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Winning His Spurs by George Alfred Henty

Part 5 out of 5

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moment consented to it. But the shame shall not hang upon the escutcheon
of Hubert of Gloucester that he stood still when such foul means were
tried. I pray you, by our long friendship, and for the sake of your own
honour as a knight, to desist from this endeavour. If this lady be
guilty, as she well may be, of aiding her son in his assaults upon the
soldiers of Prince John, then let her be tried, and doubtless the court
will confiscate her estates. But let her son be told that her life is in
no danger, and that he is free to go, being assured that harm will not
come to her."

"And if I refuse to consent to allow my enemy, who is now almost within
my hand, to escape," Sir Rudolph said, "what then?"

"Then," said the knight, "I and my following will at once leave your
walls, and will clear ourselves to the brave young knight yonder of all
hand in this foul business."

A murmur of agreement from several of those standing round showed that
their sentiments were in accordance with those of Sir Hubert.

"I refuse," said Rudolph passionately. "Go, if you will. I am master of
my actions, and of this castle."

Without a word, Sir Hubert and two others of the knights present turned,
and briefly ordering their men-at-arms to follow them, descended the
staircase to the courtyard below. Their horses were brought out, the men
fell into rank, and the gates of the castle were thrown open.

"Stand to arms!" Sir Cuthbert shouted to the archers. "They are going to
attempt a sortie." And hastily he retired to the main body of his men.



As the band of knights and their retainers issued from the gate, a
trumpeter blew a parley, and the three knights advanced alone towards the
group of archers.

"Sir Cuthbert de Lance," Sir Hubert said, "in the name of myself and my
two friends here we ask your pardon for having so far taken part in this
foul action. We did so believing only that Sir Rudolph intended the
capture of your lady mother as a threat. Now that we see he was in
earnest, we wash our hands of the business; and could we in any way atone
for our conduct in having joined him, we would gladly do so, consistently
only with our allegiance to the Prince Regent."

Cuthbert bowed courteously.

"Thanks for your words, Sir Hubert. I had always heard yourself and the
knights here spoken of as brave and gallant gentlemen, whose sole fault
was that they chose to take part with a rebel prince, rather than with
the King of England. I rejoice that you have cleared your name of so foul
a blot as this would have placed upon it, and I acknowledge that your
conduct now is knightly and courteous. But I can no more parley. The sun
is within a few minutes of twelve, and I must surrender, to meet such
fate as may befall me."

So saying, with a bow he left them, and again advanced to the
castle gate.

"Sir Rudolph," he shouted, "the hour is at hand. I call upon you to
deliver, outside the gate, the lady, my mother. Whether she wills it or
not, I call upon you to place her beyond the gate, and I give you my
knightly word that as she leaves it I enter it."

Dame Editha would then have attempted resistance; but she saw that it
would be useless. With a pale face she descended the steps, accompanied
by the men-at-arms. She knew that any entreaty to Sir Rudolph would be
vain, and with the courage of her race she mentally vowed to devote the
rest of her life to vengeance for her son.

As the gate opened and she was thrust forth, for a moment she found
herself in the arms of her son.

"Courage, mother!" he whispered; "all may yet be well."

Cnut was waiting a few paces behind, and offering his hand to Dame
Editha, he led her to the group of archers, while Cuthbert, alone,
crossed the drawbridge, and entered the portal, the heavy portcullis
falling after him.

Cnut immediately ordering four of his men to escort Dame Editha to the
wood with all speed, advanced with his men towards the walls. All had
strung their bows and placed their arrows on the ground in front of them
in readiness for instant use. Cnut himself, with two others carrying the
rope, advanced to the edge of the moat. None observed their doings, for
all within the castle were intent upon the proceedings there.

In the courtyard Sir Rudolph had taken his post, with the captain of the
mercenaries beside him, and the men-at-arms drawn up in order. He smiled
sardonically as Cuthbert entered.

"So, at last," he said, "this farce is drawing to an end. You are in my
power, and for the means which I have taken to capture you, I will
account to the prince. You are a traitor to him; you have attacked and
slaughtered many of my friends; you are an outlaw defying the law; and
for each of these offences your head is forfeited."

"I deny," Cuthbert said, standing before him, "your right to be my
judge. By my peers only can I be tried. As a knight of England and as
rightful lord of this castle, I demand to be brought before a jury of
my equals."

"I care nothing for rights or for juries," said Sir Rudolph. "I have the
royal order for your execution, and that order I shall put into effect,
although all the knights and barons in England objected."

Cuthbert looked round to observe the exact position in which he was
standing. He knew, of course, every foot of the castle, and saw that but
a short distance behind a single row of armed men was the staircase
leading to the battlements.

"False and perjured knight," he said, taking a step forward, "I may die;
but I would rather a thousand deaths than such a life as yours will be
when this deed is known in England. But I am not yet dead. For myself, I
could pardon you; but for the outrage to my mother--" and with a sudden
movement he struck Sir Rudolph in the face with all his strength, with
his mailed hand.

With the blood gushing from his nostrils, the knight fell backwards, and
Sir Cuthbert, with a bound, before the assembly could recover from their
astonishment at the deed, burst through the line of men-at-arms, and
sprang up the narrow staircase. A score of men-at-arms started in
pursuit; but Sir Cuthbert gained the battlements first, and without a
moment's hesitation sprang upon them and plunged forward, falling into
the moat fifty feet below. Here he would have perished miserably, for in
his heavy armour he was of course unable to swim a stroke, and his weight
took him at once into the mud of the moat. At its margin, however, Cnut
stood awaiting him, with one end of the rope in his hand. In an instant
he plunged in, and diving to the bottom, grasped Cuthbert by the body,
and twisted the rope round him. The two archers on the bank at once
hauled upon it, and in a minute Sir Cuthbert was dragged to the bank.

By this time a crowd of men-at-arms appeared upon the battlements. But as
they did so the archers opened a storm of arrows upon them, and quickly
compelled them to find shelter. Carried by Cnut and the men with him--for
he was insensible--Sir Cuthbert was quickly conveyed to the centre of the
outlaws, and these at once in a compact body began their retreat to the
wood. Cuthbert quickly recovered consciousness, and was soon able to
walk. As he did so, the gates of the castle were thrown open, and a crowd
of men-at-arms, consisting of the retainers of the castle and the
mercenaries of Prince John, sallied forth. So soon as Cuthbert was able
to move, the archers started at a brisk run, several of them carrying
Cuthbert's casque and sword, and others assisting him to hurry along. The
rear ranks turned as they ran and discharged flights of arrows at the
enemy, who, more heavily armed and weighted, gained but slowly upon them.

Had not Sir Rudolph been stunned by the blow dealt him by Cuthbert, he
would himself have headed the pursuit, and in that case the foresters
would have had to fight hard to make their retreat to their fastness. The
officer in command of the mercenaries, however, had no great stomach for
the matter. Men were hard to get, and Prince John would not have been
pleased to hear that a number of the men whom he had brought with such
expense from foreign parts had been killed in a petty fray. Therefore
after following for a short time he called them off, and the archers fell
back into the forest.

Here they found Dame Editha, and for three days she abode among them,
living in a small hut in the centre of the forest. Then she left, to take
up her abode, until the troubles were past, with some kin who lived in
the south of Gloucestershire.

