Edgar the Ready 7

Edgar the Ready 7

"Canst not fetch aid?"

 

"How dare I leave my wife and daughters, young sir? At any moment thou

mayst be overcome, leaving them at the mercy of these ruffians."

 

"Nay, if thou wilt give me a lighted lantern fixed upon a short pole, I

will, I promise thee, rid thy house of these cut-throats until such time

as thou canst bring help. But I cannot fight to advantage in the dark."

 

"Thou shalt have the lanthorn. See thou keep’st thy promise."

 

The lantern was brought, and bearing it high up with his left hand, and

holding his sword in his right, Edgar returned along the way he had

come, searching for any trace of lurking foes. He encountered none

until he had nearly reached the broken door, but here he found them

gathered in force, and had to make another attack. His determined front

and darting sword, however, quickly cowed the men, and after a very

short struggle they gave back, and, rushing for the door, fought their

way out in absolute panic.

 

Edgar did not trouble to follow up his advantage, but contented himself

with placing his lantern where its light would shine upon the broken

door, sitting down himself in a shadow and resting, while he watched and

listened.

 

Half an hour passed away without any change. He could tell his pursuers

still lurked outside, but not once did they dare to return to the

attack. Then he heard cries of alarm and the sound of rapid footsteps.

A moment or two later a face appeared at the broken door, and he

recognized the merchant.

 

"Is all well within?" he called breathlessly.

 

"All is well," cried Edgar, coming forward.

 

"God be praised!" cried the merchant in a voice of deep relief. "I have

brought an officer and ten men, and at the sight of us the vagabonds

made off."

 

"’Tis well. We are safe from attack now."

 

"Did the ruffians molest thee?"

 

"Nay. And now, sir, I must make the best of my way back to my home at

Castle Wolsingham without loss of time. But before I go I pray thee

forgive me for the alarm I have caused thee and the ladies of thy

household. Thou know’st ’twas all done in the heat and extremity of the

moment, and wilt excuse my thoughtlessness."

 

"I cannot regret aught that has gained me the acquaintance of one so

gallant," cried the merchant warmly. "Come with me, for I am sure the

ladies will desire an opportunity to thank thee for themselves."

 

The gratitude of the merchant and his wife and daughters, now that their

alarm had subsided, was very great, and they united in praising Edgar

for what they termed his bravery. But Edgar laughed at them, and would

have no such term applied to what he called an afternoon’s useful

practice with the sword. One destined to the trade of arms, he

disclaimed banteringly, must regard such a brush as of no more moment

than the merchant’s assistants did the measuring of a bale of cloth.

But the merchant’s daughters would not be denied, and showed their

admiration of the young esquire by pressing food and dainties upon him,

and by washing and tending the cripple lad, the unhappy cause of all the

disturbance.

 

An offer of the loan of a horse gave Edgar an excuse to be gone and to

escape from irksome thanks and embarrassingly bright eyes. So as soon

as they had finished tending the cripple lad, whose name they soon found

out to be Peter, he bade them all goodbye, and, mounting the steed and

taking Peter up behind him, set off for Wolsingham once more.

 

His strange and exciting adventure had ended in the loss of a horse and

the winning of a lad. How the latter was to be provided for, Edgar knew

no more than he knew, when he set out in the morning, that he would

return saddled with such a dependent. It was all very strange, but his

mind was fully made up that he could not readily part with a lad for

whom he had risked and ventured so much.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER V*

 

*The Fracas*

 

 

It was late when Edgar reached the vicinity of Wolsingham, and,

preferring to obtain Geoffrey Fletcher’s permission before he brought

Peter into the castle, he left him for the night at the farmhouse of one

of the tenants on the Wolsingham lands. He then rode on to the castle,

and, learning that Geoffrey was still up, made his way to him, and

related in detail all that had befallen that eventful afternoon.

Geoffrey was concerned at the loss of the horse, but made little of the

difficulty of the cripple lad. He could, he said, easily find

employment for him among the tenantry if he found it impossible to take

him into service within the castle. The latter would depend upon his

inspection of the lad on the morrow. He congratulated Edgar warmly upon

coming out of so serious a fracas with a whole skin, and strongly

advised him, if he were still bent upon continuing his lessons with

Gaspard, to choose a more public route until such time as the affair was

likely to have been forgotten.

