Edgar the Ready 8

Edgar the Ready 8

A few weeks after Sir John’s return home, it leaked out that it was

likely that he would take part in an expedition which was being

dispatched to Guienne under the leadership of the Earl of Derby. Much

was hoped for from this expedition, and it seemed certain that those

fortunate ones who took part in it would be in a fair way towards

winning much renown. It happened also that the greater part of the

lands to which Sir John’s ward, Beatrice d’Alençon, was heiress, lay not

far from the probable scene of the expedition, and presently the further

news transpired that Sir John contemplated taking her with him,

accompanied by his elder daughter, Gertrude, with the object of seizing

an early opportunity of looking into the condition of her estates.

 

As has already been explained, both Aymery and Roland had for years past

proudly worn the gage of Beatrice, with or without her permission, and

not unnaturally this news sent them nearly wild with the desire to

follow Sir John as his esquire. To take part in a famous campaign

beneath her very eyes would, they felt certain, be a sure means towards

gaining her admiration.

 

From the moment this news leaked out their rivalry was fanned to

boiling-point, and the quarrels between them became constant. Only

Edgar’s tact and self-control kept him from embroilment also; for though

they knew he was no rival so far as Beatrice was concerned, for he

openly scoffed at all such notions, they both feared his swordsmanship,

which might defeat their ambitions to follow Sir John to the wars. All

indeed that was needed to drag him within the circle of their strife was

something which would rouse his antagonism to the pitch at which theirs

normally stood. An explosion would then be inevitable. Unfortunately

this spark was presently supplied, and the unhappy cause of the mishap

was Peter, the armourer’s lad.

 

It happened that one day Aymery had set Peter to work to burnish up his

armour, which he had carelessly left exposed to the rain after he had

been going over it and fondly trying it on on the walls of the keep.

Peter went to work willingly enough, but the havoc was so great that by

the time he should have returned to the armourer it was only half done.

Hastily completing it, in a rough-and-ready fashion, he put it back in

the esquires’ chamber and went on his way to the forge, intending to

finish the work as soon as he was again free. Presently two or three of

the pages entered the chamber, and Aymery’s armour spread out on the

table was the first object to attract their attention. Not knowing or

caring to whom it belonged, and ripe for any sort of mischief, they

proceeded to amuse themselves by kicking and throwing the pieces about

the room.

 

Tiring of the fun, the armour was left lying where it had fallen, and

remained there until Aymery and several of the esquires entered.

 

"He refuses, Aymery," Roland was saying as they entered. "He saith that

the responsibility of looking after one esquire is enough for him, and

that the others must seek other opportunity of winning their spurs--at

the tourney, I think he meant."

 

"Didst press thy claims to accompany him?" enquired Aymery sourly.

 

"They need no pressing," responded Roland haughtily. "And ’tis not

_thy_ claims I fear."

 

Aymery was about to make an angry retort when he noticed the pieces of

armour he so highly prized lying about the floor in all parts of the

room.

 

"Who hath flung my armour here?" he cried, with a sudden burst of wrath.

"I will trounce him finely--upon my sword, I swear it--whoever the

varlet may be. Was’t any of ye?" he ended fiercely, as he glared at the

shamefaced pages.

 

The boys looked at one another uneasily, and then one more brazen than

the rest replied coolly:

 

"Why dost not look after thy property, Aymery? Where didst leave it?

Not with any of us, I’ll warrant."

 

"Ah, I recollect! ’Twas with the armourer’s boy I left it. Doubtless

he still thinketh ’tis only Edgar’s bidding he must do. It seemeth I

must teach him another well-merited lesson. Bid him come to me at once,

Maurice--be off with thee!"

 

The page sped off upon his errand, and the others waited, eyeing Aymery

expectantly, for they felt that something more than the chastisement of

an unruly youth was in the wind. At any moment Edgar Wintour might come

in, for it was nigh upon his time, and none thought that he would see

Aymery flog Peter without interfering. The angry esquire spent the

minute or two which elapsed before the boy’s arrival in examining the

pieces of armour strewn about the floor, and the inspection apparently

did nothing to improve his temper.

 

Peter had evidently been told what was afoot, for he went straight up to

Aymery immediately he entered.

 

"You want me, sir," he said quietly.

 

"Aye, varlet," cried Aymery, grasping him roughly by the collar, "dost

see my armour strewn about the floor? What dost mean by it? I will

break every bone in thy body, dog that thou art!" and he gave emphasis

to his savage words by shaking Peter with all his strength.

 

"I placed them not there," cried Peter, twisting himself free. "I know

nothing of it."

 

"Know nothing of it!" cried Aymery, still more incensed. "The work is

only half done--dost know nothing of that? Knave, get thee to work at

once and do it over again, or I will beat thee so thou canst not stand."

