Cedric, the Forester

  CHAPTER VIII--"THE FORTRESS OF THE MONKSLAYER"

  Cedric plucked at my sleeve and drew me aside.

  "Thou and Sir Geoffrey come with me a little," he whispered, "I havesomewhat to say on this."

  Quickly I sought out Geoffrey, and led him away into the bracken inwhich Cedric had already disappeared. A bow-shot away from the camp wecame up with him.

  "Sir Richard," he said, speaking far more quickly than was his wont. "Ihave a thought of the whereabouts of this fastness that the robberspeaks of in his letter."

  My heart leaped within me. "Hast thou, Cedric?" I cried. "If any one ofall our company should know, it would be thou who art native to thesewoods and knowest them as the very deer that run them."

  "Aye," he replied shortly, "I believe 'tis not two miles hence. Whatsay'st thou? Shall we reconnoiter?"

  "With all my heart," I answered.

  Geoffrey drew his cross-bow cord and placed a bolt in groove. "Lead on,Cedric," he said in a low voice. "I will follow thee if 'tis to a lion'sden."

  "Come then," replied Cedric, and moved away through the underwood.

  He took a roundabout course to avoid our own sentries and theirquestions which might be hampering. In five minutes we had passed theline where a little ravine ran between the posts of two of the archerswho stood on guard, and were hurrying through the wood, crouching forshelter behind trees and rocks and crossing the more open spaces instooping runs lest we encounter the arrows of the outlaws. We saw noneof our enemies, however, and in an hour were on a deeply wooded hillsideamidst huge rocks and brawling streams, half a league and more from ourcamp fires.

  Now we knew from the added caution of our leader that we approached thespot he suspected as the fortress of the outlaws. He crouched andcrawled like a serpent, and fully as silently, turning to us from timeto time to lay a finger on his lips. At last he paused at the foot of ahuge old oak that yet bore most of its leaves, and motioning us not tofollow, quickly drew himself up among the branches.

  For half a minute he lay on a great limb six yards above the ground andpeered obliquely down the hillside at a point where we could see naughtbut a little stream that issued from between huge ledges. Then his facelighted up of a sudden, and he looked down to us and beckoned us to joinhim.

  This we managed with no more noise than might well be covered by therustling of the oak leaves, and soon lay on the limb beside Cedric and,peering out betwixt the branches, beheld that to which his fingerpointed.

  There was a narrow pathway which led up between the ledges; and, at abend in this where they were concealed from any in the wood below, stoodtwo tall archers in Lincoln green, with axes in their belts, long bowsin hand and arrows ready notched. They neither saw nor heard aught ofus, and we might have fired on them with goodly chance of slaying one orboth; but Cedric now motioned us down to the ground again and soonjoined us beneath the tree.

  Without a word he retraced his steps through the forest; and by sundownwe stood again amongst the ferns in the place where he had firstrevealed his thought. Then he spoke again:

  "'Tis e'en as I thought. The Monkslayer hath his fastness in a widecavern at the head of yonder gully. There is no approach save by thatwinding path you saw where half a dozen men might well stop a thousand.He thinks to guard my Lady Carleton there until her ransom be paid. Andwhether even then he will let her go unharmed we know not."

  Sir Geoffrey ground his teeth in rage.

  "Hast thou any plan?" I asked of Cedric.

  "Aye," he replied, "though 'tis something ticklish; and if it fail,'twill be an ill chance indeed."

  "Say on, Cedric," said Geoffrey, eagerly.

  "This is my thought," said Cedric, "we have till to-morrow's sunrisebefore any harm shall befall thy lady mother. Now, it would bedisastrous to attack the fastness openly; but it may be that with twoscore of swordsmen, creeping on them just before the dawn, we can takethem by surprise. Your archer is all at disadvantage in fighting atarm's length; and if such a force can reach the cavern's mouth, Iwarrant we snatch away the prisoners almost before they are aware. Thecave is broad but not deep. I remember it full well. There is no room init for hiding."

  "But Cedric!" I cried, "how shall we reach the cave's mouth withoutalarm? Hast thou forgotten the two sentries in the lower pathway?"

  Cedric smiled broadly.

  "And hast thou forgotten, Sir Dickon, the oak tree from which we spiedthem but now? Old Marvin and I together shall care for the sentries."

  I drew a deep breath as I caught the full working of his plan. "Cedric,"I said, "thou wilt never remain a simple squire. Thou hast a head aswell as an arm. The King hath need for such in many places of trust."

  "Let us first make this plan succeed," replied Cedric evenly, though Icould see that my words had warmed him to the heart. "Now shall we tellLord Mountjoy?"

  "Aye," said I, "let us have him from the camp at once. I warrant youhe'll kindle at our news. And he knows which of our swordsmen will carrythemselves best in such a venture."

