CHAPTER XI--BY KIMBERLEY MOAT
After the Battle of the Pass we had a season of quiet at Mountjoy. KingRichard had sailed on the Great Crusade, leaving his brother John asRegent; and the people of England, nobles and commons alike, learnedthat there was a far worse rule than that of stern old Henry of Anjou,for John Lackland, his younger son, had at once the greed of a tiger andthe meanness of a rat. Many of the high places of Church and State werefilled with his favorites--miserable creatures for the most part whoseonly merits were a ready complaisance to the wishes of their master anda measure of craft and subtlety in furtherance of his schemes. Sheriffsand bailiffs of a yet more contemptible strain hurried to do the biddingof these velvet-clad beggars and thieves, and honest and forthright menled a hard life indeed unless they were themselves high in power and ofnumerous following.
Among these last might be reckoned the Mountjoys and their friends andallies, the Carletons of Teramore. We were too strong and too valuablein the defense of the Western Marches to be meddled with save for thegreatest cause; so the land for some leagues about us was in a measurefree from the ills which now and again brought other portions of theKingdom to the verge of rebellion.
Sir Cedric, as now we gladly styled him, was high in the councils ofMountjoy. My father consulted him as often as myself on the gravestquestions; and Lady Mountjoy willingly spent uncounted hours inbettering his knowledge of polite and courtly ways and of those diverslittle matters of knightly bearing to which in our rough Western land wegive mayhap too little heed. At the books, to her amaze, he soon had faroutstripped her. An uncle of his was one of the monks at Kirkwald Abbey,and a famous Latin scholar. For a year past, Cedric had been makingfrequent journeys to the Abbey; and once we had old Father Benedict atMountjoy for a month or more. For hours together they would pore overdusty and ancient tomes that made me ache with weariness but to lookupon them. The first we knew, our Cedric was better at the Latin readingthan any layman we had seen or heard of. History and chronicles weregood meat and drink to him; and often, with his head between the coversof a book, his dinner would be quite forgot but for my lusty calling.
Withal he was no pale bookworm, but a lusty and rollicking lad who inrough and tumble play could lay me on the broad of my back with scarce aminute's striving. At the sword-play I was ever his better, but hismastery of the cross-bow grew yet more wonderful as the seasons passed.Even the oldsters admitted that he equalled Marvin at Marvin's best.Already he had the name of the best cross-bowman in England; and I foundthat strangers to our county, who had heard nothing of the deeds of myfather and all our noble forbears, had knowledge, nevertheless, ofMountjoy as the house to which Sir Cedric gave allegiance.
But I think the thing that warmed me most toward my former squire andconstant comrade was the loyalty he ever had to the class of folk fromwhich he sprung. Lord Mountjoy often gave to him authority over workingcrews at some necessary task on farm or highway or scouting parties ofswordsmen and archers that rode the Marches to guard against the Welshmarauders. It would have been no wonder had such a sudden rise to titleand preferment bred in a youth who had been born in a forester's cot acertain arrogance of manner and an overweening confidence in his ownworth and deserts. But, by his own desire, the archers and men-at-armsof Mountjoy still addressed him as they had when his station was nohigher than theirs; and though he could be quick and firm on occasion,he was never above listening to and profiting by the counsels of theelder men in buckram or in hodden gray. Nor did he forget the cottage inPelham Wood which housed his old father and his small, tow-headedbrethren. Since he had dwelt at Mountjoy Hall, scarce a month had passedwithout his riding thence and leaving with them some share in anyguerdon he had won.
It was after such a journey that Cedric returned to the Hall one autumnevening in such a mood of silence and depression as I had never seensince those sad days when he quarreled with my father over thepunishment due the churls of De Lancey Manor. At his supper he spoke noword, and ate and drank but little. My lady mother did anxiously inquireif he were ill, for we knew him well as a valiant trencherman, and hehad ridden far in a frosty air. He put away her questionings with hisusual courtesy, denying that aught ailed him; but me he could not soeasily check, for I followed him to his room, and, finding him sittingwith his face in his hands, demanded to know as friend and comrade whathad turned his world awry.