Although the lady abbess had assured Cuthbert that the retreat of Lady
Margaret was not likely to be found out, he himself, knowing how great a
stake Sir Rudolph had in the matter, was still far from being easy. It
would not be difficult for the latter to learn through his agents that
the lady superior of the little convent near Hereford was of kin to her
of St. Anne's, and, close as a convent is, yet the gossiping of the
servants who go to market was certain to let out an affair so important
as the arrival of a young lady to reside under the charge of the
superior. Cuthbert was not mistaken as to the acuteness of his enemy. The
relationship between the two lady superiors was no secret, and after
having searched all the farmhouses and granges near the forest, and being
convinced that the lady abbess would have sent her charge rather to a
religious house than to that of a franklin, Sir Rudolph sought which of
those within the circuit of a few miles would be likely to be the one
selected. It was not long before he was enabled to fix upon that near
Hereford, and spies going to the spot soon found out from the
countrypeople that it was a matter of talk that a young lady of rank had
been admitted by the superior. Sir Rudolph hesitated whether to go
himself at the head of a strong body of men and openly to take her, or to
employ some sort of device. It was not that he himself feared the
anathema of the church; but he knew Prince John to be weak and
vacillating, at one time ready to defy the thunder of the pope, the next
cringing before the spiritual authority. He therefore determined to
employ some of his men to burst into the convent and carry off the
heiress, arranging that he himself, with some of his men-at-arms, should
come upon them in the road, and make a feigned rescue of her, so that, if
the lady superior laid her complaint before the pope's legate, he could
deny that he had any hand in the matter, and could even take credit for
having rescued her from the men who had profaned the convent. That his
story would be believed mattered but little. It would be impossible to
prove its falsity, and this was all that he cared for.

This course was followed out. Late one evening, the lady superior was
alarmed by a violent knocking at the door. In reply to questions asked
through the grill, the answer was given, "We are men of the forest, and
we are come to carry the Lady Margaret of Evesham off to a secure
hiding-place. The lord of Evesham has discovered her whereabouts, and
will be here shortly, and we would fain remove her before he arrives."

"From whom have you warrant?" the lady superior said. "I surrender her to
no one, save to the lady abbess of St. Anne's. But if you have a written
warrant from Sir Cuthbert, the rightful lord of Evesham, I will lay the
matter before the Lady Margaret, and will act as it may seem fit to her."

"We have no time for parleying," a rough voice said. "Throw open the gate
at once, or we will break it down."

"Ye be no outlaws," the lady superior said, "for the outlaws are men who
fear God and respect the church. Were ye what ye say, ye would be
provided with the warrants that I mention. I warn you, therefore, that if
you use force, you will be excommunicated, and placed under the ban of
the church."

The only answer was a thundering assault upon the gate, which soon
yielded to the blows. The sisters and novices ran shrieking through the
corridors at this rude uproar. The lady superior, however, stood calmly
awaiting the giving way of the gate.

"Where is the Lady Margaret?" the leader of the party, who were dressed
in rough garb, and had the seeming of a band of outlaws, demanded.

"I will say nothing," she said, "nor do I own that she is here."

"We will soon take means to find out," the man exclaimed. "Unless in five
minutes she is delivered to us, we will burn your place to the ground."

The lady abbess was insensible to the threat; but the men rushing in,
seized some sisters, who, terrified out of their wits by this irruption,
at once gave the information demanded, and the men made their way to the
cell where the Lady Margaret slept.

The girl had at once risen when the tumult commenced, doubting not in her
mind that this was another attempt upon the part of her enemy to carry
her off. When, therefore, she heard heavy footsteps approaching along the
gallery--having already hastily attired herself--she opened the door and
presented herself.

"If you seek the Lady Margaret of Evesham," she said calmly, "I am she.
Do not harm any of the sisters here. I am in your power, and will go with
you at once. But I beseech you add not to your other sins that of
violence against holy women."

The men, abashed by the calm dignity of this young girl, abstained from
laying hands upon her, but merely motioned to her to accompany them. Upon
their way they met the man who appeared to be their leader, and he, well
pleased that the affair was over, led the way to the courtyard.

"Farewell, my child," the abbess exclaimed. "God will deliver you from
the power of these wicked men. Trust in Him, and keep up your courage.
Wickedness will not be permitted to triumph upon the earth; and be
assured that the matter shall be brought to the ears of the pope's
legate, and of Prince John himself."

She could say no more, for the men closing round the weeping girl,
hurried her out from the convent. A litter awaited them without, and in
this the young lady was placed, and, borne upon the shoulders of four
stout men, she started at a fast pace, surrounded closely by the rest
of the band.

It was a dark night, and the girl could not see the direction in which
she was being taken; but she judged from the turn taken upon leaving the
convent, that it was towards Evesham. They had proceeded some miles, when
a trampling of horses was heard, and a body of armed men rode up. For a
moment Lady Margaret's heart gave a leap, for she thought that she had
been rescued by her friends. There was a loud and angry altercation, a
clashing of swords, and a sound of shouting and cries outside the litter.
Then it was placed roughly on the ground, and she heard the sound of the
footsteps of her first captors hurrying away. Then the horsemen closed
round the litter, and the leader dismounted.

"I am happy indeed, Lady Margaret," he said approaching the litter, "to
have been able to save you from the power of these villains. Fortunately,
word came to me that the outlaws in the forest were about to carry you
off, and that they would not hesitate even to desecrate the walls of the
convent. Assembling my men-at-arms, I at once rode to your rescue, and am
doubly happy to have saved you, first, as a gentleman, secondly, as being
the man to whom our gracious prince has assigned you as a wife. I am Sir
Rudolph, Earl of Evesham."

As from the first the girl had been convinced that she had fallen into
the power of her lawless suitor, this came upon her as no surprise.

"Whether your story is true, Sir Rudolph," she said, "or not, God knows,
and I, a poor weak girl, will not pretend to venture to say. It is
between you and your conscience. If, as you say, you have saved me from
the power of the outlaws, I demand that, as a knight and a gentleman, you
return with me at once to the convent from which I was taken by force."

"I cannot do that," Sir Rudolph said. "Fortune has placed you in my
hands, and has enabled me to carry out the commands of the prince.
Therefore, though I would fain yield to your wishes and so earn your
goodwill, which above all things I wish to obtain, yet my duty towards
the prince commands me to utilize the advantage which fate has thrown in
my hands."

"You must do as you will, Sir Rudolph," the girl said with dignity. "I
believe not your tale. You sought before, in person, to carry me off, but
failed, and you have now employed other means to do so. The tale of your
conduct to Dame Editha has reached my ears, and I hold you a foresworn
knight and a dishonoured man, and as such I would rather die than become
your wife, although as yet I am but a child, and have no need to talk of
weddings for years to come."

"We need not parley here," the knight said coldly. "We shall have plenty
of time when at my castle."

The litter was now lifted, placed between two horses, and proceeded
rapidly on its journey. Although the hope was but faint, yet until the
gates of the castle closed upon them the Lady Margaret still hoped that
rescue might reach her. But the secret had been too well kept, and it was
not until the following day that the man who had been placed in a cottage
near the convent arrived in all haste in the forest, to say that it was
only in the morning that he had learnt that the convent had been broken
open by men disguised as archers, and the Lady Margaret carried off.

Four days elapsed before Sir Rudolph presented himself before the girl
he had captured. So fearfully was his face bruised and disfigured by the
blow from the mailed hand of Cuthbert three weeks before, that he did not
wish to appear before her under such unfavourable circumstances, and the
captive passed the day gazing from her casement in one of the rooms in
the upper part of the keep, towards the forest whence she hoped rescue
would come.

Within the forest hot discussions were going on as to the best course
to pursue. An open attack was out of the question, especially as upon
the day following the arrival there of Lady Margaret, 300 more
mercenaries had marched in from Worcester, so that the garrison was now
raised to 500 men.

"Is there no way," Cnut exclaimed furiously, "by which we might creep
into this den, since we cannot burst into it openly?"

"There is a way from the castle," Cuthbert said, "for my dear lord told
me of it one day when we were riding together in the Holy Land. He said
then that it might be that he should never return, and that it were well
that I should know of the existence of this passage, which few beside the
earl himself knew of. It is approached by a very heavy slab of stone in
the great hall. This is bolted down, and as it stands under the great
table passes unnoticed, and appears part of the ordinary floor. He told
me the method in which, by touching a spring, the bolts were withdrawn
and the stone could be raised. Thence a passage a quarter of a mile long
leads to the little chapel standing in the hollow, and which, being
hidden among the trees, would be unobserved by any party besieging the
castle. This of course was contrived in order that the garrison, or any
messenger thereof, might make an exit in case of siege."

"But if we could escape," Cnut asked, "why not enter by this way?"

