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diff --git a/369-h/369-h.htm b/369-h/369-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..733e4d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/369-h/369-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10627 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<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’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—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. +</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—the visored +horseman who—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’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. +</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> +“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.” +</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’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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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. +</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’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—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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’s bones De Vac’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—the king’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—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’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. +</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’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’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, “Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. I would +play at toss.” +</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’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’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’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’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’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’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’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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than the +sword, I should think,” 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> +“Your Highness,” said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, +“let old DeVac help you catch the pretty insect.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go thyself and fetch it,” replied the Prince; “the King, my +father, has forbid me stepping without the palace grounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” commanded De Vac, more sternly, “no harm can come to +you.” +</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> +“Unhand me, sirrah,” screamed the boy. “How dare you lay +hands on a prince of England?” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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> +“Mon Dieu, Sir Jules,” she cried, “hast thou gone mad?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Oh, My Lord! My Lord!” she cried, “Richard, our son, has +been assassinated and thrown into the Thames.” +</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—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’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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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—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. +</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’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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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> +“Hark! What was that, My Lord?” 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> +“What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the name of +the King!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</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’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> +“Whither, old hag?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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. +</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’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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Still the old woman hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I—” +expostulated the child. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hate the King,” replied the little boy. “For this reason I +shall do as thou sayest.” +</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’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> +“Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son,” said the little +old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Be no one happy in all the world?” he once broke out to the old +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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—she had become a straight, wiry, active old man. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</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—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> +“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.” +</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—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’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—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’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. +</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> +“It’s death!” exclaimed one of the knights, “he will +kill the youth yet, Beauchamp.” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” cried he addressed. “Look! He is up again and the boy +still clings as tightly to him as his own black hide.” +</p> + +<p> +“’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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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—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. +</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> +“Well done!” cried one of the knights. “Simon de Montfort +himself never mastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?” +</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—the handsome boy +and the beautiful black—gazing with startled eyes, like two wild things, +at the strange intruder who confronted them. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The three knights listened but there was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Sir Knights,” spoke Paul of Merely, “we will ride +within and learn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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!’” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’s wing, +completed his picturesque and becoming costume. +</p> + +<p> +“Your son?” he asked, turning to the old man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the growling response. +</p> + +<p> +“He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed French +accent. +</p> + +<p> +“’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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed a +marvel,” 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> +“And how old might you be, my son?” he asked the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know.” +</p> + +<p> +“And your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son and +no other ever before addressed me.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you Englishmen?” asked the boy without making a move to comply +with their demand. +</p> + +<p> +“That we be, my son,” said Beauchamp. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finally burst +into uproarious laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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.” +</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’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 “Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have no quarrel. Sheathe +your swords.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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—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> +“To the death,” cried the little gray man, “Ã 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. +</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’s “Ã 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. +</p> + +<p> +As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old man led +Greystoke to where the boy awaited him. +</p> + +<p> +“They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure of +revenge; Ã mort, mon fils.” +</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’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> +“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> +“But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman is +the sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit.” +</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> +“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’?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“By the ear of Gabriel,” cried the good father, “a child in +armor!” +</p> + +<p> +“A child in years, mayhap,” replied the boy, “but a good +child to own as a friend, if one has enemies who wear swords.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Then rising he addressed the ruffians. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“Come back to the good priest’s hut, and we shall see what he may +say,” 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’s eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his four +comrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room. +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory, One +Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!” he ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +“Man or devil! By the Pope’s hind leg, who and what be ye?” +he said, turning to Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what be the duties?” said he whom they called Peter the +Hermit. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Aye, aye!” they cried. “We be your men, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’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’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> +“What ho, without there!” challenged the old man entering grimly +into the spirit of the play. +</p> + +<p> +“’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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What means this, my son?” said the old man as Norman of Torn +dismounted within the ballium. +</p> + +<p> +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.” +</p> + +<p> +“’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> +“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> +“All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shall never +dry upon your blade.” +</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> +“By the Pope’s hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English. +There should be great riding after such as he.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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> +“’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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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’s gold in their pockets. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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> +“What ails you, my son?” asked the priest, “that you look so +disconsolate on this beautiful day?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know why I should keep my visor down?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you +resemble.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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, “Mon Dieu, Edward!” +</p> + +<p> +“Draw and defend yourself,” cried Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Your Highness,” stammered the knight. +</p> + +<p> +“Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English +pigs,” 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’s armor. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, Sir Knight!” cried the girl. “Mount and flee; yonder +come his fellows.” +</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> +“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.” +</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—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’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. +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“One would think they had met the devil,” muttered Norman of Torn, +looking after them in unfeigned astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“What means it, lady?” he asked turning to the damsel, who had made +no move to escape. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“An’ who else should you be taken for, my Lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not the Prince,” said Norman of Torn. “It is said that +Edward is in France.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be you De Montfort’s daughter, niece of King Henry?” queried +Norman of Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening. +</p> + +<p> +“That I be,” replied the girl, “an’ from your face I +take it you have little love for a De Montfort,” she added, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father’s knights, +to visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Ride on,” he called to Bertrade de Montfort, “I will join +you in an instant.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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> +“You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“I am from Normandy,” he went on quietly. “A gentleman of +France.” +</p> + +<p> +“But your name?” she said peremptorily. “Are you ashamed of +your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may call me Roger,” he answered. “Roger de Conde.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade +de Montfort,” 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’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his +princess the head of her enemy?” he asked lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“What boon would the knight ask?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell her +that this was more than play. +</p> + +<p> +“It shall be as you say, Sir Knight,” she replied. “And the +boon once granted shall be always kept.” +</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’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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“A fearful apparition,” murmured Norman of Torn. “No wonder +he keeps his helm closed.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company he most +enjoyed the joke. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?’” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde,” +replied the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Remember that promise,” he said smiling. “Some day you may +be glad to repudiate it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’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’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’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—fat people do not +“dismount”—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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out in +the direction of your cottage,” he concluded. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here,” said the +priest quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why say you that?” snapped the little old man, eyeing Father +Claude narrowly. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand,” 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> +“Greetings, my son,” said the priest. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</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> +“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.” +</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’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’s waists, pouring the last confidences into each +other’s ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return to Leicester. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount to her +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Thou be a fool, Mary,” 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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father’s +castle?” asked Peter of Colfax. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +This last threat decided the Baron. +</p> + +<p> +“It is agreed,” he said. “The men shall ride out with you in +half an hour. Wait below in the courtyard.” +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?” +</p> + +<p> +“At once. You may go.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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. +</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’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> +“Come,” said the man called Guy, “if there be life left in +her, we must hasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct.” +</p> + +<p> +“I leave ye here,” said the little old man. “My part of the +business is done.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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. +</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’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’s point. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’s voice at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Within there, Coll! Has the damsel awakened from her swoon?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sir Peter,” replied the old woman. “I was but just +urging her to arise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her +below.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</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’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. +</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> +“What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery +against thy neighbor’s daughter and thy sovereign’s niece?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into a +sneering smile. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’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> +“Back!” cried the girl. “Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt +feel the length of thine own blade.” +</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> +“What’s wrong within, Coll,” cried the Baron. +</p> + +<p> +“The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me,” +shrieked the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’s castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be fooled by his +lying tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“Then will I starve you out,” he cried at length. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</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’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> +“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.” +</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> +“Quick, My Lord!” she shrieked, “the bolts, quick.” +</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’s fingers, and at the +Baron’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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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> +“Admit them, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn, “I will speak +with them here.” +</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> +“Be ye Norman of Torn?” he asked. And, did he try to conceal the +hatred and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful. +</p> + +<p> +“They call me so,” replied the visored knight. “And what may +bring a De Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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’ head armor showed the rich loot +which had fallen to the portion of Norman of Torn’s wild raiders. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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> +“Draw!” commanded a low voice in English, “unless you prefer +to pray, for you are about to die.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“Ware! Sir Knight,” 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’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’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. +</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’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> +“Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?” asked a grave English +voice out of the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite, Sir Knight,” she replied, “and you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“How know you my name?” she asked. “Who may you be? I do not +recognize your armor, and your breastplate bears no arms.” +</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> +“My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn,” said the visored knight +with quiet dignity. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Norman of Torn!” she whispered. “May God have mercy on my +soul!” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord,” 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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“He will return,” was the outlaw’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’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> +“Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort—thinks +he that I keep a robbers’ roost!” cried the fierce old warrior. +</p> + +<p> +“Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England,” boasted +the red giant. “Will you see him in peace, My Lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him enter,” said De Montfort, “but no knavery, now, we +are a thousand men here, well armed and ready fighters.” +</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’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’s cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent. +</p> + +<p> +“What means this,” cried De Montfort, “has the rascal offered +you harm or indignity?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee raised +them to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lord Prince,” he cried. “What do ye here, and +alone?” +</p> + +<p> +The young man smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade,” said Roger de Conde. +“Peter of Colfax will return.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl glanced at him quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which would it please ye most that I be?” he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither,” she answered, “I be satisfied with my friend, +Roger de Conde.” +</p> + +<p> +“So ye like not the Devil of Torn?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“He has my friendship, always,” said the girl, “but I doubt +me if Norman of Torn be the man to impose upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The man laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strong white +hands upon his shoulders, she whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it is +not, Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a craven +poltroon; but, God, how I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But,” said the girl, “I do love—” +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said: +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed to control +himself to say, +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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 “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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If that be the case,” said Norman of Torn, “we shall have +war and fighting in real earnest ere many months.” +</p> + +<p> +“And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?” +asked Father Claude. +</p> + +<p> +“Under the black falcon’s wing,” laughed he of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“What be that, my son?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yea, even with my life and honor, my father,” replied the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ride +south.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’s words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled in +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“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: +</p> + +<p> +“What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently,” replied the +Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +The old man eyed him closely. +</p> + +<p> +“An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, +remember.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord.” +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of Father +Claude and entered. +</p> + +<p> +“I am honored,” said the priest, rising. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men,” 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> +“Who be ye?” said the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany,” said Norman of Torn. +“Ride on.” +</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’s friend +to the hospitality of her father’s castle. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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—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—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—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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The daughter of De Tany flushed. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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’s +party, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city of London +was beset with many dangers. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But then, as I have no army,” retorted the laughing girl, +“if you reason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe.” +</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’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’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> +“The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn,” 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> +“Who be ye?” +</p> + +<p> +“A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London,” replied +Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“I asked not your mission,” cried the fellow. “I asked, who +be ye? Answer, and be quick about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’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’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’s intuition read the death +warrant of the King’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’s corpse rolled from +the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his little party. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’s men were down, when one, an old servitor, +spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my ladies,” he cried, “quick and you may escape. They +be so busy with the battle that they will never notice.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, My Lady—” cried John. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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’s favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort and the +barons. +</p> + +<p> +“What now?” he cried. “What goes on here?” +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied: +</p> + +<p> +“A party of the King’s enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we +routed them, taking these two prisoners.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look for yourself, My Lord Earl,” replied the girl removing the +helm, which she had been unlacing from the fallen man. +</p> + +<p> +“Edward?” he ejaculated. “But no, it cannot be, I did but +yesterday leave Edward in Dover.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl’s head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you refuse to release us?” said Joan de Tany. +</p> + +<p> +“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—” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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’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—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’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—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—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> +“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?” +</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’s sword, and the men-at-arms were nothing +loath to emulate their master’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’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> +“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. +</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> +“What is wrong?” asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasing +perturbation. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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 “stupid,” seized De Conde +and rushed him to the far side of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“The devil take them,” cried De Fulm. “Where can they have +gone? Surely we were right behind them.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her hand still in +his. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” she answered, “until I quiet my nerves a little. I am +all unstrung.” 