  "And I have twenty men of Carleton here that can be trusted," put inGeoffrey.

  "Right," said Cedric, "'twill make us amply strong. We must have noblunderers, though, for look you, some of these greenwood men have earsthat can hear a twig break at two hundred paces. We must urge LordMountjoy to hold all at a safe distance till the signal."

  Two hours after the midnight we set out through the forest for thestorming of the robber fastness. Cedric, as pathfinder, was in the lead,followed close by Lord Mountjoy, Sir Geoffrey and me. After us, andtreading most cautiously, 'mongst the leaves and brush, came old Marvin,the archer, and thirty chosen swordsmen of Mountjoy with a score or moreof Geoffrey's men.

  There was no moon; and the faint stars gave but little light in theforest deeps. Our way lay, as often as not, over steep and rocky slopeswhere our faces were torn with thorns and our legs bruised against theunseen rocks.

  We had made little more than half of our way to the outlaw strongholdwhen Lord Mountjoy, in coming down a streamlet bank in the darkness,stepped heavily on a stone that rolled beneath his weight, and went tothe ground with his right foot twisted under him. He gave a groan ofpain, yet in an instant was up again to resume his march. But then 'twasfound this could not be. His ankle had been most sorely wrenched, andwould not at all endure his weight. He sank down again on a leafy bank,and called us to him. Amidst half stifled groans and grumblings at hisill fortune he declared he could not move from thence withoutassistance. There was no help for it; he must await our return.Therefore he gave o'er to me the leadership of the venture. We left withhim two stout men-at-arms, and went quickly on, for now it seemed thesunrise could not be long in coming.

  At the fourth hour of the morning we lay by the streamlet bed, twohundred paces from the robbers' sentry post in the rocky passage. Cedricand old Marvin had left us to climb the hillside by another route andgain the branches of the great oak tree. Already there was a grayness inthe dark that told of the coming dawn. Half an hour passed, and bylittle and little the trunks of the trees grew more clearly to be seenand we could well make out each other's faces. Roosting wild fowl rousedthemselves, and flew away with a clatter of wings. We knew that Cedricand Marvin awaited the daylight to make sure their aim. At last, on thetop of a tall tree above me, I spied a beam of sunlight.

  Immediately, as it seemed, there came from the oak tree the call of anowl, twice repeated. This was the signal for which we waited; and wesprang up together and ran, as silently as might be, toward the pathwayentrance. We gained it unmolested, and with Geoffrey and me in the lead,quickly came upon the bodies of the sentries. Cedric and Marvin, fromtheir post in the tree, had well done their work. The sentinels hadperished silently, each with a bolt through his skull.

  We rushed forward; and now some of our arms rang against the stones; andthere was a cry from above us. This was no time for stealth andcreeping. On we went with a rush and with a clatter of heels on therocks of the path and of steel against steel as we jostled one a
notherin the race.

  In a moment we were at the cavern's mouth; and found a score of therobbers on their feet to meet us. Arrows whizzed among us and one or twomen fell, mortally hurt. Geoffrey let fly his bolt at a tall villainthat stood in his path, and shot him fair between the eyes. Then I sawno more for I was face to face with the outlaw chief, and our swordsflashed fire.

  He still wore his steel breastplate, which I believe he had not laidaside that night; and this well matched the shirt of woven mail that hadstayed two or three arrows which had otherwise laid me low. I felttaller and stronger at that moment than e'er before in my life; and mysword seemed a very plaything in my hands, like that of the Frenchman,De Latiere, who had so nearly done to death my father at the court atShrewsbury. The outlaw was no novice with the sword, as I who had oncebefore crossed weapons with him, could well testify. But almost at theoutset I brought to bear the play that, with my father's help, I had allthat summer been perfecting. A swinging feint at the forearm turneditself in mid-air to a flashing thrust straight at his unguarded throat.I pierced him through and through, and he fell and died at my feet.

  Looking about me, I saw most of the outlaws dead or dying and theremainder being fast bound as prisoners. Young Sir Geoffrey of Carletonhad dropped his cross-bow on the ground and stood with his mother's armsfirmly clasped about his neck the while he whispered somewhat in herear. At her side her two handmaids stood unharmed and loudly weeping forjoy.

  As I stood looking, well content, at this spectacle, the Lady ofCarleton suddenly loosed her son and ran toward me. In an instant I toowas clasped in a warm embrace.

  "Richard of Mountjoy," she cried, "thou and thine were my son's friendsand rescuers, and now mine also. This day's deeds bespeak thee farbetter than any words. Heaven is my witness, I believe thou art a trueman and hast spoken the truth as to thy dealings. All that we can do toserve thee shall be done. From this day forth and forever there shall bepeace and love betwixt our house and thine."