CHAPTER X
For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and hissojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy withhis wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, aroyalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fightingmen; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief ofthe barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or theirfriends.
Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome ofhis expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of adozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learnthe mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessibleand unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozenknights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of hisgreat band of villains.
The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort,oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truceand would have speech with the master of Torn.
"Admit them, Shandy," commanded Norman of Torn, "I will speak with themhere."
When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence itfound itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor.
Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced theoutlaw.
"Be ye Norman of Torn?" he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatredand loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful.
"They call me so," replied the visored knight. "And what may bring a DeMontfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?"
"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn," replied the young man."It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for youhave us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid,only be quick and let me hence with my sister."
"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What meanyou?"
"Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two dayssince, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who werefetching her home from a visit upon the Baron's daughter. We know thatit was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark."
"Shandy!" roared Norman of Torn. "WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon theroad, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge duringmy visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the truth!"
"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served youwell, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and thatnever have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor isit the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon theirdead that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves."
"Henry de Montfort," said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, "we ofTorn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say thatwe unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I giveyou the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?"
"They say you never lie," replied De Montfort. "Would to God I knew whohad done this thing, or which way to search for my sister."
Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, andit was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart orhis rage against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore hiswhole being.
In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passedthe drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men andthe noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms.
Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried theirmailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman theDevil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of thecastle of Peter of Colfax.
The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressedgates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor.
The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancientbanded mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan.Gold and silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplateand shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' headarmor showed the rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman ofTorn's wild raiders.
Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the graybanner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of thefive companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were coveredwith gray leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was theblack falcon's wing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, beingof dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstandingthe richness of the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim,gray warlike appearance to these wild companies that comported well withtheir reputation.
Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country ofEurope, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf andnoble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot,Pict and Irish.
Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gallmarks of his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder toshoulder with the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisitesfor admission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and anoath to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn.
The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, eachcompany captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability.
Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first threecompanies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasonedveterans of a thousand fights.
One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always importantpost of chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the fivecut-throats whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before,in the hut of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle ofTorn, which post included also the vital functions of quartermaster andcommissary.
The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire inthe art of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in thecompanies, due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and theirbattles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they did notalways come off unscathed, though usually victorious.
Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at thehead of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column.Above his gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest. It wasthe insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle.Where it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, andabout it they were wont to rally.
Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain.
At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: RedShandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France.
The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and earlyafternoon brought forth men, women and children to cheer and waveGod-speed to them; but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn,where the black falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of itsname than by the kindly deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of hisneighborhood, they saw only closed and barred doors with an occasionalfrightened face peering from a tiny window.
It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouettedagainst the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the foresta half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandyand some fifty men to a point as close as they could come without beingobserved. Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthilyforward alone.
Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows ofthe great gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shonedimly from the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life wasapparent. To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridgelowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls.
As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar withits int
ernal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he couldreach a small antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall.
And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door ofthe little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stooda strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girlsaw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face.
"Draw!" commanded a low voice in English, "unless you prefer to pray,for you are about to die."
"Who be ye, varlet?" cried the Baron. "Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To the rescue,quick!" he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to back quicklytoward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon himand forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps.
It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John andGuy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords.
"Ware! Sir Knight," cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushingto the aid of their master.
Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon theterror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for thedoorway bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions,and running quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threwthe key with all her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instantshe regretted her act, for she saw that where she might have reducedher rescuer's opponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardlyBaron to remain, and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat.
The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, andfor an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibitionof swordsmanship she was witnessing.
Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the sametime, the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced themsteadily back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel aboutthem. Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in theheart of one of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor,it was flashing again close to the breasts of the two remainingmen-at-arms.
Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl'sattention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfaxwas moving--slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, towardthe visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger.
For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move afinger or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regainingcontrol of her muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavyfoot-stool, hurled it full at Peter of Colfax.
It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as theknight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist.
As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supportedthe only lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all wasdarkness. There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of ratsand then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall.
"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?" asked a grave English voiceout of the darkness.
"Quite, Sir Knight," she replied, "and you?"
"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?"
"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin longdagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be uponyou."
The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about theroom. Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeblerays slowly penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies ofthe three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visoredknight; but Peter of Colfax was gone.
The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed alow, grim laugh.
"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade," he said.
"How know you my name?" she asked. "Who may you be? I do not recognizeyour armor, and your breastplate bears no arms."
He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filledwith the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Condewho had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few shortweeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, andthere was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Rogerde Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, itwas true, with a slight French accent.
