Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWELVE.

  BARING THE WHITE BLADE.

  Ralph Darley's disposition led him to determine to say nothing aboutwhat had passed, but his lame legs forced him to confess how it was hisankles were so bad, and Sir Morton was furious. He was ready to declarewar on a small scale against his neighbour, and carry fire and swordinto his camp. But Ralph's legs were better the next day; and when thewhole history of the two encounters had been gone over, he thoughtbetter of the affair, to the extent of determining to wait till his sonwas quite well again; and when he was quite well, there were otherthings to dwell upon.

  For one, Nick Garth, who had been across to one of the villages beyondthe moor, came back with his head bleeding, and stripped to breeches andshirt.

  His account of his trouble was that he was coming home in the dark,keeping one eye upon a flickering light some distance away up themountain-side. Sometimes it was visible, at others all was black; andhe was wondering whether it had anything to do with the witches' fire ofwhich he had heard tell, when all at once he found himself surrounded byseven or eight wild-looking figures, either in long gowns or cloaks, whoseized him; and upon his resisting wildly, they knocked him down, tookthe best of his clothes away, emptied his pockets, and departed,carrying off a large basket he was taking home, a basket containing twochickens, two ducklings, and a big pat of butter, the present of amarried sister beyond the moors.

  The next day news reached the Black Tor that the witches had been seenagain by two different miners, and in each case the tale was the same.

  The witches were crowding together in a huddled way, in their longcloaks, over a fire. A caldron was hung from three sticks, joinedtogether at the top, and one of the men declared that they must havebeen busy over some unhallowed work.

  "Why do you say that, man?" asked Mark.

  "Because they were chanting some horrible thing together."

  "You heard that?"

  "Ay, Master Mark, I heered it."

  "A song?"

  "Song, Master Mark? Save us, no! A song makes your eyes water if it'sabout solemn things, or it makes you laugh if it's comic; but this madethe marrow in my bones turn hard as taller, for it went through me; andas I watched them, they all got up and joined hands, and began to walkslowly round the great pot over the fire, and the light shone on theirhorrible faces and long ragged gowns. I wanted to run away, but my legswas all of a tremble. I'd ha' give anything to run, but they legswouldn't go, and there I stood, watching 'em as they danced round thefire a little faster, and a little faster, till they were racing about,singing and screeching. And then all at once they stopped and shouted`Wow?' all together, and burst into the most horrid shrecking laughteryou ever heered, and the light went out. That seemed to set my legsgoing, master, and I turned to get away as fast as ever I could go, whenI heered some kind o' wild bird whistle over the mountain-side, andanother answered it close to me: and before I knew where I was, thegreat bird fluttered its wings over me, and I caught my foot in a tuftof heather, and fell."

  "Well, and what then?" asked Mark.

  "Nothing, sir, only that I ran all the way home to my cottage yonder,and you ask my wife, and she'll tell you I hadn't a dry thread on mewhen I got in. Now, sir, what do you say?"

  "All nonsense!" replied Mark bluntly, and he walked away.

  Another few days passed. Mark had been very quiet and thoughtful athome, reading, or making believe to read, and spending a good deal oftime in the mine with Dummy Rugg, who twice over proposed that theyshould go on exploring the grotto-like place he had discovered; but tohis surprise, his young master put it off, and the quiet, silent fellowwaited. He, though, had more tales to tell of the way in which thingsdisappeared from cottages. Pigs, sheep, poultry went in the mostunaccountable way, and the witches who met sometimes on the mountainslope had the credit of spiriting them away.

  "Then why don't the people who lose things follow the witches up, andsee if they have taken them?"

  "Follow 'em up, sir?" said Dummy, opening his eyes very widely. "Theywouldn't dare."

  Then came a day when, feeling dull and bitter and as if he were notenjoying himself at home, as he did the last time he was there, Markmounted one of the stout cob ponies kept for his and his sister's use,and went for a good long round, one which was prolonged so that it wasgetting toward evening, and the sun was peering over the shoulder of oneof the western hills, when, throwing the rein on his cob's neck, andleaving it to pick its own way among the stones of the moorland, heentered a narrow, waste-looking dale, about four miles from the Tor.

