CHAPTER XII
Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester "in a fewdays," nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade deMontfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother.
From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attackson royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until evenBerkshire and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of theoutlaw.
Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair formof Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heardno word from her.
He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he hadparted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had lefthis brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility ofhis hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean onlysuffering and mortification for the woman he loved.
His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed fromthe 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 theheat of a divine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw themtogether, and should that ever chance, while she was still free, hewould let her know that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were oneand the same.
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.
As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of FatherClaude, the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations;the unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the standwhich Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King andbaron were declared.
"It would seem that Henry," said the priest, "by his continued breachesof both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging thebarons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced PrinceEdward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carrythe ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces methat he be, by this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and hisassociates."
"If that be the case," said Norman of Torn, "we shall have war andfighting in real earnest ere many months."
"And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?" askedFather Claude.
"Under the black falcon's wing," laughed he of Torn.
"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son," said the priest, smiling."Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierlyqualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee inthe paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?"
"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't. I have one more dutyto perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thysuggestion, but only on one condition."
"What be that, my son?"
"That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; intruth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little oldman of Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I muchmistrust, be no father to me."
The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes beforehe spoke.
Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of thewindows, listening to such fragments of the conversation within as cameto his attentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirelyconcealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid histraitorous form.
At length the priest spoke.
"Norman of Torn," he said, "so long as thou remain in England, pittingthy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons ofhis realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself hastsaid an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatredagainst them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselesslyaway to satisfy the choler of another.
"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may Iguess and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hopethat it be false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for thequestion to be settled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I bean old man and versed in reading true between the lines, and so I knowthat 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 honorableman than Simon de Montfort, nor none who could more truly decide uponthy future and thy past. Thou may not understand of what I hint, butthou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn."
"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father," replied the outlaw.
"Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt comehither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by hisdecision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be thebest judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless."
"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ridesouth."
"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 ofthe lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze.
Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlawchief and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim,gray, old man.
As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled inanger.
"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devotednear twenty years," he muttered, "if I find not the means to quiet hishalf-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 beas good a time as any. If we come near enough to the King's men on thistrip south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shalltaste the fruits of his own tyranny," then glancing up and realizingthat Spizo, the Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling,cried:
"What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?"
"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently," replied theSpaniard.
The old man eyed him closely.
"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember."
"Yes, My Lord."
An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage ofFather Claude and entered.
"I am honored," said the priest, rising.
"Priest," cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, "Normanof Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here. Iknow not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not outthy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best thatthis meeting take place after we return from the south."
The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and sothe latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest untillater.
A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the headof his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward Londontown. One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and otherservants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents andother impedimenta, and bring back the loot.
But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left toguard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.
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 thecatapult detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, withhis company, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance ofthe column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.
The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling ofsword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and earample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon nopeaceful mission.
All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whomwe have met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baronof C
obarth of Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like theirleader, each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon hishead, and the story of the life of any one would fill a large volumewith romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery and death.
Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, theycame upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meetingwas at a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each otherbefore the ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fairwards.
"What the devil be this," cried one of the knights, as the main body ofthe outlaw horde came into view, "the King's army or one of his foreignlegions?"
"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men," replied the outlaw.
The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand,and there were two women with them.
"Who be ye?" said the outlaw.
"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest knight, he whohad first spoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary deStutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would youof 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 ofTorn, for we be but ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let thewomen go unharmed."
"My Lady Mary is an old friend," said the outlaw. "I called at herfather's home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, andthe lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman ofTorn than they might be in the King's palace."
"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 muchfor his treatment of my father," she added, half smiling.
"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said Norman of Torn."Ride on."
The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castleof Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Rogerde Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Normanof Torn trotted into the courtyard.
He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tanywere waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an oldfriend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming herfriend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle.
"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex," criedJoan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. "Today it is Roger deConde, yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon bedepopulated unless you return quickly to your home."
"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit fromRoger de Conde," said Mary, smiling. "For I have heard tales, and Isee a great ring upon the gentleman's hand--a ring which I have seenbefore."
Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, butasked bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.
"Thrice within the year have I received missives from her," repliedMary. "In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering whyhe did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions nothis name, but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip."
Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly,but no sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon hisface.
"I guess it be better so," he said quietly. "The daughter of a DeMontfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer," he added,a little bitterly.
"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 whatcan you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thoughtyou that she would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from thealliance her father has made for her?"
"You do not understand," he answered, "and I may not tell you; but I askthat 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 ustalk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it uponothers. I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. Itwill never be given to me to make her or any other woman so. I wouldthat I had never come into her life, but I did not know what I wasdoing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness was strong upon me, sothat I was weak and could not resist what I had never known before inall my life--love."
