CHAPTER IX
The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevillwas drawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde hadridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsomeyoung knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and herfairer friend.
Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the greatcourt, their arms about each other's waists, pouring the lastconfidences into each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected toreturn to Leicester.
"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade," said Mary. "Wert myfather here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only thesmall escort which we be able to give."
"Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade. "Five of thy father's knights beample protection for so short a journey. By evening it will have beenaccomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received sucha sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he willventure again to molest me."
"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?" urged Mary. "Onlyyestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping tous with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on hismaster's household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naughtmore horrible than to fall into his hands."
"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Normanof Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father'scastle. How be it thou so soon has changed thy mind?"
"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows whathorrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyondcompare. Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry'sniece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatredand his vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be suremy father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany theeinstead of five."
"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is ona parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that fiveknights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but amouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shallstart tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day withthe best of word from me."
"If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly. "Indeed it wereplain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery besecond only to their historic stubbornness."
Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroadto protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for ofa truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere sawfight before."
"Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination toleave on the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger allunarmed, that still would you send back my father's knights."
Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mountto her cheek.
"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.
Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying thediscomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; butnow I seest that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to lookupon, but what knowest thou of him?"
"Hush, Mary!" commanded Bertrade. "Thou know not what thou sayest. Iwould not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, andthen--it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and noword hath he sent."
"Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind? My Ladywould not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has senther no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade."
"I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaledfoot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward thecastle.
In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sidesof a little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout.His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the mannerof his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabbyover his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his lifeand been given. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suitof armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guestmight be. It was the little armored man who was speaking.
"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter," he said, "thatyou must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be thepassion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture themaiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you."
"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle?" askedPeter of Colfax.
"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, ifthou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that wemay take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."
Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse ofLeicester's to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest--thefellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method ofobtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
"Come," said the little, armored man irritably. "I cannot bide hereforever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge,and if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians andthen not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."
This last threat decided the Baron.
"It is agreed," he said. "The men shall ride out with you in half anhour. Wait below in the courtyard."
When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned hissquire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.
"Guy," said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye made a rare fizzleof a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrievethy blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in thecourtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which yelost to a handful of men before. You understand?"
"Yes, My Lord!"
"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us.At the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slayhim. Tell the others that these be my orders."
"Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?"
"At once. You may go."
The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to herfather's castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary deStutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting outupon such a dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade deMontfort was firm.
"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightlythat even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. Ishall have enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add evenone more day to my excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and myfather may be sore distressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I mustride today." And so she did, with the five knights that could be sparedfrom the castle's defence.
Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so thatthey were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and windincreased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in suchblinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust tothe instincts of their mounts.
Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were windingacross a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest,into the somber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint ofarmor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of theriders saw it not. On they came, their patient horses plodding slowlythrough the sticky road and hurtling storm.
Now they were half way up the ridge's side. There was a movement in thedark shadows of the grim wood, and then,
without cry or warning, a bandof steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at fullrun down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before ablow could be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeledto meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for ittook the entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slaythe two.
In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of herassailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spursto her palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at arapid pace in pursuit.
Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade deMontfort urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized thearms of Peter of Colfax on the shields of several of the attackingparty.
Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beastsof her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tetheredin their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flyingwhite steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies throughthe clouds.
But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight,Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As itwas, 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 acrossthe roadway between two trees.
As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little,limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.
There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount,so indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter ofColfax, it was all the same to him. In either event, his purpose wouldbe accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman ofTorn from the path he had laid out for him.
That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo theSpaniard, the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whosemean aid the little grim, gray man had purchased since many months tospy upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw.
The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade deMontfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.
"Come," said the man called Guy, "if there be life left in her, we musthasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct."
"I leave ye here," said the little old man. "My part of the business isdone."
And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the foresttoward the castle of Colfax.
Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the fiveknights of Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the othertwo, sorely but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.
The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and,with his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then,drawing his dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each ofthe five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.
"And if one fact be not enough," he muttered, "that mark upon the deadwill quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses ofTorn and Leicester."
Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of adozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill.
Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and PrincessEleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted theiroldest son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.
With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidlyalong the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a whitepalfrey standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward thedriving storm.
"By God," cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own Abdul. There besomething wrong here indeed." But a rapid search of the vicinity, andloud calls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, sothey pressed on toward Stutevill.
Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found,they came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompaniedBertrade from Stutevill.
Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men.The arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these hadbeen Bertrade's escort from Stutevill.
As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, therestared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreadedsign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point.
"The curse of God be on him!" cried De Montfort. "It be the work of theDevil of Torn, my gentlemen," he said to his followers. "Come, we needno further guide to our destination." And, remounting, the little partyspurred back toward Torn.
