by G. A. Henty
The man shot away into the darkness and, in a little over a quarter of an hour, was back again with the rope. Oswald took off his doublet.
“Wind it round and round me,” he said. “Begin under the arms. Wind it neatly, and closely, so that it will make no more show than necessary.”
This was soon done, and then Oswald started on his way; and an hour later entered the tavern, and took his seat with three or four of the men from the hold, and called for wine for the party. He sat there for some time, and then one said:
“It is half-past eight; we had best be going. At seven o’clock the gates are shut; but they are opened, for those who belong to the hold, till nine, after which none are admitted till morning, and any who come in then are reported to Baird, and they are lucky if they get off with half a dozen extra goes of sentry duty. Baird is a good master in many things, but he is a bad man to deal with, when he is angry; and if anyone was to be out a second time, and he did it too soon after the first offence, he would have his skin nearly flayed off his back, with a stirrup leather. There is no fooling with the Bairds.”
Oswald arranged with Roger that, if the latter remained in the castle, he should always come down half an hour before the garrison were moving, as they might then exchange a word or two unseen; and accordingly, he took his place at an angle of a building, where he could keep his eye on the steps leading up to the battlements, on the north side.
Presently he saw Roger descending. He waved his hand, and caught his follower’s eye; and the latter, on reaching the courtyard, at once joined him.
“I have a rope, Roger,” Oswald began, “that will reach from the turret to the foot of the craig. I took it off during the night, and have just hidden it away behind a pile of rubbish, in the stable. Are the girls locked up?”
“Yes.”
“Is there any getting the key?”
“No, William Baird himself keeps it.”
“Then we must have something to force the door open, or to saw round the lock.”
“The door is studded with iron.”
“Are the windows barred?”
“No; but they are mere loopholes, and there is no getting through them.”
“I suppose there are steps from their room on to the platform above?”
“No doubt. In fact, there are sure to be.”
“I suppose that you will have no difficulty in silencing the priest?”
Roger smiled.
“No; I think I can answer for him.”
“Could you speak to the girls through the keyhole, Roger?”
“There would be no difficulty about that, master. I have but to choose a time when the priest is out.”
“Then tell them that we are here, Roger, and they are to be ready to escape, whenever we give the signal. Ask them if the trapdoor leading on to the platform is fastened, and whether they can unfasten it. If not, we must break it in, from above. We can get on to the top of the turret, easily enough, by throwing the rope up with a hook attached.
“Of course, the two sentries must be first silenced. I would wait till I, myself, should be on sentry there; but that might not occur for a week, and you cannot prolong your stay here more than another day; therefore, we will try it tonight. I have given the men with the horses notice.
“Do you get the priest bound and gagged, by ten o’clock; everything will be quiet by that time. I will come noiselessly up the steps. At that hour, do you be at the door, and on the lookout for me. The sentries will have to be silenced—that is the most difficult part of the business.”
“We can manage that,” Roger said, confidently. “One blow with my quarterstaff, on the back of the head under the steel cap, will do that noiselessly enough.”
“That would not do, Roger. The man would go down with such a crash, that the fall of his armour on the flags would be heard all over the castle. He must be gripped by the throat, so that he cannot holloa; and then bound tightly, and gagged before he has time to get breath.”
“I suppose that would be the best way,” Roger said regretfully; “but I should like to have struck two good blows; one for the sake of Dame Armstrong, and one for Allan. However, your plan is the best. The only difficulty will be the trapdoor.”
“Well, we must look about today, and get a couple of bits of iron that we can use as a prise. Still, I hope that it will not be needed. I saw a bit of iron, in the stables, that I think I can bend into a hook for the rope; and if I can’t, I have no doubt that you can.
“That is all. You had better move away now. People will be stirring, directly.”
That night, at ten o’clock, when all in the hold had been asleep half an hour, Oswald rose quietly from the rushes, on which he and a dozen of his comrades were sleeping, and made his way noiselessly out of the room; went into the stables and fetched the piece of iron, which he had, during the day, placed so that he could feel it in the dark; took the coil of rope in his hands, and ascended the steps. The top was but some ten feet from the turret. He stood quiet, until he heard the sentry moving away from him, then he mounted the last steps, and in a moment reached the foot of the turret stairs. Roger was standing there.
“All right, master!” he whispered. “I took the priest by surprise, and he was gagged before he knew what was happening. I tore the blanket up into strips, and tied him down onto his pallet with them. He is safe enough.
“Now for the sentries. I will take the one to the right, first. I will go out and stand in the angle. It is a dark night, and there is no chance of his seeing me. When you hear his walk cease, you will know that I have got him. I have managed to bring up a rope, that I have cut into handy lengths. Here are two of them.
“There, he has just turned, so I will go at once.”
“How about the trapdoor?”
“It is all right, master. It is bolted on the inside. They have tried the bolts, and find they can move them;” and with these words, he at once stepped noiselessly out.
Oswald stood listening. Presently he heard the returning steps of the sentry. They came close up to the turret, and then suddenly ceased.
He at once hurried round. The sentry hung limp in Roger’s grasp. Oswald bound his hands tightly, and twisted the rope three or four times round his body, and securely knotted it. Then he tied the ankles tightly together.
“I will lay him down,” Roger whispered, when he had done so.
Oswald bent the man’s legs and, trussing him up, fastened the rope from the ankles to that which bound the wrists. Roger now relaxed his grip of the man’s throat, thrust a piece of wood between his teeth, and fastened it, by a string going round the back of the head. He then took off his steel cap, and laid it some distance away.
“That will do for him, master. I reckon that he will be an hour or two, before he will get breath enough to holloa, even without that gag.”
The other man was captured as silently as the former had been. When he was bound, Roger said:
“Now for the hook, master.”
“Here is the iron. It was too strong for me to bend.”
Roger took it and, exerting his great strength, bent it across his knee. Then he took the coil of rope, and tied a knot at the end, and with some smaller cord lashed it securely along the whole length of the hook.
“Now, Master, do you get on to my shoulders, and I think you will be able to hook it to the battlements. It is not above twelve feet. If you find that you cannot, step on my head.”
“I am sure I can reach it without that, Roger.”
And indeed, he found that he could do so easily; and having fixed it firmly, he got hold of the rope, and hoisted himself to the top of the turret. In a minute, Roger was beside him.
Feeling about, they soon discovered the trapdoor, on which Roger knocked three times. Then they heard a grating sound below and, shortly, one end of the heavy trapdoor was slightly raised. The two men got their fingers under it, and pulled it up, and Janet and Jessie ran out, both crying with joy and excitement.
> “Hush!” Oswald whispered. “Do not utter a sound. There are sentries on other parts of the walls, and the slightest noise might be heard.
“Now, we will knot this rope.”
He and Roger set to work, and before long knots were tied, a foot apart, along the whole length of the rope.
“I will take you down first, Jessie, for you are the lightest,” Oswald said.
“Now, Roger, tie us together.”
One of the pieces of rope Roger had brought was passed round and round them, tying them firmly, face to face.
“Now, Jessie, you had best take hold of the rope, too, and take as much of your weight off me as you can. It is a long way down; and, though I think that I could carry your weight that distance, it is best that you should help me as much as you are able.”
The rope was shifted to the outside of the turret. Roger, after fixing it firmly, helped them over the battlements, holding Oswald by the collar, until he had a firm grasp of the rope in his hands, and obtained a hold with his feet.
“That is right, Jessie,” he whispered, as the girl also took a firm hold of the rope. “You are no weight, like that. Now, let the rope pass gradually through your hands and, when I tell you, hold tight by one of the knots.”
After lowering himself forty feet, Oswald found that he was standing on a ledge of rock, three inches wide, at the foot of the wall.
“Now, dear, it will be more difficult,” he said. “You must use one of your hands, to push yourself off from any rugged points. There are not many of them. I had a look at the rock today, and its face is almost smooth. I will do the best I can to keep you from it.”
In another three minutes, they stood at the foot of the craig. Oswald shook the rope violently, to let those above know that they were down. Then he untied the cord that bound him to his cousin, who at once sat down, sobbing hysterically. Oswald put his hand upon her shoulder.
“Steady, Jessie, steady. You have been brave and quiet, coming down. The danger is over now, but we have a long walk and a longer ride before us, and you will need all your strength.”
In a very short time, Roger and Janet joined them. As soon as she was untied, Janet threw her arms round Oswald’s neck, and spoke for the first time.
“Oh, Oswald, from what have you saved us! How brave and good of you to risk so much!”
“Tut, tut, Janet, as if we should leave you here, in the hands of the Bairds, without making an effort to free you! Now, come along, dear. Be very careful how you walk, till we get down to the bottom. It is pretty steep and, if you were to set a stone rolling, we might have them after us, in no time. As it is, we shall only have an hour and a half start, for the sentries will be relieved at midnight. However, by that time we shall be on horseback, and of course they won’t know which road we have taken.”
As soon as they came to level ground, they set off at a run. They were but a mile from the village when they heard, on the still night air, distant shouts, followed half a minute later by the winding of a horn; then, almost immediately, a glimmering light appeared on the highest turret of the hold, and this rapidly broadened out into a sheet of flame.
“They have discovered our escape, by some misfortune or other,” Oswald exclaimed, “and they will be after us, before many minutes have passed. You must run in earnest now, girls.”
“Do you run on, Oswald,” Janet said, “you and Roger. We will turn and walk back. They will do us no harm.”
Oswald thought of the murder of the girls’ mother, and knew that, in their fury at having been tricked, the Bairds were capable of anything.
“It is not to be thought of,” he said. “Such a watch would henceforth be kept that there would be no possibility, whatever, of effecting your rescue. We must take our chance together.
“What think you had best be done, Roger?”
“In sooth, I know not. I am ready to do whatever you think best.”
“We cannot hope to reach Parton, before they overtake us,” Oswald said. “Besides, the Bairds are sure to have many friends there, and the lighted beacon will warn all the countryside that something unusual has happened. No, we cannot think of going there.”
