Edgar the Ready 9

Edgar the Ready 9

Suddenly the door opened and Geoffrey Fletcher entered, followed by a

couple of men-at-arms.

 

"Hold!" he cried. "Hold! Cease this brawling, or ye shall cool your

heels in the guardroom."

 

But neither Aymery nor Roland paid any heed to his words; they were too

intent upon beating down Edgar’s resistance. Roland had already

inflicted a severe blow upon his unprotected head, and, dizzy from the

effects, Edgar had retired a pace or two into the doorway, where the two

blades could play upon him less easily.

 

"Men-at-arms, arrest these brawlers!" cried Geoffrey sternly, and

striding forward, followed by the two men, he seized Roland roughly by

the shoulder and struck down his sword with his own weapon. One of the

men-at-arms seized Aymery, and the other approached Edgar, who

immediately flung his sword upon the floor, and, folding his arms,

looked the man in the face.

 

"There, Matthew!" he said, as quietly as his heaving chest would allow,

"take it--it has done its work so far. Then come with me and help me to

take poor Peter to his bed. He is the innocent cause of all this

unhappy mischief."

 

Matthew picked up the weapon and went and looked at Peter, who was

supporting himself, half-fainting, against the wall. Then, recalled by

the stern voice of Geoffrey, he whispered: "I will return and see to

him, or send someone in my place."

 

"Men-at-arms, march the prisoners to the guard-room, and keep them close

till Sir John’s pleasure is known," commanded Geoffrey; and the

esquires, sobered by the recollection of their folly now that the heat

of the conflict was evaporating, marched unresistingly out of the

chamber down the stairs to the guardroom adjoining the castle gates.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER VI*

 

*Sir John’s Esquire*

 

 

The three esquires were kept closely confined the rest of the day and

all night in a cell leading out of the guardroom, watched over by a

man-at-arms, to see that there was no renewal of hostilities. The

interval gave them time for quiet reflection, and doubtless the first

conclusion they came to was that such a fracas was hardly likely to

commend any one of them to Sir John Chartris as being a suitable

candidate for the position of his personal esquire, especially at a time

when he was about to start for Guienne and Gascony accompanied by a

portion of his household. It was obvious that he would wish for an

esquire who possessed prudence as well as fighting capacity, when at any

time it might be necessary to leave him in sole charge of his affairs.

 

To Edgar, at any rate, the thought was torture. Though he could scarcely

see how he could have acted otherwise--for the rescue of Peter he never

for a moment regretted--he yet felt angry with himself that he had not

somehow avoided a collision at a time so critical in his career.

However his comrades may have got on, he himself scarcely slept a wink

all night.

 

It was nearly midday when a summons came to the prisoners that they were

to prepare themselves for an interview with Sir John. Half an hour

later Geoffrey appeared, again accompanied by a guard of men-at-arms,

and the three esquires were marched across the courtyard to the council

chamber of Sir John, high up in the walls of the keep. Curious eyes

watched them pass by, for the news that there had been a serious fracas

in the esquires’ quarters had spread like wildfire through the castle.

Some commiseration was expressed at their ill luck in the affair

happening whilst Sir John was at the castle, and, consequently, in their

having to appear before him, for he was known to be something of a

martinet.

 

As they approached the door of Sir John’s chamber it opened, and a youth

stepped out. It was Peter, the armourer’s assistant. Aymery and Roland

looked at one another gloomily. His presence hardly augured well for

them.

 

The first thing the three young men noticed as they were ushered into

the room was that Sir Percy Standish as well as Sir John Chartris was

present. Both knights were seated at a table fronting the doorway, and

Geoffrey ranged the three esquires facing them, with a man-at-arms on

either flank. He then took a seat at Sir Percy’s side.

 

"What am I to think of my esquires," began Sir John in a stern,

upbraiding voice, as he fixed his steel-grey eyes upon each of the young

men in turn, "what am I to think of the example they set to my

men-at-arms and retainers when they brawl thus amongst themselves? How

can I entrust to them the command of soldiers when they have no command

over themselves and less knowledge of discipline?"

 

"But, Sir John----" began Aymery hotly.

 

"Cease, boy!--I will hear no excuses. There can be no excuse for the

men I command to fight amongst themselves. Had this breach of

discipline occurred in face of the enemy I would surely have sent ye

back to your homes--disgraced esquires. Now ye shall spend the rest of

the day and night in the guard chamber, to meditate upon my words and

your own folly; and for two weeks more the sentinel at the gate will

have orders to refuse you exit. Dost understand?"

 

The three esquires murmured assent.

 

"Then, Geoffrey, remove the prisoners, and see that my commands are

obeyed."