"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously. "Bertradede Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benedictionsimply to have known her."
As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the firsttime, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when shespoke, her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions ofintelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carrieda wounded heart in his breast that longed for surcease from itssufferings--for a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises.
And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was adaily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintancebetween the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, andwith one of them, it threatened even more.
Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw onlyfriendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hardand lonely one. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that hadentered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.
His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him,but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed thefriendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dreamthat either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweetfriendliness which was as new to him as love--how could he mark the linebetween or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!
Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallowin matters of the heart--many there were, she knew, who were thus. Shemight have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she letthings drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
"Be careful of thy heart, Joan," she said, "lest it be getting away fromthee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than heforgets."
The daughter of De Tany flushed.
"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. Donot think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine isequally susceptible."
It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on hertongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.
"I do not love him," she said, "and I be glad that you do not, forI know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he sworeundying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject."
It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands ofthe rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stingingdefeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safefor small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into thehands of the mercenaries of Henry III.
Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from theattacks of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find themsuffering imprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King'ssupporters.
And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan deTany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of themerchants.
While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King'sparty, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city ofLondon was beset with many dangers.
"Why," cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "between robbers androyalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an
army to escort you."
"But then, as I have no army," retorted the laughing girl, "if youreason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe."
And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him withbeing afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that hemight remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.
And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the roadto London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger deConde was of the party.
At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from theoutlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orderswere 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 hebore to the captain of the gate.
The letter contained this brief message:
"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn," and wasunsigned.
All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those whohad attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered twoparties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leaderof the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and,reining in before them, cried brusquely,
"Who be ye?"
"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London," replied Normanof Torn.
"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow. "I asked, who be ye?Answer, and be quick about it."
"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters andservants," 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 boorishinsolence."
"There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a Frenchcoward," cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.
Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Rogerde Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw andunderstood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as heheard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.
Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who weresome ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together theimpact was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the twopowerful war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as eachstruck the exact center of his opponent's shield. Then, wheeling theirhorses and throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Condeand the officer advanced with drawn swords.
The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attemptingto ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly fromthe tip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renewthe battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheelingand turning shoulder to shoulder.
The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, theeyes of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followedevery move of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.
He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grimand haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many wordsthe utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And asJoan de Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hardline, and the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman'sintuition read the death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword ofthe outlaw buried itself in his heart.
The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had satspellbound as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpserolled from the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and hislittle party.
The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and evenwith the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome wasapparent from the first.
Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal tothe thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in theirsaddles as his leaping point found their vitals.
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.
"Come, my ladies," he cried, "quick and you may escape. They be so busywith the battle that they will never notice."
"Take the Lady Mary, John," cried Joan, "I brought Roger de Conde tothis pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end."
"But, My Lady--" cried John.
"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 insafety," and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey acrossthe rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leapedfrantically to one side and started madly up the road down which theyhad come.
"After her, John," commanded Joan peremptorily, "and see that you turnnot back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bringaid."
The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan fromher earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that hewheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Maryde Stutevill.
As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fullytwenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavytoll of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attackedhim from behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall fullupon his helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as hislifeless body rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-trampedclay of the highroad.
She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward hisprostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling,steel-clad horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. Andwell 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 soldierswas at his throat for the coup de grace.
With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body,shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword.
Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag herfrom his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped upand drew rein beside the party.
The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most oftenseen upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor topositions of power and affluence.
He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and foryears one of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfortand the barons.
"What now?" he cried. "What goes on here?"
The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:
"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routedthem, taking these two prisoners."
"Who be ye?" he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside DeConde, and as she raised her head, "My God! The daughter of De Tany! anoble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?"
"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl," replied the girl removing the helm,which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.
"Edward?" he ejaculated. "But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterdayleave Edward in Dover."
"I know not who he be," said Joan de Tany, "except that he be the mostmarvelous 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 thanthat he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has noquarrel with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not makewar on women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when yoursoldiers wantonly set upon us."
"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troubloustimes," replied the Earl, "and that alone were enough to necessitate mykeeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so Iwill grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, buta prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need thecheering company of a fair and loving lady."
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p; The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.
"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking tosome comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honoredin England, even though it does not share the King's favors with hisforeign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?"
"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 beensome years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richardde Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle."
"Then you refuse to release us?" said Joan de Tany.
"Let us not put it thus harshly," countered the Earl. "Rather let us saythat it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers thatthe Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautifuldaughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so--"
"Let us have an end to such foolishness," cried the girl. "I might haveexpected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee,who once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed hisfriends to curry favor with the King."
The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike thegirl, but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers,saying:
"Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I wouldlearn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crownprince."
And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebelbaron which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used asheadquarters by De Fulm.
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