“But you said that there were horses,” Janet said.
“They are but a short distance on this side of the town. We could not hope to get there before the Bairds; and, even if we did, it would be a quarter of an hour before we could mount and be off.”
“Could we not hide and get the horses after they have passed, master?” Roger suggested.
“It would be useless, Roger. The road leads up and down this valley, and there would be no possibility of riding the horses across the hills, at night; so that we should have either to ride down through Parton, or up past the Bairds’ hold. No, the horses must be given up, for the present. The only thing that I can see is to cross the Esk, and to take refuge in the hills. I know not if there are any fords, or where they are; but, were we to turn to the right, we should be getting farther and farther away. The Esk is no great width, and we can carry them across it, easily enough.”
“The water will be dreadfully cold,” Jessie said, with a shiver, for it was now the beginning of April.
“Hush, Jessie!” her sister said. “What matters a little cold, when our lives are at stake?”
“No, that is our only hope,” Oswald said. “Quick, girls, there is no time to lose.”
The river was but some fifty yards from the road, and they ran down to it.
“Now, girls,” Oswald said when they reached it, “you must take off your cloaks, and all upper garments. Were you to get these wet you would, before morning, die of cold. Don’t lose a moment. Undress under the shelter of these bushes.
“Now, Roger, let us move a few yards away, and then take off our doublets and shirts, and swim across, holding them above the water. By the time that we are back, the girls will be ready.”
“I will carry them across, master. It is of no use two of us going, with so light a burden. I shall make nothing of it.”
Oswald made no opposition and, a minute later, the shirts and doublets were made into a bundle, and bound on Roger’s head. He waded into the water until it reached his chin, and then swam out. The distance to be traversed was but some fifteen yards, and a few strokes of his brawny arms brought him to the opposite bank. Having laid down his bundle there, he swam quickly back again.
“Are you ready, girls?” Oswald asked.
“Yes,” Janet replied, and two white figures came out from the bushes, each carrying a bundle.
“Do you go into the bushes again, for a minute. We cannot take you and the bundles over together; and it is better that you should stand here, in dry things, than wait in wet ones, over there.”
A minute sufficed to tie the bundles on the heads of the two men. They soon swam across to the other side, left them there, and returned.
“The water is bitterly cold for the girls,” Oswald said, as they swam across together.
“It is, master, but they will only be in it for a minute, and they will soon be warm again.”
“Now, girls.”
“We have just heard the sound of horses in the distance, Oswald,” Janet said.
He listened.
“Sound travels far, this still night,” he said; “they can only just have started. We shall be across long before they come along.
“Now, Jessie, we will take you first. The stream runs strongly, and it were best that you went over separately. All you have to do is to put a hand on a shoulder of each of us. Come along.”
“I will carry her till we get into deep water,” Roger said, catching the girl up in his arms, and running into the stream.
Jessie gasped, as the water reached her.
“It will be over in a minute,” Oswald said encouragingly. “Now, we are going to swim. Put your hands upon our shoulders. That is right.”
Striking out strongly, they easily carried her until she was in her depth.
“Now, dear, get ashore, and
stand behind those bushes, and take off your wet things and put on your dry ones. We will have Janet across, in no time.”
The girl was carried across as easily as her sister had been.
“Here is your bundle, dear. Jessie has taken hers. Dress as quickly as you can. Stoop down, as soon as you reach the bushes. They will be here, directly.”
Janet ran to the thicket, and Oswald and Roger threw themselves down behind a great stone. Two minutes later, they could hear the thunder of hoofs go along the road opposite, but could not make out the figures.
“How many are there of them, do you think, Roger?”
“A dozen or so, master.”
“Yes, I should think you are right. However, it makes no difference; were there ten times as many, they would not catch us, tonight.”
BOTH SIDES THE BORDER (Part 3)
CHAPTER 14
In Hiding
The moment the horsemen had gone by, Oswald and Roger hastily dressed again. It was three or four minutes before the girls joined them.
“We have been a long time, Oswald, but our fingers are so cold that we could not tie the strings.”
“You will soon be warm. Climbing the hill will set your blood in motion.”
There was no hurry now. They were safe until the morning.
“We will make up the hill until you are thoroughly warm, and then we will discuss matters.”
Before they were very far up the ascent, both girls declared that they were comfortably warm again.
“Well, Roger, what do you think our best course will be? The Bairds have, of course, sent horsemen along the other road. They will have heard, from the priest, that we have but a few minutes’ start; and will know that we cannot have gone far. The party who passed us will doubtless stop at Parton, the other at the next village higher up; and they will be sure that either we concealed ourselves as they passed, or have taken to the hills on one side or other of the valley. They will naturally suppose that it is this side, as it would be madness for us to plunge farther into the country to the west; and you may be sure there will be scores of men out on these hills, tomorrow, searching for us; and some of them may ride nearly to Hiniltie, to cut us off there in case we escape the searchers on the hills.