  He felt more dull and low-spirited than when he started in the morning,probably from want of a good meal, for he had had nothing sincebreakfast, save a hunch of very cake-like bread and a bowl of milk at acottage farm right up in the Peak, where he had rested his pony while ithad a good feed of oats.

  The dale looked desolation itself, in spite of the gilding of thesetting sun. Stone lay everywhere: not the limestone of his own hillsand cliffs, but grim, black-looking millstone-grit, which here and thereformed craggy, forbidding outlines; and this did not increase hissatisfaction with his ride, when he took up the rein and began to urgethe cob on, to get through the gloomy place.

  But the cob knew better than his master what was best, and refused torisk breaking its legs among the stones with which the moor was strewn.

  "Ugh! you lazy fat brute," cried Mark; "one might just as well walk,and--Who's that?"

  He shaded his eyes from the sun, and looked long and carefully at afigure a few hundred yards ahead till his heart began to beat fast, forhe felt sure that it was Ralph Darley. Ten minutes after, he began tobe convinced, and coming to a clearer place where there was a pretenceof a bit of green sward, the cob broke into a canter of its own will,which brought its rider a good deal nearer to the figure trudging in thesame direction. Then the cob dropped into a walk again, picking its wayamong great blocks of stone; and Mark was certain now that it was RalphDarley, with creel on back, and rod over his shoulder, evidentlyreturning from one of the higher streams after a day's fishing.

  Mark's heart beat a little faster, and he nipped his cob's sides; butthe patient animal would not alter its steady walk, which was at aboutthe same rate as the fisher's, and consequently Mark had to sit andwatch his enemy's back, as, unconscious of his presence, Ralph trudgedon homeward, with one arm across his back to ease up the creel, whichwas fairly heavy with the delicate burden of grayling it contained, theresult of a very successful day.

  "He has his sword on this time," said Mark to himself, "and I've gotmine."

  The lad touched the hilt, to make sure it had not been jerked out of thescabbard during his ride.

  "Just a bit farther on yonder," he muttered, gazing at the steep slopeof a limestone hill to his right, and a mile distant, "there are somenice level bits of turf. I can overtake him then, and we can have a bitof a talk together."

  The cob walked steadily on, avoiding awkward places better than hismaster could have guided him, and suddenly stopped short at a rockypool, where a little spring of water gushed from the foot of a steepslope, and lowered its head to drink.

  "You don't want water now," said Mark angrily; and he tightened therein, but his cob had a mouth like leather; and caring nothing for thebit, bore upon it heavily, stretched out his neck, and had a long deepdrink.

  "I wish I had spurs on," muttered Mark; "I'd give you a couple of suchdigs, my fine fellow."

  Then he sat thinking.

  "Good job I haven't got any on. I should trip, for certain, when wewere at it."

  Then the cob raised its dripping mouth, which it had kept with lips veryclose together, to act as a strainer to keep out tadpoles,water-beetles, leeches, or any other unpleasant creatures that might bein the water, took two or three steps back and aside, and then, noticingthat there was a goodly patch of rich juicy herbage close by the spring,it lowered its head once more, uttered a snort as it blew the grassheavily, to drive off any flies that might be ne
stling among thestrands, and began to crop, crop at the rich feed.

  "Oh come, I'm not going to stand that," cried Mark, dragging at thepony's head. "You're so full of oats now that you can hardly move, andhe'll be looking back directly, and thinking I'm afraid to come on."

  The cob's head was up: so was its obstinate nature. It evidentlyconsidered it would be a sin to leave such a delicious salad, sotempting and juicy, and suitable after a peck or two of dry, husky oats;and, thoroughly determined not to pass the herbage by, it set its forefeet straight out a good distance apart, and strained at the reins till,as Mark pulled and pressed his feet against the stirrups, it seemedprobable that there would be a break.

  "Oh, you brute!" cried the lad angrily; "you ugly, coarse, obstinatebrute! Pony! You're not a pony, I feel sure; you're only a miserablemule, and your father was some long-eared, thick-skinned, thin-tailed,muddle-headed, old jackass. Look here! I'll take out my sword, andprick you with the point."

  The cob evidently did not believe it, and kept on the strain of the bit,till the lad took a rein in each hand, and began to saw the steel fromside to side, making it rattle against the animal's teeth.

