Edgar the Ready 6

Edgar the Ready 6

"Tell me which is thy house. I will carry thee and lay thee on thy

bed."

 

"This is where I live when he will let me," said the lad, indicating the

house into which his assailant had disappeared. "But do not tarry here,

sir, or thou wilt be attacked. Quick, I hear them calling to one

another, and if thou wouldst escape alive, thou must go at once."

 

"Nay, lad, I cannot leave thee thus. After the rough shaking I have

given them I fear the ruffians will illtreat thee worse than before.

Come, I will mount and carry thee out of this den before me."

 

Springing into the saddle, Edgar stooped and lifted the lad, placing him

in the saddle before him. Then, sword in hand, he rode down the court

straight to the entrance, where he could see men gathering armed with

knives, clubs, and stones. A volley of missiles sang through the air as

he approached, and, bending before the storm, Edgar charged full into

the enemy. The men scattered as he bore down upon them, some dodging

into doorways and others throwing themselves down flat against the

walls. But as he passed, knives darted out from this side and that, and

it was only with the greatest difficulty that Edgar could avoid them.

Emerging into the alley he found it thick with men hurrying to the

scene. The whole district seemed to have been aroused, and the instant

he appeared a howl of execration went up, followed almost instantly by

another and heavier volley of stones.

 

Setting spurs to his horse, Edgar again darted full at the crowd. The

men were now too numerous to avoid him, and a dozen were flung headlong

to the ground, whilst several more fell back with heads ringing from

blows given sharply with the flat of the sword. Though bleeding from

several cuts inflicted by the stones, Edgar had almost won through to

safety when suddenly, just as he was striking at a man who had tried to

hamstring his horse on his right, a ruffian on his left, more determined

than his fellows, sprang close up and buried a dagger in the animal’s

side. The poor beast gave a convulsive spring and then sank to the

ground where it lay writhing in agony. As the horse fell beneath him,

Edgar took the cripple lad in his arms. It needed but a glance to tell

him that his horse was doomed, and his ears told him as surely that his

own life was in equal peril did he not make good his escape without an

instant’s loss of time.

 

A closed door was by him, and he kicked it open with one foot.

Springing in, he closed it after him. The sound of the shrieking horde

outside was momentarily deadened, but, as he rushed along the passage to

the back of the house, the door flew violently open again, and a wave of

sound with a note so fierce and cruel swept in that most men, even in

those martial days, would have been completely unnerved.

 

A door led from the passage into a yard at the back of the house, and

through this Edgar sped with his burden as rapidly as he could. The

yard was separated from the next by a low wall, and over this he

pressed, making for the door at the back of the house opposite to him.

This door, however, was fast, and was too strongly made to be readily

battered down; so without a moment’s hesitation Edgar sprang at the

single-shuttered window on the ground floor. Placing the cripple lad

down for a moment, he seized a corner of the shutter with both hands,

and, exerting all his strength, tore it bodily away. Flinging it to the

ground with a clatter, he again lifted the cripple lad, placed him on

the sill, and leaped up after him. Not until then did he pause to glance

inside the room, but now he saw that it contained four men, who had

evidently been drinking and playing at cards when disturbed by the

sudden wrenching of the shutter from off its hinges.

 

They were rough-looking men, and stared fiercely, albeit with some

alarm, at the two figures perched upon the window sill.

 

"Who are ye?" challenged one in a rough and threatening tone.

"Speak--what want ye?"

 

Edgar would have retreated had there been time, but already some of his

pursuers were dropping over the low wall behind, shouting in fierce

exultation as they saw their prey almost within their grasp. In another

moment or two he would have to defend himself in the rear, whilst his

front was threatened by these four men, who looked as ripe for mischief

as any of the ruffians closing in behind. Desperate measures alone could

save him.

 

Whispering to the cripple to cling to his back and so free both arms,

Edgar flung his legs over the sill, sprang into the room, and dashed for

the door. Two of the men drew their knives and made as though to stop

him, but Edgar, who still carried his sword naked in his hand, instantly

attacked them. Two rapid thrusts from his practised hand and the men

fell back, shrieking and snarling, leaving him free to pass unmolested

through the door and down a passage into another alley on the farther

side.

 

Edgar’s exertions in running and climbing, burdened by the cripple lad,

had been so great that he felt he must at once find a refuge, even if

only a temporary one, or resign himself to selling his life as dearly as

he could. Eagerly he glanced up and down the alley. At one end was a

blank wall, and at the other were a number of men, who raised a shout

the instant they caught sight of him. In front were what appeared to be

the backs of a number of solidly-built warehouses, and these, Edgar

felt, could and must provide his only refuge.

 

The lowest windows were too high to be reached, and the doors were

unusually strong, doubtless owing to the poverty of the neighbourhood.

There was, however, no choice open, so Edgar again put the lad down and

turned to the nearest door.

