Edgar the Ready 4

Edgar the Ready 4

There was no time to sooth and pacify the beasts, for already the shouts

from behind showed that the pursuit had begun, so Edgar sprang

recklessly at the nearest horse, flung his leg over its back, and

grasped it by the mane. Then with his dagger he cut the rope that

secured it. The horse reared madly and backed in amongst its fellows,

but at every opportunity Edgar cut and slashed with his dagger at the

ropes that fastened the other horses to the trees. Matthew had also

succeeded in mounting, and seconded his efforts until all were freed.

Then with a yell that sent the frightened troop clattering away into the

darkness, Edgar and Matthew dug their heels into their horses’ sides and

galloped headlong after them. In a confused clump, horsemen and

riderless horses careered over pasture and farmland until the farmhouse

and the shouting robbers had been left far behind.

 

Gradually Edgar gained some sort of control over his wild mount, which

had, until then, tasked all his energies to keep it from flinging him

from off its back. Then he guided it to Matthew’s side.

 

"We have covered miles, Matthew, and are safe."

 

"Nay, let us ride on until our steeds are exhausted. Mine is still as

much master as I."

 

"Then let us ride together, and keep one of yon frightened animals in

sight. If I can, I am going to capture a spare steed. ’Twill do to

barter and replace the things we left behind in the robbers’ hands."

 

For a couple of hours longer they rode onward. Then their horses of

themselves dropped into a walk and at last stopped altogether. Matthew

and Edgar had kept close to two of the riderless horses, and Edgar

promptly slipped from his seat and approached them. They were too

dead-beat to resist, and he was able to lead them into a thick covert

close at hand. Here, after some trouble, a light fencing of branches

hacked from the trees was built around them, and Matthew and Edgar could

begin to think of rest. They were almost as dead-beat as the horses,

and, without troubling to make themselves any sort of couch, flung

themselves down amongst the bushes and slept the sleep of utter

exhaustion.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER III*

 

*The Castle of Wolsingham*

 

 

Very soon after dawn Matthew and Edgar were astir again. Both felt the

strain of their exertions during the preceding day and night, but

neither felt that they were safe in remaining where they were. They had

left behind nearly all their belongings, but in their stead they had

four horses which, they hoped, would more than counterbalance the losses

they had sustained.

 

Tearing up part of his clothing into strips, and utilizing their belts,

Matthew made shift to secure the two spare horses, and, mounting again,

they rode on. For some time they purposely kept away from the high

roads, not knowing how far the power of Red and his band might extend.

But when they believed that they were too far from his haunts for there

to be anything more to fear, they took to the highway again, and made

more rapid progress. The spare horses were sold later in the day

without difficulty, and provided a goodly sum from which they were able

to purchase fresh cloaks and weapons, and enough being left to help them

on their way.

 

The journey was full of incidents, though none was so exciting as their

encounter with the dreaded Red and his band of outlaws. In due course

they arrived at Wolsingham, and Matthew resigned his charge into the

hands of Geoffrey Fletcher, the Lieutenant of the Castle, in the absence

of its master, Sir John Chartris. Geoffrey really ranked as an esquire,

but he was a man of middle age who had failed through lack of influence

and skill with the sword to obtain the honour of knighthood. He

possessed little ambition, however, and was well content with his

position in command of the retainers of the castle.

 

After a few enquiries concerning the journey thither, and a sympathetic

and kindly reference to his recent bereavement, Geoffrey suggested a

visit to Edgar’s fellow esquires.

 

"They have heard that thou wert on the way to join us, and are ready

indeed to see thee. The story of thy father’s gallant sacrifice has

disposed them and all of us greatly in thy favour. From the little

Matthew hath told me of the adventures of thy journey, it seemeth that

our expectations are not likely to be disappointed."

 

"Ye are all most kind to me," said Edgar gratefully. "I have already

promised in my heart to do all in my power to serve Sir John for the

memory of my father’s name."

 

"Ye say well. Come now and I will make thee known to thy comrades.

They are four--Philip Soames, Robert Duplessis, Aymery Montacute, and

Roland Mortimer. They are all about thine age, for the eldest esquire

hath followed his master to the wars. Doubtless thou wilt find them

more to thy liking than they are to mine, for they are high-spirited

youths, and accustomed to be more than a little reckless in their

pranks. But such, I fear, is too often the wont of young men of noble

birth and wide estates."