"Sir Richard," he replied sadly, "hast ever had friend of thine flunginto dungeon cell, there to lie at the pleasure of some low-livingscoundrel?"
"Nay," I answered quickly, "this evil I have thus far 'scaped, though Iwell know 'tis common enough in these days, and many there be thatsuffer it."
"Of those I am one," replied Cedric. "And now I rack my head to knowwhether or not there be any possible help for it. Wilfrid, son of thefarmer of Birkenhead, was my comrade and playmate since ever I canremember. We hunted and fished and swam together and willingly foughteach other's battles when we were but little lads. Once he plunged inand pulled me from the Tarleton Water, when, far gone with cramp, I hadtwice sunken. His handling of the long-bow is well-nigh equal to myfather's, and better than that of any youth I know. I had lately plannedto bring him to Mountjoy and to say a word to thy father of hisdeserts."
"And who is it that now hath seized him?"
"'Tis that wry-mouthed and rat-eyed scoundrel, Bardolph, that latelyhath been made King's Bailiff, and hath in charge the rebuilding ofKimberley Castle."
"He that plundered the chapel at Ravenstone?"
"The same. He would steal the pennies from the eyes of the dead, if noavenger were by. But 'tis spite rather than greed that prompts him inthis matter of my friend. Some years ago, when we were all ladstogether, young Bardolph, who is the son of an innkeeper at Rothwell,came riding past Birkenhead with some village comrades of his. In afoolish attempt at wit, he cast some foul insult at Wilfrid who stood bythe way, watching them pass. In an instant, Wilfrid had snatched himfrom the saddle and rolled him well in a puddle of mud that chanced tobe at hand, so that Bardolph rode home at last a sorry spectacle indeed.That day he ne'er forgot, it seems, and only now has found anopportunity for vengeance. He hath been given the charge of the work atKimberley where Prince John plans to enlarge and strengthen the fortressand fill it with a numerous garrison. He hath need of many cattle forthe work of hauling the stone and timber; and though we are not now atwar, and there can be seen no pressing need for haste, he seizes thehorses and oxen from the farmers roundabout and drives the work asthough the Scotch and Welsh were o'er the borders both at once. Withthis excuse he seized the yoke cattle at Birkenhead."
"But Birkenhead is full five leagues from Kimberley."
"Aye, and that it is that shows the act was done with malice and withnone of necessity. A hundred farms were nearer to the castle, and someof them might far better spare their oxen. 'Twas in the thick of harvesttoo. Thou knowest how the rains have held it back till it seems that thesnows may cover the uncut grain if the farmers make not haste. ButWilfrid made shift to go on with his hauling in some sort. He put to theyoke a pair of half-broke steers that should not have worked till thespring, and with half loads was bringing his crops to barn and stack.Then what did Bardolph do but come again, with two soldiers at his back,and make demand of Wilfrid for these cattle also."
"The hound! I would I had been there to tell him straight what manner ofcur he is."
"There was no need for that. Wilfrid forthwith flew into such a rage asdrove from him all fear of what might betide. First he shouted at thebailiff some most naked truths as to his character and doings, then herushed upon him, and, warding off a sword blow, pulled him from hishorse, even as he had done that other time, and ere the soldiers couldinterfere had broken Bardolph's nose with one great blow from his fist."
"Oh Saints above! Did he so indeed? There's a yeoman for thee of thesort that win England's battles. I would we _had_ him under Mountjoybanner. But what next occurred?"
"The soldiers had leaped from their horses as soon a
s the bailiff wentdown, and both together they seized Wilfrid and overthrew and bound himfast. Then, lashing him on the back of a horse, they set out forKimberley, with he of the broken nose riding close behind, shedding astream of blood and furious oaths. The neighbor folk say that over andover again he swore that young Birkenhead should never leave Kimberleyalive."
