceal
+thyself there until the danger passes."
+
+Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself
+away from danger.
+
+"For my sake," she pleaded.  So he promised to do as she bid, and she ran
+swiftly from the room to fetch her belongings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a cloth
+upon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he did not
+return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered.
+
+Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left a
+trifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed between
+Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn.
+
+    As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love
+for the Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip.
+
+"It will be better than I had hoped," he muttered, and easier.  'S blood !
+How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole proud heart in
+the hanging of Norman of Torn.  Ah, what a sublime revenge !  I have waited
+long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow thou struck that day, but the
+return shall be an hundred-fold increased by long accumulated interest."
+
+Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and corridors,
+until he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and the King, with
+Philip of France and many others, gentlemen and nobles.
+
+Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the room
+and, addressing the King, cried:
+
+"Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King ?  He be now alone where a
+few men may seize him."
+
+"What now !  What now !" ejaculated Henry.  "What madman be this ?"
+
+"I be no madman, Your Majesty.  Never did brain work more clearly or to
+more certain ends," replied the man.
+
+"It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself," cried De
+Montfort.
+
+"Where be the knave ?" asked Henry.
+
+"He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughter of
+My Lord Earl of Leicester.  Even now she did but tell him that she loved
+him."
+
+"Hold," cried De Montfort.  "Hold fast thy foul tongue.  What meanest thou
+by uttering such lies, and to my very face ?"
+
+"They be no lies, Simon de Montfort.  An I tell thee that Roger de Conde
+and Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak no
+lie."
+
+De Montfort paled.
+
+"Where be the craven wretch ?" he demanded.
+
+"Come," said the little, old man.  And turning, he led from the hall,
+closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the others.
+
+"Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men -- thou'lt need them all to
+take Norman of Torn," he advised De Montfort.  And so as they passed the
+guard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms.
+
+Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard the
+tramping of many feet.  They seemed approaching up the dim corridor that
+led to the little door of the apartment where he stood.
+
+Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand upon the
+latch, waited.  Yes, they were coming that way, many of them and quickly
+and, as he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras and pushed
+open the door behind him; backing into the other apartment just as Simon de
+Montfort, Earl of Leicester, burst into the room from the opposite side.
+
+At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and, turning,
+he faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queen of England and
+another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with their ladies.
+
+There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even had
+there been where to run.  Slowly, he backed away from the door toward a
+corner where, with his back against a wall and a table at his right, he
+might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that he could
+hope for no quarter from the men who had him cornered there like a great
+bear in a trap.
+
+With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man, even
+though that man were the Devil of Torn.
+
+The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and were
+within the room where the outlaw stood at bay.
+
+At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddled together,
+while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemen and as many
+men-at-arms.
+
+"What dost thou here, Norman of Torn ?" cried De Montfort, angrily.  "Where
+be my daughter, Bertrade ?"
+
+"I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs," replied Norman of
+Torn, "which be the affair of no other man.  As to your daughter: I know
+nothing of her whereabouts.  What should she have to do with the Devil of
+Torn, My Lord ?"
+
+De Montfort turned toward the little gray man.
+
+"He lies," shouted he.  "Her kisses be yet wet upon his lips."
+
+Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was now
+partly raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty years, he
+had called father.
+
+He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery and harm
+from him ?  No, he could not believe it.  One of them must have gone mad.
+But why Flory's armor and where was the faithful Flory ?
+
+"Father !" he ejaculated, "leadest thou the hated English King against
+thine own son ?"
+
+"Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn," retorted the old man.  "Thy days
+of usefulness to me be past.  Tonight thou serve me best swinging from a
+wooden gibbet.  Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a good strong
+gibbet in the courtyard below."
+
+"Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn ?" cried De Montfort.
+
+"Yes," was the reply, "when this floor be ankle deep in English blood and
+my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender."
+
+"Come, come," cried the King.  "Let your men take the dog, De Montfort !"
+
+"Have at him, then," ordered the Earl, turning toward the waiting
+men-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon the doomed
+outlaw.
+
+But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushed
+forward in a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared against one.
