Edgar the Ready 5

Edgar the Ready 5

"Right willingly," cried Edgar, as he threw off his gear and followed

the speaker, a sturdy youth named Robert Duplessis, into the next room,

where a long table literally groaned beneath the weight of huge rounds

of beef and other fare and big jugs of home-brewed ale. Whilst the

supper was proceeding, Edgar took an early opportunity of inviting his

companion to tell him something of the castle and its inmates.

 

"Oh, as to the castle, thou art easily enlightened," cried Robert

readily enough. "’Twas built in John’s reign and, as thou hast seen, is

strong enough for anything. It lieth not far from St. Albans and but

twenty miles from London town. Sometimes we esquires take horse and ride

into the city on pleasure bent, and a right good time we enjoy. Thou

shouldst make one of our party the next time we ride thither."

 

"The exercises I saw just now, and the encounters with sword and

axe--are they all the teaching ye get when Sir John is abroad?"

 

"Nay, nay, we should be sorry esquires were that so. No, twice a week

Sir Percy Standish cometh to Wolsingham to give us instruction in the

use of our weapons. He doth it out of friendship for Sir John, and

lucky indeed are we to have a teacher so able. It is said, however, by

some of the pertest of our pages that his visits are less on Sir John’s

account than because of an attraction amongst his household, but I hold

that the report is baseless, seeing that Sir John’s elder daughter is

but seventeen."

 

"I saw three ladies on the outer walls as I rode up to the gates of the

castle," said Edgar. "Doubtless two were Sir John’s daughters? Who was

the third?"

 

"Oh, she is Sir John’s ward, Beatrice d’Alençon. She is only fifteen,

but is heiress to wide lands in Kent and wider lands in Guienne. She

will be greatly in request among the needy nobles when she cometh of age

an the prophets mistake not. Even Aymery and Roland dispute one

another’s claims to wear her gage, and that is why they are so zealous

to worst one another in fence. Asses!--when she careth naught for

either!"

 

Edgar smiled at the scorn with which Robert spoke. "At any rate," he

said, "neither you nor I are likely to dispute the damsel with the

twain. I hold such ideas to be rubbish, and far from befitting esquires

aspiring to the honour of knighthood. My aim at least is single, and no

maiden shall divide it."

 

"Ha! ha! Edgar," laughed Robert, "I should love to hear thee make that

declaration in the lady’s hearing."

 

Edgar did not care to join in the laugh, and merely shrugged his

shoulders and turned the conversation into other channels. He was

interested beyond all else in learning the details of his squirehood and

how best he might find opportunity to advance himself in it. The other

matters that apparently so interested Aymery and Roland had no charms

for him.

 

So earnest to succeed, it did not take Edgar long to learn his duties

and to make rapid headway with his knowledge of martial accomplishments.

The period of the next year or two was to him a time of continuous

development. Applying himself with ardour to learn all that appertained

to knightly prowess, in six months he had passed several of his comrades

in skill and dexterity with arms, and could compel even Aymery Montacute

to put out all his strength to worst him.

 

It was then that he gave effect to a resolve half formed in his first

talk with Aymery. His opinion at that time was that a knight or esquire

should practise clothed in full armour if he desired to show himself at

his best on the day of trial. As time went on and his knowledge

increased, this opinion deepened into a firm conviction. His comrades,

however, as Aymery had done at the first, laughed at the idea, and one

or two suggested slyly that perhaps he was becoming tired of the hard

knocks he was getting, now that he had worked his way into the front

rank and none thought of sparing him. But Edgar cared as little for

their ridicule and somewhat ungenerous suggestions as he really did for

their hard knocks, and presently appeared at their practices clad in as

full a suit of gear as he possessed.

 

The natural result of the change was that his comrades easily worsted

him, and from being almost a match for Aymery he passed down the line to

Philip Soames, who stood last in order of prowess with the sword.

Undismayed, however, by the fall, Edgar set himself to climb back to the

position he had lost, and to become once more the equal of Aymery

notwithstanding the armour which clogged and weighted his every

movement.

 

The labour was heavy and the task most irksome. Edgar was quite

determined about it, however, and slowly, bit by bit, won his way

upward. One of the greatest difficulties before him was that of getting

used to wearing a helmet with vizor closed, and learning to watch his

man as keenly and surely through its narrow slits as with the vizor

open. Accomplish the task he did, however, and had the satisfaction of

knowing that the fierce shock of battle or the exciting moments of the

tourney would find him on as familiar ground as in the contests of the

gymnasium or the tilts in the castle courtyard. As a result of the

heavy and constant exercise and the good fare, his frame expanded and

his muscles thickened, and from a sturdy lad of fifteen he grew to be a

stalwart youth, strong as most grown men and as hardy as one of his

Viking forefathers.

 

After a couple of years of the teaching of Sir Percy Standish, their

instructor, Edgar began to long for higher instruction, and for other

opponents than his four companions and an occasional visitor from a

neighbouring castle. He feared that when the time came for him to be

cast into the wider circle of a camp of war, his skill, though it seemed

considerable among his comrades at Wolsingham, might be dwarfed into

insignificance by the higher skill of esquires from other parts of the

country.