 

Shaking his head with the air of a man who had suffered much at the

hands of the said esquires, Geoffrey Fletcher opened a door and ushered

Edgar into a room where the four esquires and some few pages were

practising feats of skill and strength, or hacking at one another with

blunted swords.

 

The scene was a really spirited one, and Edgar felt a thrill of

enthusiasm as he realized fully that he was now at last to begin in

earnest to learn the trade of arms and the usages of chivalry.

 

"Ha! Geoffrey, doubtless this young springald is our new comrade, Edgar

Wintour?" cried Aymery Montacute, a slim, active-looking youth a little

older than Edgar. "Come, we are right glad to see him, and right happy

to welcome him in our midst."

 

Edgar bowed his thanks.

 

"He looketh keen," went on Aymery, speaking more to Geoffrey than to

Edgar; "he looketh keen, and if I can cheer him on with a few friendly

strokes with sword and buckler, let him don some gear and we will set to

without more ado. At last, Geoffrey, I have succeeded in worsting

Roland, and I feel so elated I could fight the world."

 

"But nay, Aymery, scarcely would ye wish to show off thy prowess so soon

upon your new comrade? How much can he know of the sword?"

 

"Dissuade him not, Geoffrey," interposed Edgar hastily. "He meaneth not

to be unfriendly, I am sure, and I would gladly receive a lesson at his

hands. Come, comrade Aymery, teach me also how to beat friend Roland."

 

There was a general laugh at the hit at Roland Mortimer; and that

worthy, after a momentary frown, joined in the laugh, for Edgar’s smile

and tone were so frank and pleasant that anger was impossible.

 

"Don these things and let us set to work," cried Aymery; and without the

loss of a moment, Edgar drew on the leather jerkin and steel headpiece

and snatched a sword and buckler from the wall. With a slight shrug of

his shoulders and a smile of some amusement, Geoffrey turned on his heel

and left the room. Though his charge was now left entirely to the

tender mercies of his new comrades, he knew that there was no need to be

anxious on his behalf, for their welcome, though rough, was not one whit

the less sincere.

 

The instant Edgar threw out his sword with a gesture of readiness,

Aymery attacked with a bound like a young deer’s. So swift was his

attack that, before Edgar quite knew where he was, his head was singing

from a hearty blow which fell full upon his steel headpiece. Warming to

the work, he did his best to make a smart return, and to pay Aymery back

with something to spare. The teaching he had received, however, was in

no way equal to that given to the esquires at Wolsingham Castle, and in

a few moments Aymery had demonstrated this so clearly that the other’s

body was smarting in a half-dozen places at once.

 

Good-naturedly Aymery soon proposed a halt, and explained to Edgar

wherein he had failed, and what were the chief faults of his style of

defence.

 

"Ye look quick and active, but make not enough use of your powers,

friend Wintour. See how I fought--never still, constantly advancing or

retreating. Ye should do the same."

 

"I see that would be best for a light-armed contest such as this,"

replied Edgar; "but seeing that knights fight in full armour in battle,

with little room or power to advance or retreat, would it not be best

for us to learn to stand more to our ground likewise?"

 

"There is some shrewdness in thy point," responded Aymery with a nod,

"but pitched battles are rare, whilst there are many occasions on which

a knight fights when not armed cap-à-pie. I am perhaps too prone to

rely upon my activity; mayhap it were better if I sometimes fought knee

to knee."

 

"Do you never practise in full armour?" asked Edgar. "I have never had

the opportunity, but again it seemeth to me that as we enter a battle or

the lists in full armour, we should make it our chiefest aim to become

quite accustomed to its weight and hindrance, and to watching our foes

through our vizor-slits. Why leave all that to the day of battle, as so

many seem to do?"

 

"Ah! I cannot agree with thee there. Full armour is so irksome that we

should never learn the finer strokes of fence. When thou hast felt the

weight of it thou wilt the better understand."

 

Edgar felt unconvinced, but did not care to go on with the discussion,

as his knowledge of the subject was so slight that he felt far from sure

of his ground. So he turned aside and watched the efforts of some of

his other comrades as they engaged in gymnastic exercises or practised

with various weapons. It was a sight of absorbing interest to him, and

the call to supper when it came found him still reluctant to quit the

scene.

 

"Come, Edgar, put off thy headpiece and jerkin and join us at the board.

I warrant thou wilt pronounce the cheer both good and plentiful, for Sir

John hath never stinted us of our victuals. Wilt accompany me?"