Edgar the Ready 13

Edgar the Ready 13

"Straight along the lines a furlong. Let the youths bring the gear, and

for the nonce I will walk to it."

 

It was still five minutes short of noon when Edgar mounted and, closely

shepherded by Arthur Pomeroy, who seemed to fear he might yet escape,

rode off to the competitors’ enclosure adjoining the lists.

 

"Thou must know," said Arthur, "that I have agreed with the leader of

the Gascon esquires that our men shall be placed facing opponents of the

same relative powers. ’Twould be a poor spectacle if our best were

pitted against their weakest and their strongest against our tail end;

so we have, for the first onset only, arranged that best shall meet

best, and so forth. Thou art matched against Gaston Dugarde."

 

"I know nothing of him," replied Edgar. "Is he weak?"

 

"Weak! Thou wilt see. We have not thrown thee away."

 

Exactly how to take the reply Edgar hardly knew, but he was too full of

his great trouble and too anxious to be through with the present

encounter to care to enquire further. The intense eagerness with which

he had looked forward to so thrilling a mêlée had gone, and he now only

wished it over, that he might continue his enquiries respecting Sir

John.

 

As they cantered into the enclosure, however, he felt his enthusiasm

revive. No one could view the glittering scene unmoved, and to Edgar,

who had never been to a tournament before, the scene was full of meaning

and interest. The wide sweep of the lists, the towering stands at the

middle, the dense masses of spectators--a large proportion of whom were

soldiers--the glitter of armour, and the tramp of spirited chargers, all

struck the fullest note of chivalry and warriorhood.

 

"Come, Arthur," cried one of the English esquires impatiently, "thou art

behindhand. Guy de Parfrey hath marshalled his men, and awaits us."

 

"No matter, Stephen, since we are now seven. Now, comrades all, wheel

into line in the order agreed upon. Forget not the rules--I would not

that we scored by transgressing them. Strike home, and remember ’tis

St. George for England!"

 

The English esquires wheeled into their places and, headed by their

captain, Arthur Pomeroy, cantered gaily into the lists in single file

simultaneously with their adversaries. Amidst a gay fanfare of

trumpets, the two lines of steel-clad horsemen filed, saluting, before

the Earl of Derby. Then, without a pause, they diverged to their own

ends of the lists, each man halting his steed and turning as the line

passed his own position. In a very few seconds the files of prancing

horsemen became two lines of motionless figures with lances couched,

facing one another watchfully.

 

There was but a slight pause, and then the marshals gave the signal for

the onset. And loud the trumpets blared!

 

With a thunder of hoofs, the two walls of steel dashed swiftly inwards,

as though drawn by a gigantic magnet, and met in the centre of the lists

with a crash that could be heard for miles. Indeed, men passing to and

fro in the city streets and alleys heard the noise, and stopped to

question one another as to what it portended.

 

Five men--two English and three Gascons--bit the dust in that first

terrific onset, and the survivors, with few thoughts for the vanquished,

rode at one another fiercely, and with sword, lance, or axe, whichever

was most to their user’s liking, hewed and thrust at one another with

heartiest goodwill.

 

Edgar struck his opponent full on the shield with the point of his

lance, and, to his surprise, the impact lifted his opponent out of the

saddle and sent him crashing backwards to the ground. The shock must

have been great, for the unfortunate esquire lay just where he had

fallen, motionless, and apparently senseless. Fearing lest he might be

trampled upon in the mêlée, for the dust was rising and the combatants

could scarce see what was under their horses’ feet, Edgar slipped

quickly from his saddle, raised the fallen man, and bore him away out of

the press.

 

His temporary withdrawal made the two forces again equal, but this

equality was of very short duration, for one of the Gascons, who was

known as Guilbert "Strongarm", was an esquire of great bulk and

tremendous strength, and with two successive swings of his huge

battleaxe smote two of the English esquires so strongly that they

dropped half-fainting from their saddles.

 

Arthur Pomeroy, who, as captain, kept watch over what was happening to

others of his force while fighting his own battle, saw that his side was

in immediate peril of being vanquished offhand, and called loudly to

Edgar to resume the combat.

 

"Mount, Edgar! Mount and aid us!"

 

Though he had not seen the deadly strokes that had so altered the

complexion of affairs, Edgar guessed that things were going ill, and

hastily handed the stricken man to pages who hovered on the outskirts of

the fight. His horse had followed him, and, vaulting into the saddle,

he spurred once more into the conflict.