 

Casting about for some means of obtaining other and more varied

instruction, he made enquiries during one of the visits he and his

comrades sometimes paid to the city of London. He then ascertained that

there existed two or three schools of arms for the training, chiefly, of

the sons of merchants, but oftentimes used by knights and esquires

within the city bounds. One of these was pointed out to him as of

especial excellence, as it was presided over by a Picard, named Gaspard

Verillac, who was much famed for his skill with weapons.

 

The very next day Edgar rode into London alone and called upon Verillac.

 

"I wish to gain some skill in arms," he said, opening the conversation

with his usual directness.

 

Gaspard gave his youthful visitor a keen glance. "Thou hast already some

skill in arms, if I mistake not," he remarked quietly.

 

"But a little, I fear. I desire to learn much more."

 

"Come into yon chamber. Take sword and engage with me for a few

moments. I shall then know the more surely how much or how little thou

dost know."

 

Edgar obeyed, and, entering the chamber, eagerly scanned the walls,

which were covered with what seemed to be the weapons of all nations.

He then selected a sword of nearly the same length and weight as the

sharpened weapon he bore strapped to his side. The two fenced together

for a minute, and Edgar realized at once how widely his style differed

from that of some at least of the world outside his own circle.

Gaspard’s swordplay was more free and open than he had been used to, and

was perhaps rather more adapted for single combat than for pitched

encounters. The point was used almost as much as the edge of the blade.

 

"Thou art an esquire and no burgher’s son," said Gaspard as he put up

his sword.

 

Edgar assented.

 

"Thy skill is already considerable and giveth promise of vastly more. I

can make thee a knight of rare skill and address if thou carest to

become my pupil."

 

"I will gladly do so," cried Edgar, who was greatly impressed by his new

instructor and by the careless ease and power with which he fenced.

 

"Thou wilt not only practise with me but with others of my pupils; and

as they are of all ranks and hie from many countries, thou wilt learn to

be at home with whomsoever the tide of war may bring thee into conflict.

Come now, and I will take thee into the School of Arms."

 

When, some two hours later, Edgar rode back to Wolsingham Castle, he

felt well satisfied with the step he had taken. The prospect of adding

to his prowess with the sword under the guidance of Gaspard Verillac

seemed bright indeed.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER IV*

 

*The Winning of Peter*

 

 

Regularly twice a week Edgar rode into London and waged strenuous

warfare with Gaspard’s most promising pupils. So earnest was his

purpose and so able the tuition that he made rapid progress, and

presently, as he grew in strength and stature, Gaspard was hard put to

it to find pupils either ready or able to oppose him.

 

Indeed, Gaspard soon learned to turn the visits of the young esquire to

good account. Oftentimes knights, and even nobles, desirous of

obtaining a little private practice before setting out for the wars,

were attracted to the school by the reputation of its founder; and on

these occasions, instead of wielding the sword himself, Gaspard

preferred to call Edgar in and set his pupil to work, contenting himself

with administering instruction and reproof as the combat proceeded. To

being made use of in this manner Edgar raised not the smallest

objection. The heavier and the more desperate the encounter, the

greater, he felt, was his chance of onward progress.

 

It was some twelve months after his visit to Gaspard’s school that an

adventure befell which influenced considerably Edgar’s after career. It

had been his habit, when he had stayed unusually late, to take a short

cut to the open country through the poorer quarter at the eastward end

of the city. The denizens of its narrow alleys and filthy courts were

indeed a fierce and lawless crew, but Edgar, in the reliance born of his

hard-won prowess with the sword, cared not one straw whether or no his

way might lie through the haunts even of criminals and desperadoes.

Certain it is that they never ventured to molest him.

 

But one day, as he was cantering along an alley just wide enough to give

free passage to a mounted man, he heard, as he passed the entrance to a

narrow court, a sudden burst of piercing screams. Turning his steed and

clattering into the court, Edgar surprised a group of rough-looking men

crowding round a lad or young man who was being most cruelly beaten by

one of their number. The lad was thin and frail and half-starved

looking, and his assailant was a burly ruffian of the most brutal type.

The lad’s screams so worked upon Edgar that, without a moment’s

hesitation, he urged his horse right amongst the group of men, and, by

causing it to kick and plunge violently, scattered them in all

directions. The lad’s tormentor he treated to a heavy blow with the

flat of his sword, just as he was disappearing, scowling horribly,

through an open doorway close by.

 

Dismounting, Edgar hastily assisted the lad to rise, and then for the

first time saw that he was a cripple. One of his legs was apparently

somewhat shorter than the other, and the limb itself was partially

withered.

 

"Come, lad, let me take thee to thy home," said Edgar gently. "These

brutes shall molest thee no more."

 

"Thank you, sir," gasped the boy gratefully, as he tried to struggle to

his feet. "But I have no home save this court. I fear, too, that I cannot stand."