"The stone is of immense weight and strength," Cuthbert replied, "and
could not be loosed from below save with great labour and noise. There
are, moreover, several massive doors in the passage, all of which are
secured by heavy bolts within. It is therefore out of the question that
we could enter the castle by that way. But were we once in, we could
easily carry off the lady through this passage."

The large force which Sir Rudolph had collected was not intended merely
for the defence of the castle, for the knight considered that with his
own garrison he could hold it against a force tenfold that which his
rival could collect. But he was determined if possible to crush out the
outlaws of the forest, for he felt that so long as this formidable body
remained under an enterprising leader like Sir Cuthbert, he would never
be safe for a moment, and would be a prisoner in his own castle.

Cuthbert had foreseen that the attack was likely to be made and had
strengthened his band to the utmost. He felt, however, that against so
large a force of regularly armed men, although he might oppose a stout
resistance and kill many, yet that in the end he must be conquered. Cnut,
however, suggested to him a happy idea, which he eagerly grasped.

"It would be rare sport," Cnut said, "when this armed force comes out
to attack us, if we could turn the tables by slipping in, and taking
their castle."

"The very thing," Cuthbert exclaimed. "It is likely that he will use the
greater portion of his forces, and that he will not keep above fifty or
sixty men, at the outside, in the castle. When they sally out we will at
first oppose a stout resistance to them in the wood, gradually falling
back. Then, at a given signal, all save twenty men shall retire hastily,
and sweeping round, make for the castle. Their absence will not be
noticed, for in this thick wood it is difficult to tell whether twenty
men or two hundred are opposing you among the bushes; and the twenty who
remain must shoot thick and fast to make believe that their numbers are
great, retiring sometimes, and leading the enemy on into the heart of
the wood."

"But supposing, Sir Cuthbert, that they should have closed the gates and
lifted the drawbridge? We could not gain entrance by storming, even if
only twenty men held the walls, until long after the main body would have

Cuthbert thought for some time, and then said, "Cnut, you shall
undertake this enterprise. You shall fill a cart high with faggots, and
in it shall conceal a dozen of your best men. You, dressed as a serf,
shall drive the oxen, and when you reach the castle shall say, in answer
to the hail of the sentry, that you are bringing in the tribute of wood
of your master the franklin of Hopeburn. They will then lower the
drawbridge and open the gates; and when you have crossed the bridge and
are under the portcullis, spring out suddenly, cut loose the oxen so
that they will not draw the cart further in, cut the chains of the
drawbridge so that it cannot be drawn off, and hold the gate for a
minute or two until we arrive."

"The plan is capital," Cnut exclaimed. "We will do the proud Norman yet.
How he will storm when he finds us masters of his castle. What then will
you do, Sir Cuthbert?"

"We can hold the castle for weeks," Cuthbert said, "and every day is in
our favour. If we find ourselves forced to yield to superior numbers, we
can at last retire through the passage I have spoken of, and must then
scatter and each shift for himself until these bad days be past."



Upon the day before starting out to head the expedition against the
outlaws, Sir Rudolph sent word to the Lady Margaret that she must prepare
to become his wife at the end of the week. He had provided two tiring
maids for her by ordering two of the franklins to send in their daughters
for that purpose, and these mingled their tears with Margaret's at the
situation in which they were placed. She replied firmly to the messenger
of the knight that no power on earth could oblige her to marry him. He
might drive her to the altar; but though he killed her there, her lips
should refuse to say the words which would unite them.

The following morning, early, the castle rang with the din of
preparation. The great portion of the mercenaries were encamped in tents
outside the walls, for, spacious as it was, Evesham could hardly contain
400 men in addition to its usual garrison. The men-at-arms were provided
with heavy axes to cut their way through the bushes. Some carried bundles
of straw, to fire the wood should it be found practicable to do so; and
as it was now summer and the wind was blowing high, Sir Rudolph hoped
that the dry grass and bushes would catch, and would do more even than
his men-at-arms in clearing the forest of those whom he designated the
villains infesting it. They had, too, with them several fierce dogs
trained to hunting the deer, and these, the knight hoped, would do good
service in tracking the outlaws. He and the knights and the men-at-arms
with him were all dismounted, for he felt that horses would in the
forest be an encumbrance, and he was determined himself to lead the way
to the men-at-arms.

When they reached the forest, they were saluted by a shower of arrows;
but as all were clad in mail, these at a distance effected but little
harm. As they came closer, however, the clothyard arrows began to pierce
the coarse and ill-made armour of the foot soldiers, although the finer
armour of the knight kept out the shafts which struck against it. Sir
Rudolph and his knights leading the way, they entered the forest, and
gradually pressed their invisible foe backwards through the trees. The
dogs did good service, going on ahead and attacking the archers; but, one
by one, they were soon shot, and the assailants left to their own
devices. Several attempts were made to fire the wood. But these failed,
the fire burning but a short time and then dying out of itself. In
addition to the fighting men, Sir Rudolph had impressed into the service
all the serfs of his domain, and these, armed with axes, were directed to
cut down the trees as the force proceeded, Sir Rudolph declaring that he
would not cease until he had levelled the whole forest, though it might
take him months to do so.

The assailants gained ground steadily, the resistance being less severe
than Sir Rudolph had anticipated. Several small huts and clearings in the
forest which had been used by the outlaws, and round which small crops
had been planted, were destroyed, and all seemed to promise well for the
success of the enterprise.

It was about two hours after they had left the castle, when a heavy cart
filled with faggots was seen approaching its gates. The garrison, who had
not the least fear of any attack, paid no attention to it until it
reached the edge of the moat. Then the warder, seeing that it contained
faggots, lowered the drawbridge without question, raised the portcullis,
and opened the gates.

"From whom do you bring this wood?" he asked, as the man driving the oxen
began to cross the bridge.

"From the franklin of Hopeburn."

"It is well," said the warder, "for he is in arrear now, and should have
sent in the firewood two months since. Take it to the wood-house at the
other end of the court."

The heavy-waggon crossed the drawbridge, but as it was entering the gate
it came suddenly to a stop. With a blow of his ox goad Cnut levelled the
warder to the ground, and cutting the cords of the bullocks, drove them
into the yard ahead. As he did so the pile of faggots fell asunder, and
twelve men armed with bow and pike leaped out. The men-at-arms standing
near, lounging in the courtyard, gave a shout of alarm, and the garrison,
surprised at this sudden cry, ran to their arms. At first they were
completely panic-stricken. But seeing after a time how small was the
number of their assailants, they took heart and advanced against them.
The passage was narrow, and the twelve men formed a wall across it. Six
of them with their pikes advanced, the other six with bent bows standing
behind them and delivering their arrows between their heads. The garrison
fought stoutly, and although losing many, were pressing the little band
backwards. In vain the assistant-warder tried to lower the portcullis, or
to close the gates. The former fell on to the top of the waggon, and was
there retained. The gates also were barred by the obstacle. The chains of
the drawbridge had at once been cut. Cnut encouraged his followers by his
shouts, and armed with a heavy axe, did good service upon the assailants.
But four of his party had fallen, and the rest were giving way, when a
shout was heard, and over the drawbridge poured Cuthbert and 150 of the
outlaws of the forest. Struck with terror at this attack, the garrison
drew back, and the foresters poured into the yard. For a few minutes
there was a fierce fight; but the defenders of the castle, disheartened
and taken by surprise, were either cut down or, throwing down their arms,
cried for quarter.

Ten minutes after the waggon had crossed the drawbridge, the castle was
safely in possession of Sir Cuthbert. The bridge was raised, the waggon
removed, the portcullis lowered, and to the external eye all remained
as before.

Cuthbert at once made his way to the chamber where the Lady Margaret was
confined, and her joy at her deliverance was great indeed. So unlimited
was her faith in Sir Cuthbert that she had never lost confidence; and
although it did not seem possible that in the face of such disparity of
numbers he could rescue her from the power of Sir Rudolph, yet she had
not given up hope. The joy of the farmers' daughters who had been
carried off to act as her attendants was little inferior to her own; for
once in the power of this reckless baron, the girls had small hopes of
ever being allowed to return again to their parents.