+
+There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn.  It was grim battle and his
+only hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before he
+himself went down.
+
+And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and as quickly
+as he might.  And to those who watched, it was as though the young officer
+of the Guard had not come within reach of that terrible blade ere he lay
+dead upon the floor, and then the point of death passed into the lungs of
+one of the men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere it pierced the heart of a
+third.
+
+The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of that
+mighty arm.  Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack, a
+girlish figure.  clothed in a long riding cloak.  burst through the little
+knot of men as they stood facing their lone antagonist.
+
+With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfort threw
+herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonished company of
+king, prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her full height, and
+with all the pride of race and blood that was her right of heritage from a
+French king on her father's side and an English king on her mother's, she
+flashed her defiance and contempt in the single word:
+
+"Cowards !"
+
+"What means this, girl ?" demanded De Montfort, "Art gone stark mad ?  Know
+thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn ?"
+
+"If I had not before known it, My Lord," she replied haughtily, "it would
+be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack a lone man.
+What other man in all England could stand thus against forty ?  A lion at
+bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet."
+
+"Enough, girl," cried the King, "what be this knave to thee ?"
+
+"He loves me, Your Majesty," she replied proudly, "and I, him."
+
+"Thou lov'st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade," cried Henry.  "Thou, a De
+Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen this murderer's accursed
+mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunt his defiance
+in the King's, thy uncle's, face, and bend his whole life to preying upon
+thy people; thou lov'st this monster ?"
+
+"I love him, My Lord King."
+
+"Thou lov'st him, Bertrade ?" asked Philip of France in a low tone,
+pressing nearer to the girl.
+
+"Yes, Philip," she said, a little note of sadness and finality in her
+voice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely.
+
+Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, and
+facing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman of Torn.
+
+"That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen," he said.  "Who
+takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of France as
+well."
+
+Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other's shoulder.
+
+"No, thou must not do this thing, my friend," he said.  "It be my fight and
+I will fight it alone.  Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee, out of
+harm's way."
+
+As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together, and, at
+a word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the attack again.
+It was a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two could not fight
+with the girl between them and their adversaries.  And thus, by weight of
+numbers, they took Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince away from Norman of
+Torn without a blow being struck, and then the little, grim, gray, old man
+stepped forward.
+
+"There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can,
+alone, take Norman of Torn," he said, addressing the King, "and that sword
+be mine.  Keep thy cattle back, out of my way." And, without waiting for a
+reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom for twenty years he
+had called son.
+
+Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, and
+there, in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of Battel,
+was fought such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor is it
+credible that its like was ever fought before or since.
+
+The world's two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil -- the one with the
+strength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray fox,
+and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of blood and
+hate before them -- thrust and parried and cut until those that gazed
+awestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in the tensity
+of their wonder.
+
+Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come to kill
+pressed back to make room for the contestants.  Now was the young man
+forcing his older foeman more and more upon the defensive.  Slowly, but as
+sure as death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory.  The old
+man saw it too.  He had devoted years of his life to training that mighty
+sword arm that it might deal out death to others, and now -- ah !  The grim
+justice of the retribution he, at last, was to fall before its diabolical
+cunning.
+
+He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wily
+Frenchman saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt its
+cold breath condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and so he
+cast about for any means whereby he might escape the result of his rash
+venture.
+
+Presently he saw his opportunity.  Norman of Torn stood beside the body of
+one of his earlier antagonists.  Slowly the old man worked around until the
+body lay directly behind the outlaw, and then with a final rally and one
+great last burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushed Norman of Torn back
+for a bare step -- it was enough.  The outlaw's foot struck the prostrate
+corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant his sword arm rose, ever so
+little, as he strove to retain his equilibrium; but that little was
+enough.  It was what the gray old snake had expected, and he was ready.
+Like lightning, his sword shot through the opening, and, for the first time
+in his life of continual combat and death, Norman of Torn felt cold steel
+tear his flesh.  But ere he fell, his sword responded to the last fierce
+command of that iron will, and as his body sank limply to the floor,
+rolling with outstretched arms, upon its back, the little, grim, gray man
+went down also, clutching frantically at a gleaming blade buried in his
+chest.
+
+For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and then Bertrade
+de Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of her father,
+rushed to the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved.  Kneeling
+there beside him she called his name aloud, as she unlaced his helm.
+Tearing the steel headgear from him, she caressed his face, kissing the
+white forehead and the still lips.
+
+"Oh God !  Oh God !" she murmured.  "Why hast thou taken him ?  Outlaw
+though he was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of true
+manhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England.
+
+"I do not wonder that he preyed upon you," she cried, turning upon the
+knights behind her.  "His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyal to
+his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all; and ever
+be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink deeper into the
+mud.  Mon Dieu !  How I hate you," she finished.  And as she spoke the
+words, Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of her father.
+
+The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad, kindly
+man, and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of anger.
+
+"Come, child," said the King, "thou art distraught; thou sayest what thou
+mean not.  The world is better that this man be dead.  He was an enemy of
+organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows.  Life in England will
+be safer after this day.  Do not weep over the clay of a nameless
+adventurer who knew not his own father."
+
+Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting posture.
+He was not dead.  Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his frame was
+racked with suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils.
+
+At last they saw that he was trying to speak.  Weakly he motioned toward
+the King.  Henry came toward him.
+
+"Thou hast won thy sovereign's gratitude, my man," said the King, kindly.
+"What be thy name ?"
+
+The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on another paroxysm
+of coughing.  At last he managed to whisper.
+
+"Look -- at -- me.  Dost thou -- not -- remember me ?  The --- foils --
+the -- blow -- twenty-long-years.  Thou -- spat -- upon --- me."
+
+Henry knelt and peered into the dying face.
+
+"De Vac !" he exclaimed.
+
+The old man nodded.  Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn.
+
+"Outlaw -- highwayman -- scourge -- of -- England.  Look --- upon -- his --
+face.  Open -- his tunic -- left -- breast."
+
+He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a final
+effort: "De -- Vac's -- revenge.  God -- damn -- the --- English," and
+slipped forward upon the rushes, dead.
+
+The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen.  They stood looking into
+each other's eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed an eternity,
+before any dared to move; and then, as though they feared what they should
+see, they bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for the first time.
+
+The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up to
+hers.
+
+"Edward !" she whispered.
+
+"Not Edward, Madame," said De Montfort, "but -- "
+
+The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay the
+unconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort.  Gently, he lifted her to the
+waiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands,
+tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide the
+tunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn.
+
+"Oh God !" he cried, and buried his head in his arms.
+
+The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the body of
+her second born, crying out:
+
+"Oh Richard, my boy, my boy !" And as she bent still lower to kiss the lily
+mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know for over
+twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed her ear to his
+breast.
+
+"He lives !" she almost shrieked.  "Quick, Henry, our son lives !"
+
+Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip of
+France had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning on his
+arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene being enacted
+at her feet.
+
+Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness.
+Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor, knelt
+Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing his hands.
+
+A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought the
+Outlaw of Torn.
+
+He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, resting
+against one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see whom it
+might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, upon whose
+breast his head rested.
+
+Strange vagaries of a disordered brain !  Yes it must have been a very
+terrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but why could
+he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him ?  And then his eyes
+wandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standing
+uncovered and with bowed heads about him.  Presently he found her.
+
+"Bertrade !" he whispered.
+
+The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen.
+
+"Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream."
+
+"I be very real, dear heart," she answered, "and these others be real,
+also.  When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thing that
+has happened.  These who wert thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thy best
+friends now -- that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peace until
+thou be better."
+
+He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faint sigh.
+
+They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen's, and all that night
+the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing his
+fevered forehead.  The King's chirurgeon was there also, while the King and
+De Montfort paced the corridor without.
+
+And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses, or
+in the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is found again be
+always the best beloved.
+
+Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep; the
+fever and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health and iron
+constitution.  The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de Montfort.
+
+"You had best retire, ladies," he said, "and rest.  The Prince will live."