"By'r Lady!" I cried, "there's naught to prevent him making good histhreats. He is in command at Kimberley now that the Sheriff hath leftfor the North."
Cedric nodded sadly.
"'Tis so. He dares not put him to death openly, but he may starve him inhis cell and report that he died of a sickness. And if the Sheriffreturns, I doubt of much betterment for one in Wilfrid's plight. Thouknowest well that throughout England at this moment there are lying indungeons, with chains on their limbs, full many honest men who are asinnocent of any crime as thou or me."
"I know it well indeed. And of these there are many as to whom theirvery jailers know not the charge against them, for their accusers arelong ago dead. 'Tis a hard world we live in, Cedric; but I see not howwe may better it."
Cedric sprang up and faced me with high-held head and blazing eyes.
"Sir Richard, if thou'lt help me, we _may_ better this hard world forone luckless man. It has come to me how we may take Wilfrid ofBirkenhead from the very walls of Kimberley."
"Help thee? My word upon it, I _will_ help thee if it can be done atall. Say on."
"My thought is this," answered Cedric quickly, whilst tears of joysprang to his eyes at my hearty seconding, "one that came from Kimberleyeven as we talked at my father's to-day hath told us that Wilfrid isconfined not in the castle dungeons, since those are in some wayconcerned in the present changes, but in a strong room in the tower,some forty feet above the moat. The window is not barred, since theapartment was never meant to serve for prison; but the wall is sheerbelow it to the cliff that steeply slopes from thence to the moat.'Twould be sure death to fling one's self down, since the rock at thebase is after all too wide to be passed by a leap from the window. Butwith a stout rope now, and with friends on the farther side with horsesnot far off--"
"But the sentries on the battlements would surely spy him as hedescended."
"Not on a moonless night, and especially if he knew the moment when thesentry had just passed overhead and therefore would not soon return.'Tis a desperate thing, I own; but believe me, Sir Richard, we shall notfail. Already I see the way to take the rope and our messages to Wilfridin his cell. There is a group of trees which in the last score of yearswhile the castle has been little used as a stronghold, has been allowedto grow on the hither side of the moat, just opposite the tower. Therewe will hide and do our part in the venture. To-morrow night will bemoonless. What sayest thou?"
----
The next day at noon, soon after Bardolph of the Broken Nose had riddenaway from Kimberley on some necessary errand, a stout old monk, in theflowing robe of his order, with hood and cowl closely drawn about hisface, and bearing a basket on his arm, appeared at the gate ofKimberley. He wished to see the prisoner, Wilfrid, and to bear to himthe consolations of religion and also some articles of food whichfriends of his had prepared. The clerkly youth who seemed in authorityin the absence of the bailiff was much in doubt as to the wisdom ofpermitting any such entry, and, indeed, at first refused. But the goodmonk fairly overwhelmed him with quotations from the Scripture and thewritings of the Holy Fathers relative to his duty to visit those whowere sick or in prison, and quoted so many Latin texts that the youthwas soon fairly bewildered and overcome. Stipulating only that thebasket be left below, since the bailiff had given strict orders that nofood was to be taken to the prisoner by any save himself, he led the wayup the tower stairs, and unlocking the heavy oaken door, admitted themonk to the room where Birkenhead was confined.
In another quarter of an hour the monk had departed as he came, takingup his basket again at the gateway and leaving with the chatelaine hisheartiest blessing. To me, who had been anxiously watching from one ofthe village houses, a furlong from the walls, it seemed that he walkedwith much firmer and more vigorous step as he returned o'er thedrawbridge than he had when first he crossed it. But if this were so,none in the castle seemed to remark it--at any rate the monk's departurewas not interrupted, and he passed out of the village, looking neitherto the right nor the left.
Soon after, I followed and overtook him after he had entered a thickcopse of yew and hazel half a mile away. Beneath that leafy screen,Cedric flung off the monkish gown and hood, dropped the basket on theground, and stood gazing at it gloomily.