 

Throughout the flight the cripple lad had not spoken once, but now,

noticing perhaps how his rescuer panted, and how their escape seemed as

far off as ever, he found his tongue.

 

"Leave me behind, sir. Thou canst not escape burdened with me. Seek

thine own safety. What need for both to perish?"

 

"I cannot leave thee, lad, once I have taken the task upon me. Fear

not; while I still possess a sword I will never lose hope."

 

As he spoke Edgar drove the blade of his sword through the top panel of

the door, tore it out, and again and again drove it back. Then with the

hilt he hammered the splintered woodwork inwards with quick sharp blows

until a hole gaped the full length and breadth of the panel.

 

"Now, lad, thine escape at least is assured. Come; I am going to pass

thee through this hole." Lifting the lad, Edgar thrust him through the

cavity and lowered him gently down. And not one whit too soon, for the

advance guard of the men from the end of the alley and those who had

followed him through the houses was now upon the scene. Making a sudden

rush at the nearest of them, Edgar wounded two and momentarily drove the

rest headlong back. Then retreating as suddenly as he had advanced, he

sprang to the broken door and swung himself quickly through the gap.

 

Inside he found himself in a dark passage, between stacks of goods piled

to the ceiling. Followed by the cripple, who had awaited his coming,

and who could now limp slowly along, he traversed the passage and

mounted some steps to what appeared to be the inhabited part of the

building. In a minute or two he came to the door of a room, inside

which he could hear the sound of laughter and the clink of cups and

platters. Here at least seemed hope of succour.

 

It was indeed high time, for the noise of axes and hammers pounding at

the outer door and the yells of the savage mob outside reverberated

threateningly along the passage. In a minute or two the remnants of the

door must give way and allow them free ingress. Already some of the

cut-throats might have ventured singly through the gap and be stealing

along in the darkness.

 

Opening the door without ceremony, Edgar pressed eagerly in, followed by

the lad. The sight which met them, fresh from the hurly-burly, seemed

strange in its dissimilarity, and almost made them momentarily doubt the

reality of what they had gone through. The room was comfortably

furnished and brightly lit, and at a large table in its centre sat a

merchant, his wife, and several daughters at supper. All rose to their

feet, as with a single impulse, as Edgar, panting and blood-streaked,

and with a naked and reddened sword in his hand, strode impetuously in.

 

"Sirrah, what is this?" cried the merchant hastily. "What dost thou in

my dwelling?"

 

"To seek aid. We are fugitives," panted Edgar.

 

"From the law? Come not to me for succour, but begone!"

 

"Nay, we flee from bands of thieves and cut-throats. Even now they are

doubtless pressing in at thy broken door. Summon aid, for our need is

sore."

 

"What--what is it thou art saying? Bands of cut-throats entering my

house! Thou hast led them upon us, and we are ruined. What defence

have I against such ruffians?"

 

Edgar leaned upon his sword and panted. His exertions had been

tremendous, but a few moments’ breathing space would, he knew, do much

to restore him.

 

"They are stealing along the passage, sir. I hear them," whispered the

cripple. "They are fierce and stubborn when once they are roused, and

fear the Justice and his men but little. I know them well."

 

"Come, sir," said Edgar, lifting himself upright. "The cut-throats are

even now stealing along yon passage, and----"

 

Shrill cries of alarm from the merchant’s wife and daughters interrupted

him, and turning hastily round, Edgar saw that two or three

savage-looking figures were even now actually at the door. The merchant

snatched a knife from the table, and, though pale and trembling, moved

towards the door, as though prepared to defend his womenfolk to the

last.

 

With a sickening shock Edgar realized his responsibility in drawing the

ruffians in pursuit of him into the home of a peaceful and innocent

merchant. Though he was the one they sought, it was not to be supposed

for a moment that the merchant’s family would, even though he gave

himself up, remain unmolested. Furious with himself, and desperate to

defend the innocent from the consequences of his thoughtlessness, Edgar

sprang through the doorway upon the ruffians who were gathering there.

 

His sword rose and fell with the rapidity and unerring precision he had

learned in so many hard-fought encounters at Gaspard’s school, and in

the space of a few seconds three lay wounded upon the ground and the

others were in full flight. More men were stealing up behind, but at

the screeching of the wounded and the headlong flight of the remainder

they too turned and hastily retreated. For some distance Edgar followed

them up, and, by sundry thrusts at the hindmost, sent them racing down

the stairs to the passage through the warehouse. Here he stopped, for

the way was dark, and he could not know but that many might be lurking

among the bales, ready to spring out as he passed by, and, by stabbing

him in the back, render themselves masters of the merchant’s dwelling.

 

Returning to the door of the room, Edgar beckoned to the merchant, who

was engaged in calming the fears of his wife and daughters, to come outside for a moment.