Edgar the Ready 3

Edgar the Ready 3

"What of that, lad? Red of Ordish and his band had nae horses."

 

"None that we could see. But in some of the tales I have heard both Red

and his band were mounted. Hearken now!"

 

Dim and distant, but unmistakable, sounded the thud of horses’ hoofs.

 

"Quick, Matthew, we must leave the road and hide. Our horse, carrying a

double burden, must soon be overtaken. Dismount and lead thy steed in

amongst those rocks and bushes and, if thou canst, compel it to lie

down."

 

Without demur Matthew obeyed his young charge’s orders, possibly because

he could think of no better line of action. In a minute or two horse

and riders were well hidden behind a tangle of rocks and bushes a dozen

yards from the edge of the roadway. The clatter of horses’ hoofs was

now very close, and in a few moments a body of wild-looking horsemen

burst into view round a turn of the road.

 

"’Tis Red," muttered the lad at his first glimpse of the foremost man,

as he shrank back yet more closely under cover.

 

The horsemen clattered noisily by and vanished as quickly as they had

come. For the time, at any rate, the fugitives were safe.

 

"What now, lad?" grumbled Matthew, as he began to realize their sorry

plight. "We cannot take to the road again, I trow."

 

"Nay; we must, I fear, clamber on as best we can across these rocks.

See yon hill? The country there is clearer, so mayhap if we struggle on

a little we shall find it open out before us."

 

For an hour the soldier and his companion scrambled along among the

rocks, leading the horse between them. Then the way began to get easier

until, at the end of some hours, they found themselves in fairly open

country. The travelling had been very exhausting, and, well pleased to

be quit of it, they mounted again and cantered gaily off until they

reached cultivated land, and could see in the distance the lights of a

dwelling. On a closer inspection this proved to be a large and

straggling farmhouse.

 

"Darkness falls," quoth Matthew; "I think we will rest the night here if

the good man is not unwilling."

 

Edgar gladly consented, and in a minute or two they were knocking at the

farmhouse door. After a considerable delay and some parleying the door

was opened, and they were conducted into the farmer’s kitchen. Here

they were served with plenty of rough but wholesome food, and were soon

doing full justice to the viands. Under the influence of the good

cheer, and more especially of the good man’s home-brewed ale, Matthew

waxed communicative, and related to the farmer with great gusto the

incidents of their encounter with and escape from the redoubtable Red of

Ordish.

 

The recital seemed to disturb the farmer greatly. He grew pale and

nervous, and presently left the room, muttering that if robbers were

about it would be well for him to see that his barns and stables were

well secured. The action seemed so natural an one that neither Edgar

nor Matthew took any notice, although the man had not returned when, an

hour or two later, his wife hinted that it was time to retire for the

night. Readily enough they agreed, and the woman led them up a flight

of crazy stairs to a low room lighted by a single small curtain-screened

window which peeped out of the thickness of the thatch. The room

contained a rough bed and plenty of skin rugs, and in a very few minutes

the two wayfarers had flung themselves down and had fallen into a sound

sleep.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER II*

 

*An Ordeal of the Night*

 

 

It must have been well after midnight when Edgar awoke. What had

awakened him he knew not, but he felt somehow a sense of uneasiness for

which he vainly tried to account. All was as still as death within the

house, save only for the regular breathing of his companion, who lay

close by his side.

 

For some moments Edgar lay without a movement, listening intently and

wondering what it could be that made him feel so uneasy and even--he

could not disguise it from himself--even fearful. He could hear

absolutely nothing, but yet he felt a conviction steal over him that

Matthew and he were not alone in the room. Who would dare to enter

their room so stealthily at dead of night? And what might be their

purpose?

 

Softly Edgar pressed his companion in the side. He stirred ever so

slightly, and Edgar pressed again as meaningly as he could. He felt the

soldier start and stiffen himself as though on the alert.

 

Waiting for no more, Edgar, who was light of touch and supple as an eel,

stole softly from the bed and made for the corner of the room away from

the window. He dreaded unspeakably that he might come into contact with

something--he knew not what--on the way; but he reached his coign of

vantage without mishap. Then he waited motionless for events to

develop. Though he still heard no sound, he felt even more convinced

than before that the room was occupied by other than themselves--and, by

the strange feeling of fear that he could not thrust away from himself,

thoroughly as he despised it, occupied by something grim and terrible.

 

Presently he heard a slight rustling, as though Matthew were leaving his

bed, and a moment later the curtain was jerked back, admitting into the

room a stream of moonlight.

 

Simultaneously with the pulling of the curtain three figures became

visible to Edgar between him and the light. The upright figure nearest

to the window was Matthew, he had no doubt, but the two other figures

crouching low upon the floor he could not recognize, though the glint of

steel he caught from one showed that their presence boded ill indeed.