  This seemed to have a pleasant effect on the hard mouth, and producedthe result of the cob nodding its head a little; and just then, toMark's great disgust, Ralph turned his head and looked back.

  "There! I expected as much. Now go on, you beast, or I'll kill you."

  The pony snorted with satisfaction, for in his excitement, the rider hadslackened the reins a little. Down went the animal's muzzle; there wasanother puff to blow away the insects, and it began to crop again, withthat pleasant sound heard when grazing animals are amongst rich herbage.

  Then followed a fresh struggle, and the pony won, taking not theslightest notice of the insulting remarks made by its rider about itsdescent, appearance, and habits.

  But at last, perhaps because it had had its own way, more probablybecause it was not hungry, and just when the rider was thinking ofgetting down to walk, and sending Dummy Rugg to find the animal nextday, it raised its head, ground up a little grass between its teeth andthen began to follow Ralph once more, as he trudged on without turninghis head again.

  Still, try as he would, Mark could not get the animal to break into acanter; in fact, the way was impossible; and when the sun had sunk downbelow the western hill, which cast a great purple shadow, to beginrising slowly higher and higher against the mountain on his left, he andRalph were still at about the same distance apart.

  "I can't halloa to him to stop," muttered Mark angrily; "I don't want toseem to know him, but to overtake him, and appear surprised, and thenbreak into a quarrel hotly and at once. Oh! it's enough to drive anyonemad. You brute! I'll never try to ride you again."

  Rather hard, this, upon the patient beast which had carried him for manymiles that day, and was carefully abstaining now from canteringrecklessly amongst dangerous stones, and giving its master a heavy fall.But boys will be unreasonable sometimes, almost as unreasonable as somemen.

  Finding at last that drumming the cob's sides was of no use, jerking thebit of not the slightest avail, and that whacks with the sheathed swordonly produced whisks of the tail, Mark subsided into a sulky silence,and rode at a walk, watching the enemy's back as he trudged steadily on.

  The vale grew more gloomy on the right side, the steep limestone hillbeing all in shadow, and the rough blocks looked like grotesquecreatures peering out from among the blackening bushes; and as he rodeon, the lad could not help thinking that by night the place might easilyscare ignorant, untutored, superstitious people, who saw, or fanciedthey saw, strange lights here and there.

  "And in the sunshine it is as bright as the other hill," thought Mark,as he glanced at the left side of the dale; "not very bright, though.It's a desolate place at the best of times;" and once more he glanced upthe steep slope on his right.

  "Wonder why they call it Ergles," he mused. "Let's see; it's up therewhere the cave with the hot spring is. Not a bit farther on."

  He was still a long distance from home, and knowing that before longRalph Darley would turn off to the left, he again made an effort to urgeon the cob, but in vain.

  "And he'll go home thinking I'm afraid," muttered the lad; "but firsttime I meet him, and he isn't a miserable, wretched, contemptiblecripple, I'll show him I'm not."

  "Then you shall show him now," the cob seemed to say, for it broke intoa smart canter, but only because the bottom of the dale was here freefrom stones, and in a very short time Ralph was overtaken.

  "Here, hi! fellow! clear the road," shouted Mark; and he essayed tostop. But now, the way being good, the cob was anxious to get on andreach its stable, passing Ralph quickly enough, and enraging its ridermore and more.

  "Oh, you brute, you brute!" he muttered. "Now he can't help thinkingI'm afraid of him. If I only had a whip."

  For the moment Mark felt disposed to turn in the saddle, and make someinsulting gesture at the lad behind--one that would make him, if he hadany courage within, come running rapidly in pursuit. But the act wouldhave seemed too weak and boyish, when he wanted to be manly; and herefrained, contenting himself with dragging hard at the rein, till ahundred yards farther the ground grew stony again, and the pony droppedinto a walk, and picked its way in and out more slowly than ever.

  This had the result that Mark desired, for a glance back showed him thatRalph was coming on fast, and in a few minutes he had overtaken him,just as he sprang off his pony and faced round.

  "Oh, it is you," said Mark haughtily.

  "Yes," said Ralph, meeting his eyes boldly.

  "I thought it was. Well, you are not lame now?"