 

His re-entry was somewhat unexpected to the Gascons, and, still

possessing the lance that had already done such good service, he could

easily have unhorsed Guilbert from the rear. But disdaining to defeat a

foe so ingloriously, Edgar smartly tapped his lance upon his backplate

and waited. Guilbert and one of his comrades were busily hacking at

Arthur Pomeroy, who was fighting desperately and wheeling his steed

continuously in his efforts to keep the twain at bay. Astounded at the

buffet from the rear, Guilbert hastily turned and rode at Edgar, leaning

over in his saddle and swinging his great battleaxe in readiness for a

telling blow.

 

Dropping his lance, Edgar drew his sword and, as Guilbert came within

reach and aimed a blow at him, turned his horse and avoided the stroke

by a hairbreadth. The axe, meeting no resistance, swung down nearly to

the ground, drawing Guilbert downward with it. Simultaneously Edgar

turned in his saddle, and, reaching out, smote his adversary so shrewdly

on the wrist that he was compelled to drop his axe. Ere he could draw

his sword with his left hand--for his right was bruised and almost

useless--Edgar had twice gently smitten him upon headpiece and

breastplate, and, acknowledging defeat, Guilbert rode sullenly out of

the conflict.

 

Another man on either side had by this time fallen, and of the fourteen

men who had entered upon the mêlée only two English and two Gascons

remained.

 

Arthur Pomeroy was the second survivor of the English esquires, and in

spite of the exertions he had made, was still in good fighting trim.

Edgar had not received a scratch, and was virtually as fresh as when he

started. The two Gascons, on the other hand, were both bleeding, and

one appeared to be scarce fit to continue the combat.

 

"Come now, Edgar," cried Arthur exultingly, "one more charge and the

battle is ours. St. George for England! On! on!"

 

Side by side the two esquires rode down upon their adversaries, who,

wounded as they were, made ready to meet them right gallantly.

 

Suddenly the earl raised his hand.

 

"Desist, desist!" he cried.

 

At a signal from the marshals the trumpets again blared, and all knew

that the conflict was at an end.

 

Cheering and counter-cheering had been well-nigh continuous all the time

the stirring encounter had been proceeding, but at the signal for the

cessation of hostilities the burst of sound threatened to rend the

skies. For some minutes it continued unabated, and it was not until the

earl stood up as though about to speak that the volume of sound died

gradually away.

 

"Ye have all done right well," cried the earl warmly, "and I have no

wish that ye should push matters to extremities in your friendly

rivalries. Ye started equal and ye have finished equal; right nobly doth

the result speak for the valour of both wings of our army. I hail it as

the happiest augury for the campaign that lies before us."

 

Loud and hearty cheers greeted his words. His politic intervention had

relaxed the tension between the English and Gascon spectators, and, with

the honour of both well saved, they could cheer the well-fought fight

without bitterness and without stint.

 

"Let the victors approach," commanded the earl, and the four esquires

cantered to the stand and dismounted.

 

Pages assisted them to unhelm, and they were led forward by the marshal

up the steps to the platform where the earl stood. It was remarked by

all those near enough to observe that while the faces of the two Gascon

esquires were pale and blood-streaked, and Pomeroy’s was flushed with

exertion, Edgar’s showed no sign of the conflict whatever.

 

With a few words of hearty commendation, the earl presented each esquire

with a jewelled dagger and a purse of gold as tokens of the esteem in

which their victorious emergence from the conflict had caused them to be

held. Then they again mounted and, with heads still uncovered, made a

full circuit of the lists before withdrawing to their own enclosure.

Loud cheers and shouts of approval followed them, and Edgar, preoccupied

as he had again become at the uncertainty of his master’s fate now that

the combat was over, could not help feeling a thrill of pleasure at

having borne his part in upholding his country’s fair renown in the

domains of chivalry.

 

"Grammercy, my fair Edgar, thou didst almost lose us the fight," cried

Arthur Pomeroy, as the two filed across to their comrades’ side of the

greensward. "I thought our friend the ’strong-arm’ had me of a surety

when thou didst call him off just in time. ’Twas a near thing betwixt

victory and defeat."

 

"Not victory, Arthur. ’Tis an honourable draw."

 

"We held the winning position--that is enough for me. Come now, where

art bound? Let us first go and congratulate our comrades the Gascons on

the stout fight they provided us withal. Then, if they agree, perchance

we may retire to the esquires’ pavilion and celebrate the mêlée in a

manner fitting to the occasion."

 

"Right willingly will I join in thy congratulations of our friends the

enemy," cried Edgar; "but I must beg thee to excuse me from taking part

in any celebrations. I have not time, even had I the inclination, to

join thee there. I have matters on foot that claim attention without

delay, and I must be off the instant I have added my meed of praise to

thine."

 

In a few minutes the esquires of both bands were clustered together,

eagerly discussing the many exciting incidents of the encounter, and

Edgar was presently able to make good his exit without attracting special attention.