The flag of Sir Rudolph was thrown down from the keep, and that of the
late earl hoisted in its stead; for Cuthbert himself, although he had
assumed the cognizance which King Richard had granted him, had not yet
any flag or pennon emblazoned with it.

No words can portray the stupefaction and rage of Sir Rudolph when a man
who had managed to slip unobserved from the castle at the time of its
capture, bore the news to him in the forest. All opposition there had
ceased, and the whole of the troops were engaged in aiding the peasants
in cutting wide roads through the trees across the forest, so as to make
it penetrable by horsemen in every direction. It was supposed that the
outlaws had gradually stolen away through the thickets and taken to the
open country, intending to scatter to their homes, or other distant
hiding-places; and the news that they had by a ruse captured the castle,
came as a thunderclap.

Sir Rudolph's first impulse was to call his men together and to march
towards the castle. The drawbridge was up, and the walls bristled with
armed men. It was useless to attempt a parley; still more useless to
think of attacking the stronghold without the proper machines and
appliances. Foaming with rage, Sir Rudolph took possession of a cottage
near, camped his men around and prepared for a siege.

There were among the mercenaries many men accustomed to the use of
engines of war. Many, too, had aided in making them; and these were at
once set to work to construct the various machines in use at that time.
Before the invention of gunpowder, castles such as those of the English
barons were able to defy any attack by an armed force for a long period.
Their walls were so thick that even the balistas, casting huge stones,
were unable to breach them except after a very long time. The moats
which surrounded them were wide and deep, and any attempt at storming by
ladders was therefore extremely difficult; and these buildings were
consequently more often captured by famine than by other means. Of
provisions, as Sir Rudolph knew, there was a considerable supply at
present in the castle, for he had collected a large number of bullocks in
order to feed the strong body who had been added to the garrison. The
granaries, too, were well stored; and with a groan Sir Rudolph thought of
the rich stores of French wines which he had collected in his cellars.

After much deliberation with the knights with him and the captain of the
mercenaries, it was agreed in the first instance to attempt to attack the
place by filling up a portion of the moat and ascending by scaling
ladders. Huge screens of wood were made, and these were placed on
waggons; the waggons themselves were filled with bags of earth, and a
large number of men getting beneath them shoved the ponderous machines
forward to the edge of the moat. The bags of stones and earth were then
thrown in, and the waggons pushed backwards to obtain a fresh supply.
This operation was of course an exceedingly slow one, a whole day being
occupied with each trip of the waggons. They were not unmolested in their
advance, for, from the walls, mangonels and other machines hurled great
stones down upon the wooden screens, succeeding sometimes, in spite of
their thickness, in crashing through them, killing many of the men
beneath. The experiment was also tried of throwing balls of Greek fire
down upon the wood; but as this was green and freshly felled it would not
take fire, but the flames dropping through, with much boiling pitch and
other materials, did grievously burn and scald the soldiers working below
it. Upon both sides every device was tried. The cross-bow men among the
mercenaries kept up a fire upon the walls to hinder the defenders from
interfering with the operations, while the archers above shot steadily,
and killed many of those who ventured within range of their bows.

After ten days' labour, a portion of the moat some twenty yards in
length was filled with bags of earth, and all was ready for the assault.
The besiegers had prepared great numbers of strong ladders, and these
were brought up under shelter of the screens. Then, all being ready, the
trumpets sounded for the assault, and the troops moved forward in a close
body, covering themselves with their shields so that no man's head or
body was visible, each protecting the one before him with his shield held
over him. Thus the body presented the appearance of a great scale-covered
animal. In many respects, indeed, the warfare of those days was changed
in no way from that of the time of the Romans. In the 1200 years which
had elapsed between the siege of Jerusalem and the days of the crusades
there had been but little change in arms or armour, and the operations
which Titus undertook for the reduction of the Jewish stronghold differed
but little from those which a Norman baron employed in besieging his
neighbour's castle.

Within Evesham Castle all was contentment and merriment during these
days. The garrison had no fear whatever of being unable to repel the
assault when it should be delivered. Huge stones had been collected in
numbers on the walls, cauldrons of pitch, beneath which fires kept
simmering, stood there in readiness. Long poles with hooks with which to
seize the ladders and cut them down were laid there; and all that
precaution and science could do was prepared.

Cuthbert passed much of the day, when not required upon the walls,
chatting with the Lady Margaret, who, attended by her maidens, sat
working in her bower. She had learnt to read from the good nuns of the
convent--an accomplishment which was by no means general, even among the
daughters of nobles; but books were rare, and Evesham boasted but few
manuscripts. Here Margaret learnt in full all the details of Cuthbert's
adventures since leaving England, and the fondness with which as a child
she had regarded the lad grew gradually into the affection of a woman.

The courage of the garrison was high, for although they believed that
sooner or later the castle might be carried by the besiegers, they had
already been told by Cnut that there was a means of egress unknown to the
besiegers, and that when the time came they would be able to escape
unharmed. This, while it in no way detracted from their determination to
defend the castle to the last, yet rendered their task a far lighter and
more agreeable one than it would have been had they seen the gallows
standing before them as the end of the siege. As the testudo, as it was
called in those days, advanced towards the castle, the machines upon the
walls--catapults, mangonels, and arbalasts--poured forth showers of
stones and darts upon it, breaking up the array of shields and killing
many; and as these openings were made, the archers, seizing their time,
poured in volleys of arrows. The mercenaries, however, accustomed to war,
advanced steadily, and made good their footing beneath the castle wall,
and proceeded to rear their ladders. Here, although free from the action
of the machines, they were exposed to the hand missiles, which were
scarcely less destructive. In good order, and with firmness, however,
they reared the ladders, and mounted to the assault, covering themselves
as well as they could with their shields. In vain, however, did they
mount. The defenders poured down showers of boiling pitch and oil, which
penetrated the crevices of their armour, and caused intolerable torment.
Great stones were toppled over from the battlements upon them; and
sometimes the ladders, seized by the poles with hooks, were cast
backwards, with all upon them, on the throng below. For half-an-hour,
encouraged by the shouts of Sir Rudolph and their leaders, the soldiers
strove gallantly; but were at last compelled to draw off, having lost
nigh 100 men, without one gaining a footing upon the walls.

That evening another council of war was held without. Already some large
machines for which Sir Rudolph had sent had arrived. In anticipation of
the possibility of failure, two castles upon wheels had been prepared,
and between these a huge beam with an iron head was hung. This was upon
the following day pushed forward on the newly-formed ground across the
moat. Upon the upper part of each tower were armed men who worked
machines casting sheaves of arrows and other missiles. Below were those
who worked the ram. To each side of the beam were attached numerous
cords, and with these it was swung backwards and forwards, giving heavy
blows each stroke upon the wall. The machines for casting stones, which
had arrived, were also brought in play, and day and night these
thundered against the walls; while the ram repeated its ceaseless blows
upon the same spot, until the stone crumbled before it.

Very valiantly did the garrison oppose themselves to these efforts. But
each day showed the progress made by the besiegers. Their forces had been
increased, Prince John having ordered his captain at Gloucester to send
another 100 men to the assistance of Sir Rudolph. Other towers had now
been prepared. These were larger than the first, and overtopped the
castle walls. From the upper story were drawbridges, so formed as to drop
from the structures upon the walls, and thus enable the besiegers to rush
upon them. The process was facilitated by the fact that the battlements
had been shot away by the great stones, and there was a clear space on
which the drawbridges could fall. The attack was made with great vigour;
but for a long time the besieged maintained their post, and drove back
the assailants as they poured out across the drawbridges on to the wall.
At last Cuthbert saw that the forces opposed to him were too numerous to
be resisted, and gave orders to his men to fall back upon the inner keep.

Making one rush, and clearing the wall of those who had gained a footing,
the garrison fell back hastily, and were safely within the massive keep
before the enemy had mustered in sufficient numbers upon the wall to
interfere with them. The drawbridge was now lowered, and the whole of the
assailants gained footing within the castle. They were still far from
having achieved a victory. The walls of the keep were massive and strong,
and its top far higher than the walls, so that from above a storm of
arrows poured down upon all who ventured to show themselves. The keep had
no windows low enough down for access to be gained; and those on the
floors above were so narrow, and protected by bars, that it seemed by
scaling the walls alone could an entry be effected. This was far too
desperate an enterprise to be attempted, for the keep rose eighty feet
above the courtyard. It was upon the door, solid and studded with iron,
that the attempt had to be made.

Several efforts were made by Sir Rudolph, who fought with a bravery
worthy of a better cause, to assault and batter down the door. Protected
by wooden shields from the rain of missiles from above, he and his
knights hacked at the door with their battle-axes. But in vain. It had
been strengthened by beams behind, and by stones piled up against it.
Then fire was tried. Faggots were collected in the forest, and brought;
and a huge pile having been heaped against the door, it was lighted. "We
could doubtless prolong the siege for some days, Lady Margaret," said
Cuthbert, "but the castle is ours; and we wish not, when the time comes
that we shall again be masters of it, that it should be a mere heap of
ruins. Methinks we have done enough. With but small losses on our side,
we have killed great numbers of the enemy, and have held them at bay for
a month. Therefore, I think that tonight it will be well for us to leave
the place."

Lady Margaret was rejoiced at the news that the time for escape had come,
for the perpetual clash of war, the rattling of arrows, the ponderous
thud of heavy stones, caused a din very alarming to a young girl; and
although the room in which she sat, looking into the inner court of the
castle, was not exposed to missiles, she trembled at the thought that
brave men were being killed, and that at any moment a shot might strike
Cuthbert, and so leave her without a friend or protector.

Content with having destroyed the door, the assailants made no further
effort that evening, but prepared in the morning to attack it, pull
down the stones filled behind it, and force their way into the keep.
There was, with the exception of the main entrance, but one means of
exit, a small postern door behind the castle, and throughout the siege
a strong body of troops had been posted here, to prevent the garrison
making a sortie.

Feeling secure therefore that upon the following day his enemies would
fall into his power, Sir Rudolph retired to rest.

An hour before midnight the garrison assembled in the hall. The table was
removed, and Cuthbert having pressed the spring, which was at a distance
from the stone and could not be discovered without a knowledge of its
existence, the stone turned aside by means of a counterpoise, and a
flight of steps was seen. Torches had been prepared. Cnut and a chosen
band went first; Cuthbert followed, with Lady Margaret and her
attendants; and the rest of the archers brought up the rear, a trusty man
being left in charge at last with orders to swing back the stone into its
place, having first hauled the table over the spot, so that their means
of escape should be unknown.

The passage was long and dreary, the walls were damp with wet, and the
massive doors so swollen by moisture that it was with the greatest
difficulty they could be opened. At last, however, they emerged into the
little friary in the wood. It was deserted, the priest who usually dwelt
there having fled when the siege began. The stone which there, as in the
castle, concealed the exit, was carefully closed, and the party then
emerged into the open air. Here Cuthbert bade adieu to his comrades. Cnut
had very anxiously begged to be allowed to accompany him and share his
fortunes, and Cuthbert had promised him that if at any time he should
again take up arms in England, he would summon him to his side, but that
at present as he knew not whither his steps would be turned, it would be
better that he should be unattended. The archers had all agreed to
scatter far and wide through the country, many of them proceeding to
Nottingham and joining the bands in the forest of Sherwood.

Cuthbert himself had determined to make his way to the castle of his
friend, Sir Baldwin, and to leave the Lady Margaret in his charge. Cnut
hurried on at full speed to the house of a franklin, some three miles
distant. Here horses were obtained and saddled, and dresses prepared; and
when Cuthbert with Lady Margaret arrived there, no time was lost. Dressed
as a yeoman, with the Lady Margaret as his sister, he mounted a horse,
with her behind him on a pillion. The other damsels also mounted, as it
would not have been safe for them to remain near Evesham. They therefore
purposed taking refuge in a convent near Gloucester for the present.
Bidding a hearty adieu to Cnut, and with thanks to the franklin who had
aided them, they set forward on their journey. By morning they had
reached the convent, and here the two girls were left, and Cuthbert
continued his journey. He left his charge at a convent a day's ride
distant from the castle of Sir Baldwin, as he wished to consult the
knight first as to the best way of her entering the castle without
exciting talk or suspicion.

Sir Baldwin received him with joy. He had heard something of his doings,
and the news of the siege of Evesham had been noised abroad. He told him
that he was in communication with many other barons, and that ere long
they hoped to rise against the tyranny of Prince John, but that at
present they were powerless, as many, hoping that King Richard would
return ere long, shrank from involving the country in a civil war. When
Cuthbert told him that the daughter of his old friend was at a convent
but a day's ride distant, and that he sought protection for her, Sir
Baldwin instantly offered her hospitality.

"I will," he said, "send my good wife to fetch her. Some here know your
presence, and it would be better therefore that she did not arrive for
some days, as her coming will then seem to be unconnected with yourself.
My wife and I will, a week hence, give out that we are going to fetch a
cousin of my wife's to stay here with her; and when we return no
suspicion will be excited that she is other than she seems. Should it be
otherwise, I need not say that Sir Baldwin of B,thune will defend his
castle against any of the minions of Prince John. But I have no fear that
her presence here will be discovered. What think you of doing in the

"I am thinking," Cuthbert said, "of going east. No news has been obtained
of our lord the king save that he is a prisoner in the hands of the
emperor; but where confined, or how, we know not. It is my intent to
travel to the Tyrol, and to trace his steps from the time that he was
captured. Then, when I obtain knowledge of the place where he is kept, I
will return, and consult upon the best steps to be taken. My presence in
England is now useless. Did the barons raise the standard of King Richard
against the prince, I should at once return and join them. But without
land or vassals, I can do nothing here, and shall be indeed like a hunted
hare, for I know that the false earl will move heaven and earth to
capture me."

Sir Baldwin approved of the resolution; but recommended Cuthbert to take
every precaution not to fall himself into the hands of the emperor;
"for," he said, "if we cannot discover the prison of King Richard, I fear
that it would be hopeless indeed ever to attempt to find that in which a
simple knight is confined."



The following day, with many thanks Cuthbert started from the castle, and
in the first place visited the convent, and told Lady Margaret that she
would be fetched in a few days by Sir Baldwin and his wife. He took a
tender adieu of her, not without many forebodings and tears upon her
part; but promising blithely that he would return and lead her back in
triumph to her castle, he bade adieu and rode for London.

He had attired himself as a merchant, and took up his abode at a hostelry
near Cheapside. Here he remained quietly for some days, and, mixing among
the people, learnt that in London as elsewhere the rapacity of Prince
John had rendered him hateful to the people, and that they would gladly
embrace any opportunity of freeing themselves from his yoke. He was
preparing to leave for France, when the news came to him that Prince John
had summoned all the barons faithful to him to meet him near London, and
had recalled all his mercenaries from different parts of the country, and
was gathering a large army; also, that the barons faithful to King
Richard, alarmed by the prospect, had raised the royal standard, and that
true men were hurrying to their support. This entirely destroyed the
plans that he had formed. Taking horse again, and avoiding the main road,
by which he might meet the hostile barons on their way to London, he
journeyed down to Nottingham. Thence riding boldly into the forest, he
sought the outlaws, and was not long ere he found them. At his request he
was at once taken before their leader, a man of great renown both for
courage and bowmanship, one Robin Hood. This bold outlaw had long held at
defiance the Sheriff of Nottingham, and had routed him and all bodies of
troops who had been sent against him. With him Cuthbert found many of his
own men; and upon hearing that the royal standard had been raised, Robin
Hood at once agreed to march with all his men to join the royal force.
Messengers were despatched to summon the rest of the forest band from
their hiding places, and a week later Cuthbert, accompanied by Robin Hood
and 300 archers, set out for the rendezvous. When they arrived there they
found that Sir Baldwin had already joined with his retainers, and was by
him most warmly received, and introduced to the other barons in the camp,
by whom Cuthbert was welcomed as a brother. The news that Prince John's
army was approaching was brought in, a fortnight after Cuthbert had
joined the camp, and the army in good order moved out to meet the enemy.

The forces were about equal. The battle began by a discharge of arrows;
but Robin Hood and his men shot so true and fast that they greatly
discomfited the enemy; and King John's mercenaries having but little
stomach for the fight, and knowing how unpopular they were in England,
and that if defeated small mercy was likely to be shown to them, refused
to advance against the ranks of the loyal barons, and falling back
declined to join in the fray. Seeing their numbers so weakened by this
defection, the barons on the prince's side hesitated, and surrounding the
prince advised him to make terms with the barons while there was yet
time. Prince John saw that the present was not a favourable time for him,
and concealing his fury under a mask of courtesy, he at once acceded to
the advice of his followers, and despatched a messenger to the barons
with an inquiry as to what they wanted of him. A council was held, and it
was determined to demand the dismissal of the mercenaries and their
despatch back to their own country; also that John would govern only as
his brother's representative; that the laws of the country should be
respected; that no taxes should be raised without the assent of the
barons; that all men who had taken up arms against his authority should
be held free; and that the barons on Prince John's side should return
peaceably home and disband their forces. Seeing, under the circumstances,
that there was no way before him but to yield to these demands, Prince
John accepted the terms. The mercenaries were ordered to march direct to
London, and orders were given that ships should be at once prepared to
take them across to Normandy, and the barons marched for their homes.

Satisfied, now that the mercenaries were gone, that they could
henceforth hold their ground against Prince John, the royal barons also
broke up their forces. Robin Hood with his foresters returned to
Sherwood; and Cuthbert, bidding adieu to Sir Baldwin, rode back to
London, determined to carry out the plan which he had formed. He was the
more strengthened in this resolution, inasmuch as in the royal camp he
had met a friend from whom he parted last in the Holy Land. This was
Blondel, the minstrel of King Richard, whose songs and joyous music had
often lightened the evening after days of fighting and toil in
Palestine. To him Cuthbert confided his intention, and the minstrel
instantly offered to accompany him.

"I shall," he said, "be of assistance to you. Minstrels are like heralds.
They are of no nationality, and can pass free where a man at arms would
be closely watched and hindered. Moreover, it may be that I might aid you
greatly in discovering the prison of the king. So great is the secrecy
with which this has been surrounded, that I question if any inquiries you
could make would enable you to trace him. My voice, however, can
penetrate into places where we cannot enter. I will take with me my lute,
and as we journey I will sing outside the walls of each prison we come to
one of the songs which I sang in Palestine. King Richard is himself a
singer and knows my songs as well as myself. If I sing a verse of some
song which I wrote there and which, therefore, would be known only to
him, if he hears it he may follow with the next verse, and so enable us
to know of his hiding place."

Cuthbert at once saw the advantages which such companionship would bring
him, and joyfully accepted the minstrel's offer, agreeing himself to go
as serving man to Blondel. The latter accompanied him to London. Here
their preparations were soon made, and taking ship in a merchantman bound
for the Netherlands, they started without delay upon their adventure.

The minstrels and troubadours were at that time a privileged race in
Europe, belonging generally to the south of France, although produced in
all lands. They travelled over Europe singing the lays which they
themselves had composed, and were treated with all honour at the
castles where they chose to alight. It would have been considered as
foul a deed to use discourtesy to a minstrel as to insult a herald. Their
persons were, indeed, regarded as sacred, and the knights and barons
strove to gain their good will by hospitality and presents, as a large
proportion of their ballads related to deeds of war; and while they
would write lays in honour of those who courteously entertained them,
they did not hesitate to heap obloquy upon those who received them
discourteously, holding them up to the gibes and scoffs of their
fellows. In no way, therefore, would success be so likely to attend the
mission of those who set out to discover the hiding place of King
Richard as under the guise of a minstrel and his attendant. No questions
would be asked them; they could halt where they would, in castle or
town, secure of hospitality and welcome. Blondel was himself a native of
the south of France, singing his songs in the soft language of
Languedoc. Cuthbert's Norman French would pass muster anywhere as being
that of a native of France; and although when dressed as a servitor
attention might be attracted by his bearing, his youth might render it
probable that he was of noble family, but that he had entered the
service of the minstrel in order to qualify himself some day for
following that career. He carried a long staff, a short sword, and at
his back the lute or small harp played upon by the troubadour. Blondel's
attire was rich, and suitable to a person of high rank.

They crossed to the Scheldt, and thence travelled by the right bank of
the Rhine as far as Mannheim, sometimes journeying by boat, sometimes on
foot. They were also hospitably entertained, and were considered to more
than repay their hosts by the songs which Blondel sang. At Mannheim they
purchased two horses, and then struck east for Vienna. The journey was
not without danger, for a large portion of this part of Europe was under
no settled government, each petty baron living in his own castle, and
holding but slight allegiance to any feudal lord, making war upon his
neighbour on his own account, levying blackmail from travellers, and
perpetually at variance with the burghers of the towns. The hills were
covered with immense forests, which stretched for many leagues in all
directions, and these were infested by wolves, bears, and robbers. The
latter, however, although men without pity or religion, yet held the
troubadours in high esteem, and the travellers without fear entered the
gloomy shades of the forest.

They had not gone far when their way was barred by a number of armed men.

"I am a minstrel," Blondel said, "and as such doubt not that your
courtesy will be extended to me."

"Of a surety," the leader said, "the gay science is as much loved and
respected in the greenwood as in the castle; and moreover, the purses of
those who follow it are too light to offer any temptation to us. We would
pray you, however, to accompany us to our leader, who will mightily
rejoice to see you, for he loves music, and will gladly be your host so
long as you will stay with him."

Blondel, without objection, turned his horse's head and accompanied the
men, followed by Cuthbert. After half an hour's travelling, they came to
a building which had formerly been a shrine, but which was now converted
to the robbers' headquarters. The robber chief on hearing from his
followers the news that a minstrel had arrived, came forward to meet him,
and courteously bade him welcome.

"I am Sir Adelbert, of Rotherheim," he said, "although you see me in so
poor a plight. My castle and lands have been taken by my neighbour, with
whom for generations my family have been at feud. I was in the Holy Land
with the emperor, and on my return found that the baron had taken the
opportunity of my absence, storming my castle and seizing my lands. In
vain I petitioned the emperor to dispossess this traitorous baron of my
lands, which by all the laws of Christendom should have been respected
during my absence. The emperor did indeed send a letter to the baron to
deliver them up to me; but his power here is but nominal, and the baron
contemptuously threw the royal proclamation into the fire, and told the
messenger that what he had taken by the sword he would hold the sword;
and the emperor, having weightier matters on hand than to set troops in
motion to redress the grievances of a simple knight, gave the matter no
further thought. I have therefore been driven to the forest, where I live
as best I may with my followers, most of whom were retainers upon my
estate, and some my comrades in the Holy Land. I make war upon the rich
and powerful, and beyond that do harm to no man. But, methinks," he
continued, "I know your face, gentle sir."

"It may well be so, Sir Adelbert," the minstrel said, "for I too was
in the Holy Land. I followed the train of King Richard, and mayhap at
some of the entertainments given by him you have seen my face. My name
is Blondel."

"I remember now," the knight said. "It was at Acre that I first saw you,
and if I remember rightly you can wield the sword as well as the lute."

"One cannot always be playing and singing," Blondel said, "and in lack of
amusement I was forced to do my best against the infidel, who indeed
would have but little respected my art had I fallen into his hands. The
followers of the prophet hold minstrels but in slight reverence."

"What is the news of King Richard?" the knight said. "I have heard that
he was lost on the voyage homewards."

"It is not so," Blondel said. "He landed safely on the coast, and was
journeying north with a view of joining his sister at the Court of
Saxony, when he was foully seized and imprisoned by the Archduke John."

"That were gross shame indeed," the knight said, "and black treachery on
the part of Duke John. And where is the noble king imprisoned?"

"That," said Blondel, "no man knows. On my journey hither I have gathered
that the emperor claimed him from the hand of the Archduke, and that he
is imprisoned in one of the royal fortresses; but which, I know not. And
indeed, sir knight, since you are well disposed towards him, I may tell
you that the purport of my journey is to discover if I can the place of
his confinement. He was a kind and noble master, and however long my
search may be, I will yet obtain news of him."

The knight warmly applauded the troubadour's resolution, and was turning
to lead him into his abode, when his eye fell upon Cuthbert.

"Methinks I know the face of your attendant as well as your own; though
where I can have seen him I know not. Was he with you in the Holy Land?"

"Yes," Blondel said, "the youth was also there; and doubtless you may
have noticed him, for he is indeed of distinguished and of good family."

"Then let him share our repast," the knight said, "if it seems good to
you. In these woods there is no rank, and I myself have long dropped my
knightly title, and shall not reassume it until I can pay off my score to
the Baron of Rotherheim, and take my place again in my castle."

The minstrel and Cuthbert were soon seated at the table with the knight
and one or two of his principal companions. A huge venison pasty formed
the staple of the repast, but hares and other small game were also upon
the table. Nor was the generous wine of the country wanting.

The knight had several times glanced at Cuthbert, and at last exclaimed,
"I have it now. This is no attendant, sir minstrel, but that valiant
young knight who so often rode near King Richard in battle. He is, as I
guess, your companion in this quest; is it not so?"

"It is," Cuthbert replied frankly. "I am like yourself, a disinherited
knight, and my history resembles yours. Upon my return to England I found
another in possession of the land and titles that belonged to the noble I
followed, and which King Richard bestowed upon me. The Earl of Evesham
was doubtless known to you, and before his death King Richard, at his
request, bestowed upon me as his adopted son--although but a distant
connexion--his title and lands and the hand of his daughter. Prince John,
who now rules in England, had however granted these things to one of his
favourites, and he having taken possession of the land and title, though
not, happily, of the lady, closed his door somewhat roughly in my face. I
found means, however, to make my mark upon him; but as our quarrel could
not be fought out to the end, and as the false knight had the aid of
Prince John, I am forced for a while to postpone our settlement, and
meeting my good friend the minstrel, agreed to join him in his enterprise
to discover our lord the king."

The knight warmly grasped Cuthbert's hand.

"I am glad," he said, "to meet so true and valiant a knight. I have often
wondered at the valour with which you, although so young, bore yourself;
and there were tales afloat of strange adventures which you had undergone
in captivity for a time among the infidels."

At Sir Adelbert's request, Cuthbert related the story of his adventures
among the Saracens; and then Blondel, tuning his lute, sang several
canzonets which he had composed in the Holy Land, of feats of arms and

"How far are you," Cuthbert asked presently, when Blondel laid his lute
aside, "from the estates which were wrongfully wrested from you?"

"But twenty leagues," the knight said. "My castle was on the Rhine,
between Coblentz and Mannheim."

"Does the baron know that you are so near?" Cuthbert asked.

"Methinks that he does not," the knight replied, "but that he deems me to
have gone to the court of the emperor to seek for redress--which, he
guesses, I shall certainly fail to obtain."

"How many men have you with you?" Cuthbert asked.

"Fifty men, all good and true," the knight said.

"Has it never entered your thoughts to attempt a surprise upon his
castle?" Cuthbert said.

The knight was silent for a minute.

"At times," he said at length, "thoughts of so doing have occurred to
me; but the castle is strong, and a surprise would be difficult indeed."

"If the baron is lulled in security at present," Cuthbert said, "and
deems you afar off, the watch is likely to be relaxed, and with a sudden
onslaught you might surely obtain possession. Blondel and myself are not
pressed for time, and the delay of a few days can make but little
difference. If, therefore, you think we could be of assistance to you in
such an attempt, my sword, and I am sure that of my friend, would be at
your disposal."

The knight sat for some time in silence.

"Thanks, generous knight," he said at last, "I am sorely tempted to avail
myself of your offer; but I fear that the enterprise is hopeless. The
aid, however, of your arm and knowledge of war would greatly add to my
chances, and if it pleases you we will ride to-morrow to a point where we
can obtain a sight of the baron's castle. When you see it, you shall
judge yourself how far such an enterprise as you propose is possible."

"Is your own castle intact?" Cuthbert asked.

"The walls are standing," he said; "but a breach has been made in them,
and at present it is wholly deserted."

"Do you think," Cuthbert asked, "that if you succeeded in surprising and
defeating the garrison of the castle that you could then regain your own,
and hold it against your enemy?"

"I think that I could," Sir Adelbert said. "The baron's domains are but
little larger than my own. Many of my retainers still live upon the
estate, and would; I am sure, gladly join me, if I were to raise my flag.
The baron, too, is hated by his neighbours, and could I inflict a
crushing blow upon him, methinks it would be so long a time before he
could assemble a force, that I might regain my castle and put it in an
attitude of defence before he could take the field against me."

"If," Cuthbert said, "we could surprise the castle, it might well be that
the baron would fall into your hands, and in that case you might be able
to make your own terms with him. How strong a force is he likely to have
in his castle?"

"Some fifty or sixty men," the knight replied; "for with such a force he
could hold the castle against an attack of ten times their number, and he
could in twelve hours call in his retainers, and raise the garrison to
300 or 400 men."

Blondel warmly assented to Cuthbert's scheme, and it was settled that at
daybreak they should start to view the Castle of Rotherheim. At early
dawn they were in the saddle, and the three rode all day, until towards
sunset they stood on the crest of a hill looking down into the valley of
the Rhine.

The present aspect of that valley affords but a slight idea of its beauty
in those days. The slopes are now clad with vineyards, which, although
picturesque in idea, are really, to look at from a distance, no better
than so many turnip fields. The vines are planted in rows and trained to
short sticks, and as these rows follow the declivities of the hillside,
they are run in all directions, and the whole mountain side, from the
river far up, is cut up into little patches of green lines. In those days
the mountains were clad with forests, which descended nearly to the river
side. Here and there, upon craggy points, were situate the fortalices of
the barons. Little villages nestled in the woods, or stood by the river
bank, and a fairer scene could not be witnessed in Europe.

"That is Rotherheim," the knight said, pointing to a fortress standing on
a crag, which rose high above the woods around it; "and that," he said,
pointing to another some four miles away, similarly placed, "is my own."

Cuthbert examined closely the fortress of Rotherheim. It was a large
building, with towers at the angles, and seemed to rise almost abruptly
from the edge of the rock. Inside rose the gables and round turrets of
the dwelling-place of the baron; and the only access was by a steep
winding path on the river side.

"It is indeed a strong place," Cuthbert said, "and difficult to take by
surprise. A watch no doubt is always kept over the entrance, and there we
can hope for no success. The only plan will be to scale the wall by means
of a ladder; but how the ladder is to be got to so great a height, I own
at present passes my comprehension." After much thought, Cuthbert went
on, "It might, methinks, be practicable for an archer to approach the
walls, and to shoot an arrow over the angle of the castle so that it
would pass inside the turret there, and fall in the forest beyond. If to
this arrow were attached a light cord, it could be gained by one on the
other side, and a stronger cord hauled over. To this could be attached a
rope ladder, and so this could be raised to the top of the wall. If a
sentinel were anywhere near he might hear the rope pulled across the
battlements; but if as we may hope, a watch is kept only over the
entrance, the operation might be performed without attracting notice."

The knight was delighted with the project, which seemed perfectly
feasible, and it was agreed that the attempt should be made.

"It will need," Sir Adelbert said, "an archer with a strong arm indeed to
shoot an arrow with a cord attached to it, however light, over the corner
of the castle."

"Methinks," Cuthbert said, "that I can do that, for as a lad I was used
to the strong bows of my country. The first thing, however, will be to
obtain such a bow; but doubtless one can be purchased in one of the
towns, which, if not so strong as those to which I was accustomed, will
at any rate suffice for us."