 

The three esquires were marched back to their cell, gloomy and cast

down. Sir John’s words and the sentence had sounded the death knell of

all their hopes of becoming Sir John’s esquire and accompanying him to

the wars, and Aymery and Roland, at least, felt with bitter certainty

that it was their own cruelty and overbearing conduct they had to thank

for it. In their distress of mind a truce was patched up between the

three esquires, and though Edgar could not yet forget the others’

cruelty to poor Peter, and they could not so soon forget their heavy

defeat, they tacitly agreed to let the matter rest and to be as friendly

as they could.

 

At the end of the fortnight of confinement within the precincts of the

castle Sir John sent for Edgar. Wondering what the summons might mean,

coming so close upon his disgrace, Edgar made speed to obey.

 

"This quarrel of thine," began Sir John abruptly, though in a not

unkindly tone; "I have made enquiries, and I am not disposed to make too

much of thy mischance. Perhaps, even, I may think that thou didst not

altogether ill to break my rules and to defend the lad. Geoffrey hath

told me how it came about that thou didst save the lad at peril of thine

own life, and doubtless ’twould be too hard to expect thee to hold thy

peace when thy comrades were mishandling him."

 

Sir John paused for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully, and Edgar,

thinking something required of him, murmured: "Thank you, Sir John."

 

"But how didst come to learn that trick with the sword that hath set thy

comrades wondering?" went on the knight in a brisker tone. "I mean that

catch of thy weapon that tore Roland’s from his grasp?"

 

"’Twas learned at Gaspard’s, Sir John."

 

"Gaspard’s? And who is Gaspard?"

 

"He is the founder of a school of arms in London town to which I have

been going twice in every week. I thought perhaps Geoffrey had told

thee that it was on the return from one of my visits to Gaspard’s that I

rescued Peter."

 

"Ha, yes! He did mention it, but I paid no heed. Didst not then feel

satisfied with Sir Percy’s teaching?"

 

"Yes, sir; but after a time I thought that I might learn more, and might

obtain a knowledge of more varied forms of attack and defence, did I

seek other practices."

 

"Thou wert right. ’Tis well not to move in too narrow a circle. I

found that out, overlate, in my first battle, and for the lack I paid

heavily in blood and pain. However, I learned my lessons in time. But

how dost fare at Gaspard’s? Art put quite in the shade?"

 

"He tells me," replied Edgar slowly, and flushing slightly, "that I am

his most promising pupil. Oftentimes he asks me to have a bout with

visitors who have heard of his school and who would try how far his

instruction extends."

 

"Ha! That sounds vastly to thy credit. And dost win these bouts or

dost lose?"

 

"I lose sometimes," replied Edgar evasively, wishing the knight would

not press the point so far.

 

"I must see this Gaspard," said Sir John reflectively. "My sword hath

been idle of late, and ’twould not come amiss to practise on his pupils

ere I join our forces in Guienne; but, ha! at any rate I can practise on

his most promising pupil. Get thy sword, Edgar, and I will test thy

prowess for myself."

 

"Nay, sir, I beg thou wilt not; ’twere scarce seemly for esquire----"

 

"Ho! ho! Thou fearest to beat me?--or dost fear to be put to the test?

Nay, ’tis not the latter; I wrong thee there, I am sure. Well, never

mind, lad, I have other matters to think of for the moment. I purpose

to make thee my esquire. What dost think of it?"

 

Edgar gave a start for sheer joy.

 

"Think of it, Sir John? It is all I could desire in all the world. I

will serve thee--I do not say well, but as well as it is in my power to

do."

 

"There are other things than fighting and riding to be done, Edgar.

Thou mayst have to stay behind when I go campaigning, to look after the

ladies and to see to my interests. For this I need a cool head and a

devoted heart. Canst fulfil these conditions?"

 

"I will try so to do, Sir John."

 

"Very well. I appoint thee my esquire. Every morning thou wilt come to

me for thy instructions. In three weeks, if the weather favours our

projects, we set sail for Guienne, and in those three weeks we must have

furbished up our arms, selected the men-at-arms and archers who are to

accompany us, and hied us to the coast."

 

Edgar’s joy was so great that he could scarcely collect his thoughts,

but at last he managed to stammer out his thanks.

 

"Say no more, Edgar. Now go, and see thou keep’st the peace with thy

comrades. They will be sorely disappointed, but thou hast earned thy

reward and they have not. I am glad ’tis thee, Edgar Wintour, who wilt

accompany me, for thy father’s sake as well as for thine own. Thou

know’st what he did for me? Well, he desired that thou shouldst make

thy way by thine own efforts, without help from me, and so far thou hast

done so indeed. Now go, and bear thyself generously towards thy less fortunate comrades."

Edgar the Ready 9

Suddenly the door opened and Geoffrey Fletcher entered, followed by a

couple of men-at-arms.

 

"Hold!" he cried. "Hold! Cease this brawling, or ye shall cool your

heels in the guardroom."

 

But neither Aymery nor Roland paid any heed to his words; they were too

intent upon beating down Edgar’s resistance. Roland had already

inflicted a severe blow upon his unprotected head, and, dizzy from the

effects, Edgar had retired a pace or two into the doorway, where the two

blades could play upon him less easily.

 

"Men-at-arms, arrest these brawlers!" cried Geoffrey sternly, and

striding forward, followed by the two men, he seized Roland roughly by

the shoulder and struck down his sword with his own weapon. One of the

men-at-arms seized Aymery, and the other approached Edgar, who

immediately flung his sword upon the floor, and, folding his arms,

looked the man in the face.

 

"There, Matthew!" he said, as quietly as his heaving chest would allow,

"take it--it has done its work so far. Then come with me and help me to

take poor Peter to his bed. He is the innocent cause of all this

unhappy mischief."

 

Matthew picked up the weapon and went and looked at Peter, who was

supporting himself, half-fainting, against the wall. Then, recalled by

the stern voice of Geoffrey, he whispered: "I will return and see to

him, or send someone in my place."

 

"Men-at-arms, march the prisoners to the guard-room, and keep them close

till Sir John’s pleasure is known," commanded Geoffrey; and the

esquires, sobered by the recollection of their folly now that the heat

of the conflict was evaporating, marched unresistingly out of the

chamber down the stairs to the guardroom adjoining the castle gates.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER VI*

 

*Sir John’s Esquire*

 

 

The three esquires were kept closely confined the rest of the day and

all night in a cell leading out of the guardroom, watched over by a

man-at-arms, to see that there was no renewal of hostilities. The

interval gave them time for quiet reflection, and doubtless the first

conclusion they came to was that such a fracas was hardly likely to

commend any one of them to Sir John Chartris as being a suitable

candidate for the position of his personal esquire, especially at a time

when he was about to start for Guienne and Gascony accompanied by a

portion of his household. It was obvious that he would wish for an

esquire who possessed prudence as well as fighting capacity, when at any

time it might be necessary to leave him in sole charge of his affairs.

 

To Edgar, at any rate, the thought was torture. Though he could scarcely

see how he could have acted otherwise--for the rescue of Peter he never

for a moment regretted--he yet felt angry with himself that he had not

somehow avoided a collision at a time so critical in his career.

However his comrades may have got on, he himself scarcely slept a wink

all night.

 

It was nearly midday when a summons came to the prisoners that they were

to prepare themselves for an interview with Sir John. Half an hour

later Geoffrey appeared, again accompanied by a guard of men-at-arms,

and the three esquires were marched across the courtyard to the council

chamber of Sir John, high up in the walls of the keep. Curious eyes

watched them pass by, for the news that there had been a serious fracas

in the esquires’ quarters had spread like wildfire through the castle.

Some commiseration was expressed at their ill luck in the affair

happening whilst Sir John was at the castle, and, consequently, in their

having to appear before him, for he was known to be something of a

martinet.

 

As they approached the door of Sir John’s chamber it opened, and a youth

stepped out. It was Peter, the armourer’s assistant. Aymery and Roland

looked at one another gloomily. His presence hardly augured well for

them.

 

The first thing the three young men noticed as they were ushered into

the room was that Sir Percy Standish as well as Sir John Chartris was

present. Both knights were seated at a table fronting the doorway, and

Geoffrey ranged the three esquires facing them, with a man-at-arms on

either flank. He then took a seat at Sir Percy’s side.

 

"What am I to think of my esquires," began Sir John in a stern,

upbraiding voice, as he fixed his steel-grey eyes upon each of the young

men in turn, "what am I to think of the example they set to my

men-at-arms and retainers when they brawl thus amongst themselves? How

can I entrust to them the command of soldiers when they have no command

over themselves and less knowledge of discipline?"

 

"But, Sir John----" began Aymery hotly.

 

"Cease, boy!--I will hear no excuses. There can be no excuse for the

men I command to fight amongst themselves. Had this breach of

discipline occurred in face of the enemy I would surely have sent ye

back to your homes--disgraced esquires. Now ye shall spend the rest of

the day and night in the guard chamber, to meditate upon my words and

your own folly; and for two weeks more the sentinel at the gate will

have orders to refuse you exit. Dost understand?"

 

The three esquires murmured assent.

 

"Then, Geoffrey, remove the prisoners, and see that my commands are

obeyed."