When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in astrange room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothlessold woman, whose smile was but a fangless snarl.
"Ho, ho!" she croaked. "The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it wouldtake more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come,now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarcerestrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in thegreat hall he paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteouscountenance."
"Who be ye?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed fromthe effects of her fall. "Where am I?" and then, "O, Mon Dieu!" as sheremembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon theshields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror ofher predicament; its utter hopelessness.
Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of theKing; and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her causewith Henry, for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that shewas the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.
In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet,and presently a man's voice at the door.
"Within there, Coll! Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon?"
"Yes, Sir Peter," replied the old woman, "I was but just urging her toarise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below."
"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade," called the man, "no harm will be donethee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will awaitthee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here."
The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but thetones of her answer were calm and level.
"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon," and rising, she hastened todress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down thestairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.
The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girlwould not talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possiblemeans of escape.
A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peterof Colfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in theapartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl's glance ranged thehall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windowsbeyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God's pure airoutside these stifling walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black as theinky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shadesless begrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell upon thetrophies of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, forshe knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by thepersonal prowess of the present master of Colfax.
A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light froma small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather toaccentuate the dim shadows of the place.
Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table,blackened by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dentedand nicked by the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords whenwild and lusty brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of somewandering minstrel, or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains forthe oath of fealty.
Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavychairs which complete
d the rough furnishings of this rough room, andshe shuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floorwhich was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with suchbones and scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.
But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give butpassing heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quicklyhave the encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store forher.
Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and thatin addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, whereshe 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 ledinto a small room, apparently a bedchamber.
As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind herand directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From theblack mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closedthe panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl.At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attracther attention.
If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of hisappearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head asshe said:
"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treacheryagainst thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece?"
"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent," replied thepot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, "love must still findits way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy greatfather and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteousBertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after itsince we didst first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, Ikneel to thee, my dove!" And with cracking joints the fat baron plumpeddown upon his marrow bones.
Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed intoa sneering smile.
"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter," she said, "and, at that, the worst speciesof fool--an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I willhave none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word ofwhat hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, 'tis allI ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you wouldhave. I do not love you, nor ever can I."
Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his alreadyruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to risewith dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the factthat his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all foursbefore 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 gainedhis feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter onher face.
"Return to thy chamber," he thundered. "I will give thee until tomorrowto decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, ortake another position in his household which will bar thee for all timefrom the society of thy kind."
The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.
"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hastnot the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for wellye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his ownhand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me,his daughter." And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, andmounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.
The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late thefollowing afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner beforehim once more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fearsthat she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his direthreat, and so she had again been casting about for some means of escapeor delay.
The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of thecastle, fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasureoverlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itselfcomposed of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron.
If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she couldbarricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fatein the hope that succor might come from some source. But her most subtlewiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpyjailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herselffor a lack of means to thwart her captor.
Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of theold woman and this Bertrade determined to have.
Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon theold woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl'sbody to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reachedquickly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quicklyshe sprang back from the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm,rushed upon her.
"Back!" cried the girl. "Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel thelength of thine own blade."
The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a mosthorrible manner, at the same time calling for help.
Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain whereshe was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars intoplace. Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter ofColfax, with a dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly uponthe outside.
"What's wrong within, Coll," cried the Baron.
"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me," shriekedthe old woman.
"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax," spoke Bertrade, "if you donot immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, forI will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own peoplestand without."
Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all invain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castlethe Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisonerout.
Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guardingher prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a singlesecond. All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, itfound her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.
Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuadeher to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conductto her father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to befooled by his lying tongue.
"Then will I starve you out," he cried at length.
"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,"replied the girl. "But thy old servant here will starve first, for shebe very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you tokill two and still be robbed of thy prey?"
Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner wouldcarry out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels,axes and saws upon the huge door.
For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it waslate at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit ahand and arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise thebars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thusthe keen dagger in the girl's hand put an end to all hopes of enteringwithout completely demolishing the door.
To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peterof Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they hadmade. Bertrade replied but once.
"Seest thou this poniard?" she asked. "When that door falls, this pointenters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable."
As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for thefirst time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glancefrom the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of atigress the old woman was upon
her back, one claw-like paw grasping thewrist which held the dagger.
"Quick, My Lord!" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."
Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in thedoor and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the oldwoman.
Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at theBaron's bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.
As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strodeback and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally hestopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.
"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?" he asked angrily."I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter ofColfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, whatbe your answer now?"
"The same as it has been these past two days," she replied with haughtyscorn. "The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife normistress 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 totouch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king,wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!"
"Hold, chit!" cried the Baron, livid with rage. "You have gone too far.Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love erethe sun rises." And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by thearm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.
The Outlaw of Torn Page 9