"Sir Richard," he said at length, "Wilfrid of Birkenhead hath been forthree days close shut in that tower room, and no least morsel of foodhath been given him. Bardolph verily means to compass his death bystarving."
"The miserable hound!" I answered between set teeth, "'tis a pityWilfrid did not strike a thought harder and break his worthless skull."
Cedric's face was wried with pain and wrath. He stamped upon the groundin bitter impatience. Then, pulling from the basket the huge meat piewhich had formed the greater part of the provision he had sought tocarry to the prisoner, he dropped it before him and struck it with mostvicious kick before it reached the ground. The crust flew off in a dozenpieces, and revealed the inner part as no juicy slices of flesh of fowlor pig but a close-wound coil of hempen rope, such as no mortal mancould feed upon.
"Had I placed this beneath my armpits as was my first thought," growledCedric, "it would now have been safe hidden in the bundle of straw theyhave given Wilfrid for a bed. Fortune favored us not, it seems; butmayhap that fickle jade will smile on our further contrivings. I made anew plan even as I climbed the tower stairs; and Wilfrid is wellapprised of it. 'Tis not so simple as the first nor seemingly so sure;but it may serve our turn."
"Must we wait till the morrow and risk another entry of the castle?" Iquestioned. "Mayhap the bailiff will not ride abroad so opportunely."
"Nay, we shall make the essay to-night," he answered slowly. "Timepresses, if Wilfrid is not to be so weakened by fasting as to beincapable of any effort in his own behalf. Marcel hath already been toldto have the horses here at nine and await our coming till dawn if needbe. If we can come by a ball of fine, stout cord like fishing lines, wewill have that rope in the tower room by midnight. Then all the restwill be quickly done, and Wilfrid a dozen leagues from Kimberley eresunrise."
----
An hour before midnight Cedric and I lay under the group of saplings,ten yards from the castle moat and opposite the window of the room whichheld young Wilfrid of Birkenhead. Beside us on the ground, lay the ballof cord, with one projecting end fastened to the coil of rope. NowCedric took a cross-bow bolt from the sack at his girdle and tied theother end of the cord firmly about it. Then, drawing the bow, he placedthe bolt in groove.
The sky was covered with thin clouds that half obscured the stars; andthe moon had not yet risen. The castle wall on the other side of themoat was a gray blur in the murk, but we could clearly see the sentinelas he slowly paced his rounds of the battlements. The steel cap that hewore and the point of his spear caught now and again a gleam of thestarlight. Twenty feet below the tower's summit a blacker square in thewall was the window of Wilfrid's cell; and to the right of this couldbarely be discerned the lattice which had been swung wide as though toadmit the fresher air.
Cedric crouched on his knees, gazing at the window till the sentrypassed from sight; then softly he uttered the cry of an owl. At oncesome white object fluttered in the blackness of the cell window. Cedricrose to his feet, took careful aim at the window and let fly the bolt.But alas! the pull of the cord as it unwound from the ball checked thequarrel sadly, and it rang on the stones of the wall no higher than ourheads. We crouched at once in the shadows, certain that the sentry hadheard its steely stroke; but he came not back to the tower; and soon webreathed again.
Cedric drew in the line and recharged his w
eapon, whispering to me thewhile that he should have better known than to have it so tightlycoiled, and that another try, with the cord lying loose, would surelyplace the bolt within the window.
Now the sentry came again on his rounds; and we waited perforce for hispassing. When he had gone once more Cedric threw his weapon to hisshoulder and sent the bolt on its way. How my ears strained inlistening! And, an instant later, how my heart sank when I heard oncemore the clang of iron 'gainst the tower stones and realized that Cedrichad failed a second time to strike his mark at fifty paces.
This time the sentry heard the stroke--or so it seemed--for he camehurrying back to the tower battlements, and peered downward past theopen window for minutes together. But all had become as still as death,and there was naught that he could see; so at length he turned away andresumed his pacing.
