Edgar the Ready 2

Edgar the Ready 2

Ignoring the boy, the leader of the robbers and one or two of his men

made a mad rush for the purse. Red was first, and snatched it eagerly

up; tore it open--and saw that it was empty! With a snarl like a wild

beast, he sprang after the fugitive, shouting madly with inarticulate

rage.

 

Abandoning all disguise, the lad now ran with all his speed after the

soldier, who had profited by the preoccupation of the robbers and had

made his way safely past them.

 

"On, Matthew, on!" he cried breathlessly as he sprang into the saddle

behind him, and with a shout of angry defiance, Matthew put spurs to his

horse and galloped furiously away.

 

The convulsed face and savage cries of Red of Ordish, and the tumultuous

shouts of his men as they pursued madly after, flinging stones, knives,

and clubs in despairing endeavour to injure the youth who had so neatly

tricked them, receded gradually into the distance until a turn of the

road shut them altogether out of sight and hearing.

 

"Why did I listen to thee, lad?" cried Matthew presently in a tone of

resentment and vexation. "Why did I not ride at them and try to cut a

way through? Why didst press me to yield up my purse without a fight?

Hast so soon forgotten that thou art destined to become an esquire and

an aspirant to knighthood? ’Tis a bad start to a warrior’s career to

counsel giving way without a fight to the first coward cut-throat we

meet. Coward that I was to listen----"

 

"Stay, Matthew," interposed the lad; "run not on so, but examine this

wallet. Perchance the fledgeling esquire is not quite so base as thou

thinkest."

 

"What?" cried Matthew, taking the wallet and thrusting in his hand.

"Did ye--why, yes, ’tis all here--truly thou art quick and bold. ’Twas

well done, and I none the wiser. Thou art indeed Sir Richard Wintour’s

cub, and I can say nae better."

 

"There was little enough in it, Matthew," returned the lad. "I hope

that we may have many such adventures to while away the long journey to

my new home. They will keep our wits from getting rusty."

 

"They will indeed, lad, and I hope that Matthew the man-at-arms may show

to better advantage at our next encounter. Now I will continue the

story of our struggle at Sluys which the robbers interrupted in so ugly

a fashion. We English, then, had overcome all resistance in the first

line of the French ships and were attacking the next, when the adventure

befell that touches thee so closely. The ships commanded by Sir John

Chartris had again closed in and grappled, and once more we were hard at

work hacking and thrusting upon the enemy’s decks. Sir John had gained

a footing upon the poop of the ship he had boarded, and was hewing away

with right good will when, of a sudden, a gigantic Genoese dropped down

upon his shoulders from the rigging. Sir John was borne to the deck,

and would have been rapidly dispatched there had not thy father, Sir

Richard Wintour, called upon one or two of us near by and hurried to his

rescue. Our attack diverted the attention of those surrounding Sir

John, and he was able to struggle to his feet.

 

"The Genoese still clung to his back, however, and Sir John was unable

to use his sword. To our horror, after a few moments’ tottering upon

the edge, both men, still clinging desperately to one another, pitched

headlong over the side of the ship down into the sea in the space

betwixt the prows of the grinding ships. Seeing what was coming, and

knowing only too well that Sir John, clad in full armour, would sink

like a stone, thy father snatched at a rope, and without a moment’s

hesitation sprang after him. So instant was he that he did not even

stay to see that the other end of the rope was secured, and he must have

left the ship before ever Sir John had touched the water. ’Twas a rash

act, a gallant act, and it all but failed, for the end of the rope was

free, and was just disappearing over the side when I pounced upon it.

 

"The strain upon it was so heavy that I almost followed. Thomelin the

archer, however, also seized hold of the rope, and we two pulled and

tugged. In a moment or two the strain eased somewhat, and we guessed

that the big Genoese had been compelled to leave go. Then we began to

draw in hand over hand until two heads appeared above the surface. They

belonged to Sir John and thy father.

 

"Now came the heartrending part of the whole affair. A slight swell was

gently heaving, and ever and anon the ships ground and clashed together.

Knowing this, and fearing that we might not draw up the knights before

one or other of the ships heaved inwards irresistibly, we pulled with

all our might and shouted aloud for others to come to our aid. But the

rush of fighting men had passed onwards, and the noise was so prodigious

that we were unheard or unheeded. So we bent to the work, and soon had

Sir John, who was uppermost, on a level with the decks. We had pulled

him safe aboard, and were about to draw up Sir Richard, when--lad, it

makes me sick to think of it--one of our own ships, falling on the

swell, moved inwards and caught him by the legs against the ship on

which we stood. He gave a gasp and let go his hold, but we seized him,

and, the swell passing onwards, drew him aboard.

 

"One glance was sufficient to tell us that his hours were numbered.

Notwithstanding his armour, his legs and the lower part of his body were

badly crushed. He was still conscious, however, and we laid him on the

deck of the enemy’s ship, now all but won, and Sir John knelt over him.