 

The three esquires were marched back to their cell, gloomy and cast

down. Sir John’s words and the sentence had sounded the death knell of

all their hopes of becoming Sir John’s esquire and accompanying him to

the wars, and Aymery and Roland, at least, felt with bitter certainty

that it was their own cruelty and overbearing conduct they had to thank

for it. In their distress of mind a truce was patched up between the

three esquires, and though Edgar could not yet forget the others’

cruelty to poor Peter, and they could not so soon forget their heavy

defeat, they tacitly agreed to let the matter rest and to be as friendly

as they could.

 

At the end of the fortnight of confinement within the precincts of the

castle Sir John sent for Edgar. Wondering what the summons might mean,

coming so close upon his disgrace, Edgar made speed to obey.

 

"This quarrel of thine," began Sir John abruptly, though in a not

unkindly tone; "I have made enquiries, and I am not disposed to make too

much of thy mischance. Perhaps, even, I may think that thou didst not

altogether ill to break my rules and to defend the lad. Geoffrey hath

told me how it came about that thou didst save the lad at peril of thine

own life, and doubtless ’twould be too hard to expect thee to hold thy

peace when thy comrades were mishandling him."

 

Sir John paused for a moment and looked at him thoughtfully, and Edgar,

thinking something required of him, murmured: "Thank you, Sir John."

 

"But how didst come to learn that trick with the sword that hath set thy

comrades wondering?" went on the knight in a brisker tone. "I mean that

catch of thy weapon that tore Roland’s from his grasp?"

 

"’Twas learned at Gaspard’s, Sir John."

 

"Gaspard’s? And who is Gaspard?"

 

"He is the founder of a school of arms in London town to which I have

been going twice in every week. I thought perhaps Geoffrey had told

thee that it was on the return from one of my visits to Gaspard’s that I

rescued Peter."

 

"Ha, yes! He did mention it, but I paid no heed. Didst not then feel

satisfied with Sir Percy’s teaching?"

 

"Yes, sir; but after a time I thought that I might learn more, and might

obtain a knowledge of more varied forms of attack and defence, did I

seek other practices."

 

"Thou wert right. ’Tis well not to move in too narrow a circle. I

found that out, overlate, in my first battle, and for the lack I paid

heavily in blood and pain. However, I learned my lessons in time. But

how dost fare at Gaspard’s? Art put quite in the shade?"

 

"He tells me," replied Edgar slowly, and flushing slightly, "that I am

his most promising pupil. Oftentimes he asks me to have a bout with

visitors who have heard of his school and who would try how far his

instruction extends."

 

"Ha! That sounds vastly to thy credit. And dost win these bouts or

dost lose?"

 

"I lose sometimes," replied Edgar evasively, wishing the knight would

not press the point so far.

 

"I must see this Gaspard," said Sir John reflectively. "My sword hath

been idle of late, and ’twould not come amiss to practise on his pupils

ere I join our forces in Guienne; but, ha! at any rate I can practise on

his most promising pupil. Get thy sword, Edgar, and I will test thy

prowess for myself."

 

"Nay, sir, I beg thou wilt not; ’twere scarce seemly for esquire----"

 

"Ho! ho! Thou fearest to beat me?--or dost fear to be put to the test?

Nay, ’tis not the latter; I wrong thee there, I am sure. Well, never

mind, lad, I have other matters to think of for the moment. I purpose

to make thee my esquire. What dost think of it?"

 

Edgar gave a start for sheer joy.

 

"Think of it, Sir John? It is all I could desire in all the world. I

will serve thee--I do not say well, but as well as it is in my power to

do."

 

"There are other things than fighting and riding to be done, Edgar.

Thou mayst have to stay behind when I go campaigning, to look after the

ladies and to see to my interests. For this I need a cool head and a

devoted heart. Canst fulfil these conditions?"

 

"I will try so to do, Sir John."

 

"Very well. I appoint thee my esquire. Every morning thou wilt come to

me for thy instructions. In three weeks, if the weather favours our

projects, we set sail for Guienne, and in those three weeks we must have

furbished up our arms, selected the men-at-arms and archers who are to

accompany us, and hied us to the coast."

 

Edgar’s joy was so great that he could scarcely collect his thoughts,

but at last he managed to stammer out his thanks.

 

"Say no more, Edgar. Now go, and see thou keep’st the peace with thy

comrades. They will be sorely disappointed, but thou hast earned thy

reward and they have not. I am glad ’tis thee, Edgar Wintour, who wilt

accompany me, for thy father’s sake as well as for thine own. Thou

know’st what he did for me? Well, he desired that thou shouldst make

thy way by thine own efforts, without help from me, and so far thou hast

done so indeed. Now go, and bear thyself generously towards thy less fortunate comrades."