+
+Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands on
+the part of the King's chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
+
+"I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince," urged the chirurgeon.
+
+"Why call thou me prince ?" asked Norman of Torn.
+
+"There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee," replied
+the chirurgeon, "and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt, thou mayst
+see her, My Lord."
+
+The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to a
+sentry who stood just without.  The sentry transmitted the message to a
+young squire who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown open
+again from without, and a voice announced:
+
+"Her Majesty, the Queen !"
+
+Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came back to
+him the scene in the Queen's apartment the night before.  It was all a sore
+perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he attempt to.
+
+And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward him
+across the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant
+with happiness and love.
+
+"Richard, my son !" exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his face in
+her hands and kissing him.
+
+"Madame !" exclaimed the surprised man.  "Be all the world gone crazy ?"
+
+And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince of
+England.
+
+When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his and
+raising it to his lips.
+
+"I did not know, Madame," he said, "or never would my sword have been bared
+in other service than thine.  If thou canst forgive me, Madame, never can I
+forgive myself."
+
+"Take it not so hard, my son," said Eleanor of England.  "It be no fault of
+thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and rejoicing should
+we feel, now that thou be found again."
+
+"Forgiveness !" said a man's voice behind them.  "Forsooth, it be we that
+should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son with swords and halters.
+
+"Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who sent
+the King's army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King's message
+down his messenger's throat.
+
+"By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King's son, an' though we
+made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee now."
+
+The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the King
+standing behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and
+greeted his father.
+
+"They be sorry jokes, Sire," he said.  "Methinks it had been better had
+Richard remained lost.  It will do the honor of the Plantagenets but little
+good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood."
+
+But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King of England
+to wipe the great name from the pages of history -- perhaps a jealous king.
+
+Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of the
+chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he had done
+so they left him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the door
+closed behind them than he arose and left the apartment by another exit.
+
+It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom he was
+searching.  She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression half sad
+upon her beautiful face.  She did not see him as he approached, and he
+stood there for several moments watching her dear profile, and the rising
+and falling of her bosom over that true and loyal heart that had beaten so
+proudly against all the power of a mighty throne for the despised Outlaw of
+Torn.
+
+He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense which
+warns us that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our ears hear,
+caused her to turn.
+
+With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner of
+the court, said:
+
+"What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor subject ?" And
+then, more gravely, "My Lord, I have been raised at court, and I understand
+that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget what passed between
+Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn."
+
+"Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal precedents," he
+replied, "for he will wed not rashly, but most wisely, since he will wed
+none but Bertrade de Montfort." And he who had been the Outlaw of Torn took
+the fair young girl in his arms, adding: "If she still loves me, now that I
+be a prince ?"
+
+She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers.
+
+"It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince I love
+now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman -- it be thee I love,
+dear heart -- just thee."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Outlaw of Torn by Burroughs
+
+
+
+
+
+I have made the following changes to the text:
+PAGE  LINE  ORIGINAL     CHANGED TO
+  17    17  merks   marks
+  554   ertswhile    erstwhile
+  591   so so   do so
+  90    26  beats   beasts
+  934   presntly     presently
+ 124    20  rescurer     rescuer
+ 171    27  walls." walls.
+ 1843   gnetlemen    gentlemen
+ 185    20  fored,  formed,
+ 1866   to forces    the forces
+ 195    19  those father whose father
+ 2172   precipitably precipitately
+ 2175   litle   little
+ 221    30  Monfort Montfort
+ 230    30  Montforth    Montfort
+ 245    15  muderer's    murderer's
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The only changes that have been made to this text by Publisher's Choice
+Books and its General Manager/Editor have been the removal of all
+word-breaking hyphenation, and the occasional addition of a comma to
+separate certain phrases.  These changes were effected merely to increase
+the Reader's reading ease and enjoyment of the text.
+
+The following spelling changes were effected within the text for reasons of
+clarity:
+
+"chid"  to  "chide"
+"sword play" to "swordplay"
+"subtile" to "subtle"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:14:51 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:14:51 -0700
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