 

"’Goodbye, Sir John!’ he said faintly. ’I am gone. Leave me and renew

the fight.’

 

"’Nay, Richard, I cannot leave thee thus,’ cried Sir John, weeping.

’Dear comrade, thou hast sacrificed thy life for mine. I will stay and

do what little I still may towards that debt. The battle is won without

another stroke from me.’

 

"’I rejoice that all goes well. If thou wilt do aught for me, look to

my boy Edgar. His mother died a year agone, and he is alone save for

me. Place him with thy esquires, if I ask not too much.’

 

"’Richard, it is done. Right gladly will I.’

 

"’He will be landless, like his father, as thou know’st, and he must

carve his way with his sword. Let him know this. Spoil him not. I

think he will do well, though his mother has had his upbringing and not

I.’

 

"’If he is half as gallant as his father he will need little help from

me,’ responded Sir John. ’Is there naught else I can do? Here is water

Matthew hath brought.’

 

"Sir Richard revived a little when he had drunk, but very soon sank into

a stupor from which he never regained consciousness. He seemed quite

easy in his mind concerning thee, after Sir John had told him he would

send me down into Devon to fetch thee as soon as an opportunity offered.

He beckoned me to him and sent thee his dear love, and bade me conjure

thee to strive thy hardest to be a true knight, brave in battle and

chivalrous towards the weak and helpless. More he said, though his

voice grew so faint at last that I could not catch all his words; but he

meant thee to give all thy mind to the work of thy squirehood, to learn

right well how to bear thyself knightly, and how to live a godly life.

Thy father, lad, thou mayest well be proud of."

 

"I know, Matthew," said Edgar in a low voice. "And I know, too, that if

earnest striving of mine can compass it, his memory will not be

disgraced by me. It shall be my aim to live as nobly and to die as

gallantly."

 

"Ye say well, lad. I hope thou wilt be as good as thy word. Now I will

finish the story.

 

"Very soon we had broken through the second line of the French ships,

and as at that moment more ships arrived under Sir Robert Morley, a

great panic fell upon the third line, and many of their men threw

themselves into the sea and there perished miserably. The fourth line,

however, still remained unbroken, and fought us right gallantly until

nightfall, when those that were still able to set sail made good their

escape.

 

"Our losses were trifling; the losses of the French were tremendous. We

had only two ships destroyed, while out of all the mighty French fleet

but a few stragglers escaped. Their loss in men, too, they say, was no

less than thirty thousand slain. ’Twill be years and years, lad, I

warrant thee, before the French will again dare to oppose us on the

ocean. We are now masters of the sea, and our ships can come and go as

they please. Hurrah for our martial King Edward!"

 

"Hurrah, indeed!" cried Edgar, catching something of his enthusiasm.

"But how came our men to gain so great a victory over the French? Did

they not fight well?"

 

"Aye, they fought well enough, but they were outgeneralled. They had

two leaders while we had one. And more--though I am a man-at-arms, and

think most of my sort, yet can I give a meed of praise where ’tis

due--’twas our archers did much to win the day. Aye, our bowmen gave

the French a rude awakening--one, too, that will be repeated as roughly

yet many a day. Our men shot so hard and fast that the air was streaked

with shafts, and Frenchmen and Genoese fell dead on every hand. Even

the knights were hard put to it to face so pitiless a hail. I mind me

old Thomelin of Pontefract, one of the most famous of our marksmen, said

to me as we passed a ship in the first line, where the battle still

raged: ’See yon knight in golden armour, Matthew?’

 

"’Aye,’ said I.

 

"’Watch him well.’

 

"He drew his bow to the feather and held it motionless for a moment or

two. The knight was opposing a party of English who were pouring along

the deck of his ship. He swung his axe back and up, and Thomelin’s bow

twanged. The knight’s nearest armpit sprouted feathers, his axe fell

with a clang, and he rattled down after it. ’Twas thus that our archers

taught even knights in full armour to fear them."

 

"But are not crossbowmen equally to be feared?" cried Edgar. "I have

heard that their heavy bolts can crash through the armour itself."

 

"Mayhap; but when they have English bowmen to fight against they have

little chance to show their powers. Ere ever they can loose a bolt a

cloth-yard shaft hath laid them low. Our archers laugh at

crossbowmen--and with good reason."

 

"What befell after the battle, Matthew?"

 

"We landed, and Edward led us to the city of Tournay. He drew his

allies to his standard, and it was with a hundred thousand men that he

commenced the siege. All goeth well so far, but Sir John sent me after

thee before we had long encamped before its walls. And here I am,

Master Edgar."

 

"Aye, good Matthew," replied Edgar, who appeared to be slightly ill at

ease, and had turned in his saddle two or three times during the latter

part of the soldier’s narrative. "Now, wilt thou rein in thy steed for

a moment so that we may listen? Several times I have fancied I heard the sound of horses’ hoofs dully in the distance."