  "No."

  "And I see you have a sword."

  "Yes, I have my sword."

  "Then as we are equal now, and if you are not afraid, we may as wellhave a little conversation with them."

  "Fight?" said Ralph quietly. "Why?"

  "Ha-ha!" laughed Mark, with his face flushing. "Why? Because we aregentlemen, I suppose; because we have been taught to use our swords; atleast I have; and it's the worse for you if you have not."

  "But I have," said Ralph firmly, his own cheeks beginning to look hot;"but I don't see that this is a reason why we two should fight."

  "Then I'll give you another," cried Mark; "because you are a Darley, andI am an Eden, and we cannot meet without drawing swords. Your peoplewere always a set of cut-throats, murderers, robbers, and thieves."

  "It's a lie," cried Ralph hotly. "My people were always gentlemen. Itwas your people who always insulted ours, as you are insulting me now,and did a few minutes ago, when you passed me going quietly on my way."

  "That's enough," said Mark sharply. "Out of the way, beast," and hedrew his sword and struck the cob sharply on the flank, sending ittrotting onward at the risk of breaking its knees.

  "This is your doing," said Ralph quietly, as he threw down his rod, andpassed the strap of his creel over his head, to swing it after.

  "Bah! don't talk," cried Mark hotly. "This place will do. It is asfair for you as for me."

  He made a gesture with his sword toward a tolerably level spot, andRalph bowed his head.

  "Then draw," cried Mark, throwing down his cap.

  Ralph followed his example, and the next moment his own bright bladeleaped from its sheath, and without further preliminary, they crossedtheir trusty blades, which emitted a harsh grating noise as they playedup and down, flashing in the paling evening light, each awaiting theother's attack.

  Mark, in the fear that his enemy would doubt his prowess, began theattack; and in defending himself from his adversary's thrusts Ralph soonshowed him that he had learned the use of his thin rapier from a masterthe equal of his own teacher, thus making the hot-headed youth morecautious, and ready to turn aside the thrusts which followed when heceased his own.

  They fenced equally well, and for a few minutes no harm was done. Thenall at once, in response to a quick thrust, a spot appeared
high upabove the russet leather boot which came half-way up Mark's thigh, andRalph leaped back with a strange feeling of compunction attacking himthat he could not understand.

  "Nothing," cried Mark angrily; "a scratch," as he pressed his teeth uponhis nether lip; and they crossed swords once more, with the wounded ladcommencing the attack with as much vigour as before. And now, forgetfulof everything but the desire to lay one another _hors de combat_, theythrust and parried for the next minute, till Ralph uttered a faint cry,as his adversary's sword passed through his doublet, between his rightarm and ribs, a sharp pang warning him that the blade had piercedsomething more than the velvet he wore.

  Mark dropped the point of his blade, for at that moment a whistle rangout, and he looked inquiringly in the direction from which it had come,leaving himself quite open to any treacherous attack had it beenintended.

  But none was meant, Ralph standing with his left hand pressing his side,just below the armpit, as another whistle was heard from a freshdirection. Others followed, and the adversaries looked sharply at eachother.

  "Not birds," said Ralph quickly.

  "Don't look like it," said Mark bitterly, as he drew his breath with ahissing noise, as if in pain.

  "We're surrounded," cried Ralph excitedly, as they saw six or seven menappearing from different directions, and evidently all making the spotwhere the lads now stood the centre for which they aimed.

  "You coward!" cried Mark bitterly--"a trap--your father's men. _Engarde_!" he shouted. "You shall pay for this!"

  "My father's men?" cried Ralph angrily, as he ignored the other'spreparations for a fresh attack. "You're mad; can't you see they'rethose scoundrels who came to us--Captain Purlrose and his men. Look,there he is--up yonder by that hole."

  "What do they mean, then?" cried Mark, dropping the point of his weapon.

  "Mischief to us," cried Ralph.

  "Or me," said Mark suspiciously.

  "To us, I tell you," cried Ralph.--"You won't give in?"

  "No; will you?"

  "Not if you'll stand by me."

  "And I will," cried Mark excitedly.

  "But you are wounded."

  "So are you."

  "I don't feel it now."

  "No more do I. Hurrah, then; let them come on!"