"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn," said the visored knight withquiet dignity.
The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. Foryears that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatredagainst her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by thevaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men hadcome to whisper the name with grim, set lips.
"Norman of Torn!" she whispered. "May God have mercy on my soul!"
Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged acrossthe countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill ofhopelessness, shook his giant frame.
"You need not fear, My Lady," he said sadly. "You shall be in yourfather's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will besafer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your ownmighty father, or your royal uncle."
"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn," spoke the girl, "and Ibelieve you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort."
"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred ofPeter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me todo as I do, that is all. Come."
He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowereddrawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and inanswer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that itwas he.
"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me,alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy,when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting,Shandy."
Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never beena weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime objectof his many raids, was at least a very important consideration.
The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subalternand signing him to listen, said:
"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged forthe love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vaguegenerality. Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertradede Montfort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy,from tower to scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting."
"Yes, My Lord," answered Shandy, and departed with his littledetachment.
In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter ofColfax.
"He has flown, My Lord," the big fellow reported, and indeed it wastrue. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castleand, by a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of somepriests without the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he wasseveral miles on his way to the coast and France; for he had recognizedthe swordsmanship of the outlaw, and did not care to remain in Englandand face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort.
"He will return," was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fullyconvinced that the Baron had escaped.
They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places,the prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fullyexpecting a summary and horrible death.
When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could nowsave the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and thewarriors filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade deMontfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmedand free.
As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flamesthat sprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smokerolled southward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear awayfrom the burning castle for an instant to show the black walls piercedby their hundreds of embrasures, e
ach lit up by the red of the ragingfire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so commonin those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than apassing backward glance.
Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wendedtheir slow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was bothelated and sad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girlwho awakened such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was aloathesome thing in her eyes. But that it was pure happiness just to benear her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow, what use to think!The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did notdare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfortto Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlawswore quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ridewithout either fighting or loot.
Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe herlife and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especialhatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house ofPlantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spokenfor so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might liebeneath that barred visor.
Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle'scantel and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night airwas chilly, and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a badplace in the road, lest the beast might slip and fall.
She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyondthat, no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, aboutmidday within sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort.
The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach ofso large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailingdistance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fightingmen.
Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath thecastle walls Simon de Montfort called forth:
"Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?"
"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a DeMontfort," replied Shandy. "He would enter with one companion, my LordEarl."
"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort--thinks hethat I keep a robbers' roost!" cried the fierce old warrior.
"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England," boasted thered giant. "Will you see him in peace, My Lord?"
"Let him enter," said De Montfort, "but no knavery, now, we are athousand men here, well armed and ready fighters."
Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman ofTorn and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneaththe portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law ofHenry III of England.
The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for ithad been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's menwithout being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon deMontfort, and his sons Henry and Simon.
The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging asidethe outlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent.
"What means this," cried De Montfort, "has the rascal offered you harmor indignity?"
"You craven liar," cried Henry de Montfort, "but yesterday you sworeupon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool,believed." And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Normanof Torn with drawn sword.
Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flewfrom its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent theblade of young De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then,before either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprungbetween them and placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw,stretched forth the other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen asthough to protect Norman of Torn from further assault.
"Be he outlaw or devil," she cried, "he is a brave and courteous knight,and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitalitythey can give, and not cold steel and insults." Then she explainedbriefly to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen duringthe past few days.
Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the firstto step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and toask his pardon for his rude words and hostile act.
The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said,
"Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman ofTorn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passingmoment; but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude,but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil,and that you have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I wouldgladly have your friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman ofTorn, with all his faults, as well as what virtues you may think him topossess."
"You are right, sir," said the Earl, "you have our gratitude and ourthanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and everduring our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery andyour candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may notbreak bread at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the rightto do."
"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man," said Norman of Tornquietly. "I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel withthe House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, theyare at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye." But as he turned togo, Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand.
"You must take my hand in friendship," she said, "for, to my dying day,I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror fromwhich he has rescued me."
He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one kneeraised them to his lips.
"To no other--woman, man, king, God, or devil--has Norman of Torn bentthe knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that hisservices are yours for the asking."
And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard ofthe castle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his fivehundred men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning inthe roadway.
"A strange man," said Simon de Montfort, "both good and bad, but fromtoday, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were otherthan he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies ofEngland, an he could be persuaded to our cause."
"Who knows," said Henry de Montfort, "but that an offer of friendshipmight have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was anote of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand."