CHAPTER V--"BLOODY AS THE HUNTER"
The lads lay quiet till the last footstep had melted on the wind. Thenthey arose, and with many an ache, for they were weary with constraint,clambered through the ruins, and recrossed the ditch upon the rafter.Matcham had picked up the windac and went first, Dick following stiffly,with his cross-bow on his arm.
"And now," said Matcham, "forth to Holywood."
"To Holywood!" cried Dick, "when good fellows stand shot? Not I! Iwould see you hanged first, Jack!"
"Ye would leave me, would ye?" Matcham asked.
"Ay, by my sooth!" returned Dick. "An I be not in time to warn theselads, I will go die with them. What! would ye have me leave my own menthat I have lived among. I trow not! Give me my windac."
But there was nothing further from Matcham's mind.
"Dick," he said, "ye sware before the saints that ye would see me safe toHolywood. Would ye be forsworn? Would you desert me--a perjurer?"
"Nay, I sware for the best," returned Dick. "I meant it too; but now!But look ye, Jack, turn again with me. Let me but warn these men, and,if needs must, stand shot with them; then shall all be clear, and I willon again to Holywood and purge mine oath."
"Ye but deride me," answered Matcham. "These men ye go to succour arethe I same that hunt me to my ruin."
Dick scratched his head.
"I cannot help it, Jack," he said. "Here is no remedy. What would ye?Ye run no great peril, man; and these are in the way of death. Death!"he added. "Think of it! What a murrain do ye keep me here for? Give methe windac. Saint George! shall they all die?"
"Richard Shelton," said Matcham, looking him squarely in the face, "wouldye, then, join party with Sir Daniel? Have ye not ears? Heard ye notthis Ellis, what he said? or have ye no heart for your own kindly bloodand the father that men slew? 'Harry Shelton,' he said; and Sir HarryShelton was your father, as the sun shines in heaven."
"What would ye?" Dick cried again. "Would ye have me credit thieves?"
"Nay, I have heard it before now," returned Matcham. "The fame goethcurrently, it was Sir Daniel slew him. He slew him under oath; in hisown house he shed the innocent blood. Heaven wearies for the avengingon't; and you--the man's son--ye go about to comfort and defend themurderer!"
"Jack," cried the lad "I know not. It may be; what know I? But, seehere: This man hath bred me up and fostered me, and his men I have huntedwith and played among; and to leave them in the hour of peril--O, man, ifI did that, I were stark dead to honour! Nay, Jack, ye would not ask it;ye would not wish me to be base."
"But your father, Dick?" said Matcham, somewhat wavering. "Your father?and your oath to me? Ye took the saints to witness."
"My father?" cried Shelton. "Nay, he would have me go! If Sir Danielslew him, when the hour comes this hand shall slay Sir Daniel; butneither him nor his will I desert in peril. And for mine oath, goodJack, ye shall absolve me of it here. For the lives' sake of many menthat hurt you not, and for mine honour, ye shall set me free."
"I, Dick? Never!" returned Matcham. "An ye leave me, y' are forsworn,and so I shall declare it."
"My blood heats," said Dick. "Give me the windac! Give it me!"
"I'll not," said Matcham. "I'll save you in your teeth."
"Not?" cried Dick. "I'll make you!"
"Try it," said the other.
They stood, looking in each other's eyes, each ready for a spring. ThenDick leaped; and though Matcham turned instantly and fled, in two boundshe was over-taken, the windac was twisted from his grasp, he was thrownroughly to the ground, and Dick stood across him, flushed and menacing,with doubled fist. Matcham lay where he had fallen, with his face in thegrass, not thinking of resistance.
Dick bent his bow.
"I'll teach you!" he cried, fiercely. "Oath or no oath, ye may go hangfor me!"
And he turned and began to run. Matcham was on his feet at once, andbegan running after him.
"What d'ye want?" cried Dick, stopping. "What make ye after me? Standoff!"
"Will follow an I please," said Matcham. "This wood is free to me."
"Stand back, by 'r Lady!" returned Dick, raising his bow.
"Ah, y' are a brave boy!" retorted Matcham. "Shoot!"
Dick lowered his weapon in some confusion.
"See here," he said. "Y' have done me ill enough. Go, then. Go yourway in fair wise; or, whether I will or not, I must even drive you toit."
"Well," said Matcham, doggedly, "y' are the stronger. Do your worst. Ishall not leave to follow thee, Dick, unless thou makest me," he added.
Dick was almost beside himself. It went against his heart to beat acreature so defenceless; and, for the life of him, he knew no other wayto rid himself of this unwelcome and, as he began to think, perhapsuntrue companion.
"Y' are mad, I think," he cried. "Fool-fellow, I am hasting to yourfoes; as fast as foot can carry me, go I thither."
"I care not, Dick," replied the lad. "If y' are bound to die, Dick, I'lldie too. I would liever go with you to prison than to go free withoutyou."
"Well," returned the other, "I may stand no longer prating. Follow me,if ye must; but if ye play me false, it shall but little advance you,mark ye that. Shalt have a quarrel in thine inwards, boy."
So saying, Dick took once more to his heels, keeping in the margin of thethicket and looking briskly about him as he went. At a good pace herattled out of the dell, and came again into the more open quarters ofthe wood. To the left a little eminence appeared, spotted with goldengorse, and crowned with a black tuft of firs.
"I shall see from there," he thought, and struck for it across a heathyclearing.
He had gone but a few yards, when Matcham touched him on the arm, andpointed. To the eastward of the summit there was a dip, and, as it were,a valley passing to the other side; the heath was not yet out; all theground was rusty, like an unscoured buckler, and dotted sparingly withyews; and there, one following another, Dick saw half a score greenjerkins mounting the ascent, and marching at their head, conspicuous byhis boar-spear, Ellis Duckworth in person. One after another gained thetop, showed for a moment against the sky, and then dipped upon thefurther side, until the last was gone.
Dick looked at Matcham with a kindlier eye.
"So y' are to be true to me, Jack?" he asked. "I thought ye were of theother party."
Matcham began to sob.
"What cheer!" cried Dick. "Now the saints behold us! would ye snivel fora word?"
"Ye hurt me," sobbed Matcham. "Ye hurt me when ye threw me down. Y' area coward to abuse your strength."
"Nay, that is fool's talk," said Dick, roughly. "Y' had no title to mywindac, Master John. I would 'a' done right to have well basted you. Ifye go with me, ye must obey me; and so, come."
Matcham had half a thought to stay behind; but, seeing that Dickcontinued to scour full-tilt towards the eminence and not so much aslooked across his shoulder, he soon thought better of that, and began torun in turn. But the ground was very difficult and steep; Dick hadalready a long start, and had, at any rate, the lighter heels, and he hadlong since come to the summit, crawled forward through the firs, andensconced himself in a thick tuft of gorse, before Matcham, panting likea deer, rejoined him, and lay down in silence by his side.
Below, in the bottom of a considerable valley, the short cut fromTunstall hamlet wound downwards to the ferry. It was well beaten, andthe eye followed it easily from point to point. Here it was bordered byopen glades; there the forest closed upon it; every hundred yards it ranbeside an ambush. Far down the path, the sun shone on seven steelsalets, and from time to time, as the trees opened, Selden and his mencould be seen riding briskly, still bent upon Sir Daniel's mission. Thewind had somewhat fallen, but still tussled merrily with the trees, and,perhaps, had Appleyard been there, he would have drawn a warning from thetroubled conduct of the birds.
"Now, mark," Dick whispered. "They be already well advanced into thewood; their safet
y lieth rather in continuing forward. But see ye wherethis wide glade runneth down before us, and in the midst of it, these twoscore trees make like an island? There were their safety. An they butcome sound as far as that, I will make shift to warn them. But my heartmisgiveth me; they are but seven against so many, and they but carrycross-bows. The long-bow, Jack, will have the uppermost ever."
Meanwhile, Selden and his men still wound up the path, ignorant of theirdanger, and momently drew nearer hand. Once, indeed, they paused, drewinto a group, and seemed to point and listen. But it was something fromfar away across the plain that had arrested their attention--a hollowgrowl of cannon that came, from time to time, upon the wind, and told ofthe great battle. It was worth a thought, to be sure; for if the voiceof the big guns were thus become audible in Tunstall Forest, the fightmust have rolled ever eastward, and the day, by consequence, gone soreagainst Sir Daniel and the lords of the dark rose.
But presently the little troop began again to move forward, and came nextto a very open, heathy portion of the way, where but a single tongue offorest ran down to join the road. They were but just abreast of this,when an arrow shone flying. One of the men threw up his arms, his horsereared, and both fell and struggled together in a mass. Even from wherethe boys lay they could hear the rumour of the men's voices crying out;they could see the startled horses prancing, and, presently, as the troopbegan to recover from their first surprise, one fellow beginning todismount. A second arrow from somewhat farther off glanced in a widearch; a second rider bit the dust. The man who was dismounting lost holdupon the rein, and his horse fled galloping, and dragged him by the footalong the road, bumping from stone to stone, and battered by the fleeinghoofs. The four who still kept the saddle instantly broke and scattered;one wheeled and rode, shrieking, towards the ferry; the other three, withloose rein and flying raiment, came galloping up the road from Tunstall.From every clump they passed an arrow sped. Soon a horse fell, but therider found his feet and continued to pursue his comrades till a secondshot despatched him. Another man fell; then another horse; out of thewhole troop there was but one fellow left, and he on foot; only, indifferent directions, the noise of the galloping of three riderlesshorses was dying fast into the distance.
All this time not one of the assailants had for a moment shown himself.Here and there along the path, horse or man rolled, undespatched, in hisagony; but no merciful enemy broke cover to put them from their pain.
The solitary survivor stood bewildered in the road beside his fallencharger. He had come the length of that broad glade, with the island oftimber, pointed out by Dick. He was not, perhaps, five hundred yardsfrom where the boys lay hidden; and they could see him plainly, lookingto and fro in deadly expectation. But nothing came; and the man began topluck up his courage, and suddenly unslung and bent his bow. At the sametime, by something in his action, Dick recognised Selden.
At this offer of resistance, from all about him in the covert of thewoods there went up the sound of laughter. A score of men, at least, forthis was the very thickest of the ambush, joined in this cruel anduntimely mirth. Then an arrow glanced over Selden's shoulder; and heleaped and ran a little back. Another dart struck quivering at his heel.He made for the cover. A third shaft leaped out right in his face, andfell short in front of him. And then the laughter was repeated loudly,rising and reechoing from different thickets.
It was plain that his assailants were but baiting him, as men, in thosedays, baited the poor bull, or as the cat still trifles with the mouse.The skirmish was well over; farther down the road, a fellow in green wasalready calmly gathering the arrows; and now, in the evil pleasure oftheir hearts, they gave themselves the spectacle of their poorfellow-sinner in his torture.
Selden began to understand; he uttered a roar of anger, shouldered hiscross-bow, and sent a quarrel at a venture into the wood. Chancefavoured him, for a slight cry responded. Then, throwing down hisweapon, Selden began to run before him up the glade, and almost in astraight line for Dick and Matcham.
The companions of the Black Arrow now began to shoot in earnest. Butthey were properly served; their chance had past; most of them had now toshoot against the sun; and Selden, as he ran, bounded from side to sideto baffle and deceive their aim. Best of all, by turning up the glade hehad defeated their preparations; there were no marksmen posted higher upthan the one whom he had just killed or wounded; and the confusion of theforesters' counsels soon became apparent. A whistle sounded thrice, andthen again twice. It was repeated from another quarter. The woods oneither side became full of the sound of people bursting through theunderwood; and a bewildered deer ran out into the open, stood for asecond on three feet, with nose in air, and then plunged again into thethicket.
Selden still ran, bounding; ever and again an arrow followed him, butstill would miss. It began to appear as if he might escape. Dick hadhis bow armed, ready to support him; even Matcham, forgetful of hisinterest, took sides at heart for the poor fugitive; and both lads glowedand trembled in the ardour of their hearts.
He was within fifty yards of them, when an arrow struck him and he fell.He was up again, indeed, upon the instant; but now he ran staggering,and, like a blind man, turned aside from his direction.
Dick leaped to his feet and waved to him.
"Here!" he cried. "This way! here is help! Nay, run, fellow--run!"
But just then a second arrow struck Selden in the shoulder, between theplates of his brigandine, and, piercing through his jack, brought him,like a stone, to earth.
"O, the poor heart!" cried Matcham, with clasped hands.
And Dick stood petrified upon the hill, a mark for archery.
Ten to one he had speedily been shot--for the foresters were furious withthemselves, and taken unawares by Dick's appearance in the rear of theirposition--but instantly, out of a quarter of the wood surprisingly nearto the two lads, a stentorian voice arose, the voice of Ellis Duckworth.
"Hold!" it roared. "Shoot not! Take him alive! It is youngShelton--Harry's son."
And immediately after a shrill whistle sounded several times, and wasagain taken up and repeated farther off. The whistle, it appeared, wasJohn Amend-All's battle trumpet, by which he published his directions.
"Ah, foul fortune!" cried Dick. "We are undone. Swiftly, Jack, comeswiftly!"
And the pair turned and ran back through the open pine clump that coveredthe summit of the hill.