As Cedric again drew in the quarrel, he whispered to me:
"I have it now. The line drew down my bolt by a yard or more. I mustallow for that by a higher aim. The third cast never fails; and for thatwe yet have time ere yonder sentry is sure there's mischief afoot."
He took a fresh bolt and tied the cord with care about it. Then for thethird time he aimed at the tower above us. 'Twas the lucky third indeed,for, close following the whir of the quarrel, came a muffled thud as itstruck the oaken door within the cell. This seemed not to reach the earsof the sentry on the other side of the battlements, for though welistened with bated breath, there was no sound of his returningfootsteps. The next instant we could see the unspent portion of the linewas tightening with a pull from the tower. Then straightway the coil ofrope left its place at our feet, swam through the moat and climbed thetower's side.
Cedric and I clasped hands in joy, for now we could see our projectsucceeding. In no more time than he needed to descend from the window,swim the moat and reach the horses in the hazel copse, Wilfrid would besafely away from Kimberley.
Once more the sentry made his rounds, and once more passed regardless ofwhat was going forward six yards below him. Wilfrid appeared at thewindow, and, lowering himself hand over hand, came swiftly down the ropeto the cliff below. There misfortune awaited us. As he dangled from therope with his feet seeking a hold on the sloping cliff, he loosened abit of rock, the size of a man's head, that lay near the tower base; andthis accursed stone slid and rolled noisily down the crag and struck thewaters of the moat with a hideous splashing.
At once the sentry, whose ears mayhap had been sharpened by the othernoise for which he had found no reason, came running again to the tower.Peering into the darkness below, he spied the prisoner just as he leapeddown the rock and plunged into the moat.
The sentinel was a ready man and determined,--such an one as might wellhave served a better master. Setting up a lusty shout of alarm, heturned at once to a pile of the stones that were kept on the battlementsfor the repelling of besiegers, and began hurling these into the moat.
The water's surface was in shadow and we could not see the head of theswimmer, nor could we tell whether any of the soldier's wild-flungmissiles had found their mark. A minute passed wherein my blood seemedto freeze and my limbs to lock themselves fast like those of one whoperishes from a mad dog's bite. The stones still followed one another invicious plunges into the black waters: and the soldier continued tohalloo for the guardsmen at the gate to lower the bridge and search thefarther bank.
Then Cedric broke away from me and plunged into the moat. Forgetting allelse, I followed him to the water's edge, stood peering vainly into theblackness, and might have dived in also had he not speedily returned. Hewas swimming lustily with one hand, and with the other bearing up hiscomrade. I seized them both as they came within reach, and hauled themashore. Cedric joined with me and we drew Wilfrid up the bank and halfway to the group of saplings. There Cedric stopped with a groan ofmisery, and fell on his knees by the limp body of his friend. The windhad brushed the clouds from the sky; and by the starlight I saw thatWilfrid's head had been crushed by one of the stones from thebattlements.
Cedric rose to his feet and shook his fist in frenzy toward the King'sstronghold. But already the bridge was down, and the guard was pouringacross. I plucked my comrade by the sleeve.
"Come Cedric, come! Our friend is past all help. Let us away ere theyslay us also."
He turned to me with a face of deathly whiteness; and for a moment Ithought he would refuse. But I seized his hand, and he let me hurry himto the shelter of the trees. Through these we quickly passed, and thenraced down the dim-lit field to a hedgerow a furlong away. Runningbehind this, we soon distanced our pursuers.
In half an hour we had come by roundabout ways to the hazel copse whereMarcel and the horses awaited us. In silence we mounted, and in silencerode through all the hours of darkness, Cedric sitting with head bowedforward, enwrapped in gloomy thought as in a sable garment. The way wasrough and weary, and we found no solace in the fragrance of the harvestfields and leaf-strewn woods or in the song of the night wind. As thesun rose behind a veil of gray and chilling mists, we climbed the slopesof Rowan Hill and sighted the towers of Mountjoy.
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