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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not say that,” she commanded. “Never was such bravery or +such swordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man.” +</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—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. +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“We must go carefully now,” she said at last, “for there be +stairs near.” +</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> +“Joan de Tany,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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—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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Not such a fearsome place after all,” he said, laughing lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“I fear I am not strong enough,” she said finally. “The way +is much more difficult than I had thought.” +</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—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> +“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.” +</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—it was Shandy. +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“And here we be, My Lord,” concluded the great fellow. +</p> + +<p> +“How many are you?” asked the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, My Lord.” +</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’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> +“Open! Open for My Lady Joan.” +</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> +“Come, come,” said the Baron, “let us go within. You must be +fair famished for good food and drink.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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’s forces. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“How many swords be there at the castle?” asked Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“My Lord Earl!” she cried. “Look! Behind you.” +</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> +“A moment, My Lord,” said a low voice in perfect French. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” cried the lady. +</p> + +<p> +“I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a little story. +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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!” +</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—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> +“Outlaw or Devil,” said a stern voice behind them, “Roger +Leybourn owes you his friendship for saving the honor of his home.” +</p> + +<p> +Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway where Norman +of Torn had first appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Roger!” shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned. +</p> + +<p> +“Who be you?” 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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper. I +have eaten but once in forty-eight hours.” +</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’s troop. In a few moments he had overtaken +them and reined up beside Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold, Sir Knight,” cried the gentleman, “the Queen would +thank you in person for your brave defence of her.” +</p> + +<p> +Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled his horse and +rode back with the Queen’s messenger. +</p> + +<p> +As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of a +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang +me,” laughed the outlaw. “I be Norman of Torn.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“The puppy, the insolent puppy,” 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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall give them plenty of room,” replied Norman of Torn. +“My neck itcheth not to be stretched,” 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’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 “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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’s eyes in silence for a long moment. +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I promise, Norman of Torn.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’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’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. +</p> + +<p> +She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King’s +men drew rein before the castle. +</p> + +<p> +In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission. +</p> + +<p> +“We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this +castle,” replied the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“There be no outlaw here,” replied the girl, “but, if you +wish, you may enter with half a dozen men and search the castle.” +</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’s men; so she said: +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which way rode he?” cried the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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. +</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’s cottage. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“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? +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for many minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear, my son,” said the priest, “that what seed of +reverence I have attempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor +fruit.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know of no treachery,” replied the outlaw, “which he hath +ever conceived against me. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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. +</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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“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!” +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn directed that the King’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’s officer was haughty and arrogant, as became a +man of birth when dealing with a low born knave. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +The messenger scowled angrily, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’s message down the knight’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—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’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. +</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’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’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’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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“’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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his companions. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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: +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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’s son, were +entrenched with their forces, sixty thousand strong. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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’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’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’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’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. +</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’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’s noblest houses. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“For De Montfort! For De Montfort!” and “Down with +Henry!” 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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead,” +retorted the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simple truth. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</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’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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“If you recognize me not, Sir Roger,” said Norman of Torn, drily, +“it is evident that your honored guest hath a better memory.” +</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> +“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> +“Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me,” 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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Give him a great draught of brandy,” said the outlaw, “or he +will sink down and choke in the froth of his own terror.” +</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> +“God, what a swordsman!” muttered one. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</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’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’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—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> +“I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or a +mightier one in its stead.” +</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> +“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. +</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’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 “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. +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be this Prince Philip of France?” asked Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but who be you?” +</p> + +<p> +“And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?” continued +the outlaw, ignoring the Prince’s question. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, an it be any of your affair,” replied Philip curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Norman of Torn, they call me,” replied the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” cried Philip. “The great and bloody outlaw?” +Upon his handsome face there was no look of fear or repugnance. +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name for +himself,” he said, “if he rides in such company?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’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’s party sat at supper, Philip of +France, addressing Henry, said: +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some of our good friends from Kent?” asked the King. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Devil of Torn?” asked Henry, incredulously. “Some one be +hoaxing you.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“I owe him nothing,” returned the Earl haughtily, “by his own +word.” +</p> + +<p> +“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’.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be +hanged, hanged he shall be,” replied De Montfort. +</p> + +<p> +“A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains to +catch him, Leicester,” said the King. +</p> + +<p> +“A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,” replied De +Montfort. +</p> + +<p> +“And not,” thought Philip of France, “if I know it, shall the +brave Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow.” +</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’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. +</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> +“A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort,” said the soldier. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring him hither,” commanded the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment sealed with +scented wax wafers. +</p> + +<p> +“Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?” asked the outlaw. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“Come, Flory,” he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, +“lead on.” +</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> +“Here,” he said, “My Lord,” 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, “Enter.” +</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> +“Place your burden upon this table, Flory,” said Norman of Torn. +And when it had been done: “You may go. Return to camp.” +</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’s edge. +</p> + +<p> +“My Lady Bertrade,” he said at last, “I have come to fulfill +a promise.” +</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> +“What promise did Norman of Torn e’er make to Bertrade de +Montfort?” she asked. “I do not understand you, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” 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’s head; horrid with the grin of death baring yellow +fangs. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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—NT! +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“Your visor,” she whispered, “raise your visor.” And +then, as though to herself: “It cannot be; it cannot be.” +</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> +“Mon Dieu!” she cried, “Tell me it is but a cruel +joke.” +</p> + +<p> +“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: +</p> + +<p> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“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> +“Farewell, Bertrade.” 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’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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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!” +</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> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himself away +from danger. +</p> + +<p> +“For my sake,” 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> +“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.” +</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> +“Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where a +few men may seize him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What now! What now!” ejaculated Henry. “What madman be +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or to +more certain ends,” replied the man. +</p> + +<p> +“It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself,” cried De +Montfort. +</p> + +<p> +“Where be the knave?” asked Henry. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold,” cried De Montfort. “Hold fast thy foul tongue. What +meanest thou by uttering such lies, and to my very face?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +De Montfort paled. +</p> + +<p> +“Where be the craven wretch?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort, angrily. +“Where be my daughter, Bertrade?” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +De Montfort turned toward the little gray man. +</p> + +<p> +“He lies,” shouted he. “Her kisses be yet wet upon his +lips.” +</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’s armor and where was the faithful Flory? +</p> + +<p> +“Father!” he ejaculated, “leadest thou the hated English King +against thine own son?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?” cried De Montfort. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was the reply, “when this floor be ankle deep in +English blood and my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come,” cried the King. “Let your men take the dog, De +Montfort!” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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’s side and an English king on her mother’s, she flashed +her defiance and contempt in the single word: +</p> + +<p> +“Cowards!” +</p> + +<p> +“What means this, girl?” demanded De Montfort, “Art gone +stark mad? Know thou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough, girl,” cried the King, “what be this knave to +thee?” +</p> + +<p> +“He loves me, Your Majesty,” she replied proudly, “and I, +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +“I love him, My Lord King.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou lov’st him, Bertrade?” asked Philip of France in a low +tone, pressing nearer to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Philip,” 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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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. +</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’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. +</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—ah! The grim justice of the +retribution—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—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. +</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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</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> +“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.” +</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> +“Thou hast won thy sovereign’s gratitude, my man,” said the +King, kindly. “What be thy name?” +</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> +“Look—at—me. Dost thou—not—remember me? +The—foils—the—blow—twenty-long-years. +Thou—spat—upon—me.” +</p> + +<p> +Henry knelt and peered into the dying face. +</p> + +<p> +“De Vac!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“Outlaw—highwayman—scourge—of—England. +Look—upon—his—face. Open—his +tunic—left—breast.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned up to hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Edward!” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Edward, Madame,” said De Montfort, “but—” +</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> +“Oh God!” 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> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“He lives!” she almost shrieked. “Quick, Henry, our son +lives!” +</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> +“Bertrade!” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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’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. +</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> +“You had best retire, ladies,” he said, “and rest. The Prince +will live.” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</p> + +<p> +“I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince,” urged the +chirurgeon. +</p> + +<p> +“Why call thou me prince?” asked Norman of Torn. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“Her Majesty, the Queen!” +</p> + +<p> +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. +</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> +“Richard, my son!” exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his +face in her hands and kissing him. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame!” exclaimed the surprised man. “Be all the world gone +crazy?” +</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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</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> +“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.” +</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—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> +“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.” +</p> + +<p> +“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?” +</p> + +<p> +She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers. +</p> + +<p> +“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.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Outlaw of Torn, by Edgar Rice Burroughs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OUTLAW OF TORN *** + +***** This file should be named 369-h.htm or 369-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/369/ + +Produced by Judith Boss, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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