 

During the homeward journey, Edgar had learned from Peter all that he

could tell him of his life and parents. As he had expected, the lad’s

parents were both dead--his mother but a few months since--and he had

only been allowed shelter in the house where his parents had lived by

the kindness of one of the women of the place. Her husband, however,

was of another mind, and, finding that the boy could give nothing in

payment, had turned him out of the house.

 

Again and again he had stolen back, however, and the man’s wrath had

increased beyond measure as he found him there time after time, until it

ended in the more than usually brutal beating which Edgar was

fortunately just in time to prevent becoming something worse. Of

relations, Peter had none--that he knew of; and without help, sympathy,

or hope he would in all probability, if he had survived and had remained

in those evil surroundings, have drifted imperceptibly into evil and

vicious courses.

 

From this Edgar’s intervention had saved him, and though as yet he did

not realize all that it meant, he was deeply grateful for the timely

succour.

 

On the morrow Edgar took Peter in to Geoffrey, and then and there he was

placed in charge of the armourer, who had for some time been wanting a

boy to work his bellows. With healthy surroundings, good food, and fair

treatment, he soon lost much of his frail and ill-nourished appearance,

and but for his infirmity would in time have passed muster with other

youths of his rank and station. Indeed, even his infirmity gradually

lessened, until at last his limp, though still noticeable, marred his

appearance rather than his usefulness.

 

The recollection of the stirring scenes they had been through together

always remained a bond of union between Edgar and Peter the armourer’s

lad, and the desire to aid and the desire to serve remained with them

even after months and years had passed by. If Edgar wanted someone to

go on an errand, it was Peter who was only too delighted to go; and if

Peter had ever any desire beyond his work, it was always to Edgar that

he came for advice or permission. If anything, the bond between them

increased with the lapse of time, and it became a recognized thing in

the castle that Peter was the special protégé and retainer of Edgar

Wintour.

 

Three or four years passed without any change of note taking place in

the affairs of the castle. Then its lord, Sir John Chartris, returned

from the wars, and an alteration was made that had a considerable

influence in the lives of more than one of its inmates. Sir John had

previously paid several visits to his home but had soon departed, for he

was constantly campaigning in Flanders, the south of France, or

elsewhere. On this occasion he returned alone, for his esquire had

recently been knighted, and had left him to take service under another

banner.

 

As soon as the news that the office of personal esquire to Sir John was

vacant became known, the excitement and rivalry between Aymery

Montacute, Roland Mortimer, Robert Duplessis, Philip Soames, and Edgar

became intense. That such a contingency was likely soon to arise had

been known for some time, and each of them had nursed within himself the

secret hope that he might be the fortunate one and follow his master to

the wars. Rivalry had always existed between them, but naturally this

increased tenfold at the thought that a selection must soon be made, for

Sir John had so far steadily refused to take with him more than one

esquire.

 

In prowess with weapons, both on foot and on horseback, Aymery, Roland,

and Edgar were generally considered to be about equal. But this

estimate was based on their performances in the castle courtyard and

gymnasium, and little account, if any, was taken of the fact that Edgar

always wore full armour, and, more even than this, wore his vizor down

in those encounters. His comrades, however, had become so used to

meeting him in this fashion, and made so little of it beyond a few half

good-humoured gibes at his supposed dislike for cuts and bruises, that

they overlooked the heavy handicap under which he laboured. Edgar,

however, had not forgotten it, and resolved that when a trial was made

to qualify one of their number for the coveted position, he would fight

unencumbered, in the hopes of being able easily to overcome all his

opponents.

 

The lessons he had learned at Gaspard’s, too, would then very largely

come into play for the first time. Several of the best strokes he had

there learnt and practised he never used at Wolsingham, partly because

he did not wish to accentuate the rivalry that already existed by easily

worsting his comrades, and partly because he had had from the first a

vague idea that a knowledge of new modes of attack or defence, about

which they knew nothing, might prove useful to him in the days to come.

 

Several times the rivalry between him and one or two of his comrades had

led perilously near to an open quarrel; but Edgar so far had, by the

exercise of tact and a certain amount of forbearance, generally managed

to keep the peace. Twice, however, he had had high words with Aymery

and Roland over the rough manner in which they had treated Peter when

sending him on their errands. Even this had blown over, though it

remained an understood thing that if anyone wanted to annoy Edgar it was a safe and sure plan to bully the cripple lad.