 

Silently, with a bound fierce as a tiger’s, one of the men sprang upon

Matthew. With a movement as quick the man-at-arms avoided the blow

aimed at him and closed with his assailant. Simultaneously the other

man stood up and swung a club up into the air and down behind his back

as he prepared to strike down Matthew while he grappled with his foe.

 

With the speed of an arrow Edgar sprang forward. Seizing the club he

gave it a quick, wrenching pull and tore it from the man’s grasp. Then

as quickly he swung it heavily down upon the assassin’s head. With a

groan the man sank limply to the floor.

 

Turning to the other combatants, Edgar saw that Matthew was holding his

assailant’s right hand with his left, and had wrenched his own hand free

and grasped his dagger. There was a flash as the moonlight gleamed upon

the bright steel, then the stroke fell heavily upon the ruffian’s side.

But though the blade pierced his clothing it snapped off short against

his skin!

 

"_Bewitched! Bewitched!_" shrieked Matthew in superstitious terror, as

he let go his hold and fell upon his knees. Babbling incoherently and

crossing himself convulsively, he seemed oblivious of his fearful

danger. Fortunately the suddenness with which he had let go his hold

sent the ruffian staggering back into a corner, but like a wild cat he

was back again, and in another moment the knife must have been plunged

into Matthew’s body had not Edgar screamed piercingly as he dashed

forward.

 

"_Shirt of mail_, Matthew, _shirt of mail!_"

 

Matthew heard and understood his meaning just in time. Plunging full

length upon the floor, he avoided the murderous stroke, and the man, in

the darkness, pitched over him into the wall. Ere he had recovered from

the shock Edgar had sprung clean upon his back.

 

Jabbing behind him with his knife the assassin tried to dislodge the

lad, but although he received two or three flesh wounds, Edgar clung on

tenaciously, and, by impeding the man’s arm with one hand and gripping

him by the throat with the other, did his best to hinder him, while he

called repeatedly upon Matthew to renew the struggle.

 

It was some moments before Matthew could respond. He was still unnerved

by the grim midnight attack and what he had for the moment taken to be

the supernatural character of his assailant. Edgar’s warning cry had

enabled him to shake off some of his paralysis, but precious moments had

slipped away before he was himself again. At last Edgar’s cries aroused

him, and he rushed in and closed with the man, who was endeavouring with

the utmost desperation to rid himself of the burden upon his back.

Until then the man had fought in grim silence, but now he snarled and

champed like a wild beast. In one of his twists and turns he staggered

close to the little window, and for a moment the moonlight played upon

his head. Though Edgar, from his position, could not see his face, one

glimpse of the tangled mass of hair was sufficient. It was red.

 

The ruffian fought with extraordinary fierceness and power. Once

Matthew succeeded in possessing himself of his knife, but almost

immediately lost it, and it was not until the man was almost strangled

that his resistance was overcome.

 

"Get me something wherewith to secure him, Edgar," gasped Matthew.

"Strips of clothing--anything, lad."

 

Edgar sprang to the bed and fumbled among the rugs and skins for

something that he could tear into strips. As he did so his ear caught a

sound outside the door that could not be mistaken.

 

"Quick, Matthew--to the window--flee!" he cried, in an undertone that

thrilled with desperate urgency. "The stairs creak beneath the tread of

a dozen stealthy feet. ’Tis Red’s band--away, away, or we are lost!"

 

At a single bound Matthew sprang halfway through the window. Another

moment and he had dropped to the ground.

 

In his fumbles at the bedclothes Edgar’s hand had come into contact with

his own or Matthew’s sword. The slight indefinable sound or feeling of

pressure upon the door attracted his attention, and, like a streak, he

drew the sword from its sheath. Then, with a single thrust, he drove it

several inches through the centre of the door.

 

There was a screech, and the pressure instantly ceased. Simultaneously

the silent approach changed into a loud and angry clamour, and a rush

was made at the door, and it was kicked violently open.

 

But Edgar was already halfway to the window. Flinging his naked sword

through in advance, he sprang lightly up and through, and dropped safely

down upon the ground beneath.

 

Matthew was awaiting him and had already snatched up the sword, and the

two, with a single thought, rushed madly round to the front of the

farmhouse. Their one aim was to get their horse from the stable before

the robbers were upon them.

 

As he rounded the side of the house, Edgar caught a glimpse of something

moving in the shadow of some trees a dozen paces away. He looked

again--they were horses!--and with a whoop he called to Matthew and fled

to them. The horses were half-wild, and at the sudden approach reared and kicked furiously.