 

Peter hesitated a moment, for the armourer was busy, and was, he knew,

awaiting his return with some impatience. Misunderstanding his

reluctance to do his behest, Aymery’s wrath boiled up and over, and,

seizing the boy by the shoulders, he flung him across the table.

 

"Come, Roland, aid me administer a sound thrashing to this obstinate

varlet. He thinketh ’tis only Wintour’s bidding he must do, and hangeth

back when we command."

 

Roland was only too ready, and grasped and held Peter while Aymery

snatched up a couple of armour buckles and belaboured him with all his

strength. There could be no doubt that Aymery was almost beside himself

with rage, for the buckles tore away Peter’s clothing until they reached

and began to score deeply into the bare flesh--and still he went on.

 

At first the lad bore the beating in silence, but as the buckles began

to cut into his back he commenced to scream with ever-increasing

intensity.

 

It was in the midst of this that Edgar suddenly entered. The screams

and the sight of Peter, face downwards on the table and covered with

blood, smote him as a blow, and his face blanched in a way that none had

ever seen before.

 

"Get thee gone, Wintour," cried Aymery recklessly. "This is well-merited

punishment, and interfere thou shalt not."

 

For answer, Edgar sprang at the speaker, seized him round the waist, and

flung him heavily against the wall. Then he turned fiercely upon

Roland; but that worthy shrank back before his pale face and flashing

eyes, and, letting go Peter, fled to the wall and tore down a sword.

 

Finding himself free, Peter crawled from the table and dragged himself

into the inner room, the door of which Edgar flung open while he faced

and kept watch upon his furious comrades. He, too, had snatched a sword

from the wall, and he now placed himself squarely in the doorway and

waited. The moment Aymery had recovered his balance, he felt at his side

and grasped the hilt of his sword. But Duplessis laid firm hand upon his

arm and whispered an urgent warning, and Aymery was not so mad but that

he was able to realize the dangerous folly of attacking Edgar with

sharpened and pointed weapon. Abandoning his first impulse, he followed

Roland’s example, and, possessing himself of one of the blunted,

pointless weapons used in their practices, instantly attacked the figure

standing in the doorway of the room in which the cripple lad had taken

refuge, standing with ready poise as though prepared to dispute with all

present their right to pass unchallenged.

 

The encounter that ensued was so reckless and desperate that none

present had seen the like before. Aymery at first seemed too angry to

trouble about defending, and hacked at his adversary with a fierce

rapidity that gave Edgar little time for other than parrying. In a

minute or two, however, he managed to give Aymery so strong a thrust

with his pointless weapon against his unjerkined chest that he was

compelled to cease pressing in to close quarters and to pay some

attention to defence.

 

"Smite home, Aymery," cried Roland, thinking his friend was giving back.

"Smite home, or let me have my fling at the braggart!"

 

Stung into more reckless activity, Aymery sprang again to the attack,

leaving his head for the moment unguarded. Before his own blow had

fallen, the flat of Edgar’s weapon caught him heavily upon the side of

the head, and he fell back against the table, sick and half-fainting.

Edgar had scarcely stepped back into position before Roland was savagely

attacking him in his turn, secure in the possession of headpiece and

jerkin, which he had cautiously donned whilst the fight with Aymery was

proceeding.

 

"Once thou didst gibe at me for fearing the weight of my comrades’

blows," laughed Edgar, as their blades ground together. "Why then this

jerkin? Why then this headpiece? Methinks ’tis another that most fears

the shock of blows upon skull and body."

 

"Bah!" cried Roland, "if thou thinkest I care for thy blows I will tear

them off."

 

"The result will be the same," retorted Edgar. "I care neither way.

Look to thy guard, or I vow thy headpiece will help thee little."

 

Though fighting keenly, Edgar kept an eye upon the room as well as upon

his adversary. Aymery, he could see, was recovering from the blow he

had received, and in a moment might be expected to renew the fight with

temper little improved by the sharpness of his punishment. Others of

his comrades were whispering together, and he fancied they meditated an

attack to overcome his resistance and put an end to the conflict.

 

Thinking it time to rid himself of Roland, for Aymery had given himself

a shake and grasped his sword anew, Edgar put into effect a trick he had

learned of Gaspard some years before. As their swords grated together

he locked his blade in the hilt of his opponent’s sword, and, with a

sharp wrench, tore the weapon from his grasp. With a shout of pain, for

his wrist had been severely twisted, Roland jumped swiftly back out of

reach; then, recovering from his surprise, he seized another weapon from

the wall and sprang to the attack once more. Aymery was now also

attacking, and the two made such an onslaught that Edgar was compelled to fence as he had never fenced before.