The party bivouacked in the woods for the night, for the horses had
already done a very long journey, and needed rest before starting back
for the Black Forest. At daybreak, however, they started, and at
nightfall rejoined their band. These were delighted when they heard the
scheme that had been set on foot, and all avowed their eagerness to join
in the attempt to restore their lord to his rights.

Two days later they set out, having already procured from the nearest
town a strong bow, some arrows, a very light rope, and a stronger one
from a portion of which they manufactured a rope ladder capable of
reaching from the top of the wall to the rock below. The journey this
time occupied two days, as the men on foot were unable to march at the
pace at which the mounted party had traversed the ground. The evening
of the second day, however, saw them in sight of the castle. By
Cuthbert's advice, Sir Adelbert determined to give them twenty-four
hours of rest, in order that they might have their full strength for
undertaking the task before them. During the day, Cuthbert, guided by
the knight, made his way through the woods to the foot of the rocks on
which the castle stood. They were extremely steep, but could be mounted
by active men if unopposed from above. Cuthbert measured the height
with his eye from the top of the castle wall to the place which he
selected as most fitting from which to shoot the arrow, and announced
to the knight that he thought there would be no difficulty in
discharging an arrow over the angle.

At nightfall the whole party made their way silently through the woods.
Three men were sent round to the side of the castle opposite that from
which Cuthbert was to shoot. The length of light string was carefully
coiled on the ground, so as to unwind with the greatest facility, and so
offer as little resistance to the flight of the arrow as might be. Then,
all being in readiness, Cuthbert attached the end to an arrow, and
drawing the bow to its full compass, let fly the arrow. All held their
breath; but no sound followed the discharge. They were sure, therefore,
that the arrow had not struck the wall, but that it must have passed
clear over it. Half-an-hour elapsed before they felt that the cord was
pulled, and knew that the men upon the other side had succeeded in
finding the arrow and string attached. The stronger cord was now fastened
to that which the arrow had carried, and this gradually disappeared in
the darkness. A party now stole up the rock, and posted themselves at the
foot of the castle wall. They took with them the coil of rope-ladder and
the end of the rope. At length the rope tightened, and to the end they
attached the ladder. This again ascended until the end only remained upon
the ground, and they knew that it must have reached the top of the wall.
They now held fast, and knew that those on the other side, following the
instructions given them, would have fastened the rope to a tree upon the
opposite side. They were now joined by the rest of the party, and Sir
Adelbert leading the way, and followed by Cuthbert and Blondel, began
cautiously to ascend the rope ladder.

All this time no sound from the castle proclaimed that their intention
was suspected, or that any alarm had been given, and in silence they
gained the top of the wall. Here they remained quiet until the whole band
were gathered there, and then made their way along until they reached the
stairs leading to the courtyard. These they descended, and then, raising
his war cry, Sir Adelbert sprang upon the men who, round a fire, were
sitting by the gate. These were cut down before they could leap to their
feet, and the party then rushed at the entrance to the dwelling-house.
The retainers of the castle, aroused by the sudden din, rushed from their
sleeping places, but taken completely by surprise, were unable to offer
any resistance whatever to the strong force which had, as if by magic,
taken possession of the castle. The surprise was complete, and with
scarce a blow struck they found themselves in possession. The baron
himself was seized as he rose from his bed, and his rage at finding
himself in the power of his enemy was so great as for some time to render
him speechless. Sir Adelbert briefly dictated to him the conditions upon
which only he should desist from using his power to hang him over his own
gate. The baron was instantly to issue orders to all his own retainers
and tenantry to lend their aid to those of Sir Adelbert in putting the
castle of the latter into a state of defence and mending the breach which
existed. A sum of money, equal to the revenues of which he had possessed
himself, was to be paid at once, and the knight was to retain possession
of Rotherheim and of the baron's person until these conditions were all
faithfully carried out. The baron had no resource but to assent to these
terms, and upon the following day Cuthbert and Blondel departed upon
their way, overwhelmed with thanks by Sir Adelbert, and confident that he
would now be able to regain and hold the possession of his estate.



Journeying onward, Blondel and his companion stopped at many castles, and
were everywhere hospitably entertained. Arriving at Vienna they lingered
for some time, hoping there to be able to obtain some information of the
whereabouts of King Richard. Blondel in his songs artfully introduced
allusions to the captive monarch and to the mourning of all Christendom
at the imprisonment of its champion. These allusions were always well
received, and he found that the great bulk of the nobles of the empire
were indignant and ashamed at the conduct of the emperor in imprisoning
his illustrious rival. The secret of his prison place, however, appeared
to have been so well kept that no information whatever was obtainable.

"We must carry out our original plan," he said at length, "and journey
into the Tyrol. In one of the fortresses there he is most likely to be

Leaving the capital they wandered up into the mountains for weeks,
visiting one castle after another. It was no easy matter in all cases to
get so near to these prisons as to give a hope that their voice might be
heard within, or an answer received without. More than once cross-bow
bolts were shot at them from the walls when they did not obey the
sentinel's challenge and move further away. Generally, however, it was in
the day time that they sang. Wandering carelessly up, they would sit down
within earshot of the castle, open their wallets, and take out
provisions from their store, and then, having eaten and drunk, Blondel
would produce his lute and sing, as if for his own pleasure. It needed,
however, four visits to each castle before they could be sure that the
captive was not there; for the song had to be sung on each side.
Sometimes they would cheat themselves with the thought that they heard an
answering voice; but it was not until the end of the fourth week, when
singing outside the castle of Diernstein, that a full rich voice, when
Blondel ceased, sang out the second stanza of the poem. With difficulty
Blondel and Cuthbert restrained themselves from an extravagant exhibition
of joy. They knew, however, that men on the prison wall were watching
them as they sat singing, and Blondel, with a final strain taken from a
ballad of a knight who, having discovered the hiding place of his
ladylove, prepared to free her from her oppressors, shouldered his lute,
and they started on their homeward journey.

There was no delay now. At times they sang indeed at castles; but only
when their store was exhausted, for upon these occasions Blondel would
be presented with a handsome goblet or other solid token of the owner's
approval, and the sale of this at the next city would take them far on
their way. They thought it better not to pass through France, as
Philip, they knew, was on the watch to prevent any news of King Richard
reaching England. They therefore again passed through Brabant, and so
by ship to England.

Hearing that Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, one of Richard's vicegerents, was
over in Normandy, and rightly deeming him the most earnest of his
adherents, they at once recrossed the sea, and found the warlike prelate
at Rouen. Greatly delighted was he at hearing that Richard's hiding-place
had been discovered. He at once sent across the news to England, and
ordered it to be published far and wide, and himself announced it to the
barons of Normandy. Then with a gorgeous retinue, including Cuthbert and
Blondel, he started for Vienna, and arriving there demanded an interview
with the emperor.

The news that it was now certain that Richard was imprisoned in a castle
of the emperor, had already spread through Europe, and the bishop had
been received everywhere with tokens of sympathy; and so great was the
feeling shown by the counts and barons of the empire, that the Emperor
Henry felt that he could no longer refuse to treat for the surrender of
his captive. Therefore he granted the interview which Longchamp
demanded. The English envoy was received by the emperor surrounded by his
nobles. The prelate advanced with great dignity.

"I come," he said, "in the name of the people of England to demand the
restoration of King Richard, most unjustly and unknightly detained a
prisoner in his passage through your dominions."

"King Richard was my foe," the emperor said, "open and secret, and I was
justified in detaining one who is alike my enemy and a scourge to Europe
as a prisoner, when fortune threw him in my hands. I am, however, willing
to put him to a ransom, and will upon the payment of 150,000 marks allow
him to go free."

"I deny your right to detain him or to put him to ransom," the bishop
said. "But as you have the power, so my denial is useless. England is
poor, impoverished with war and by the efforts which she made in the
service of our holy religion. Nevertheless, poor as she is, she will
raise the sum you demand. There is not an Englishman who will not furnish
all he can afford for the rescue of our king. But once again, in the
presence of your nobles, I denounce your conduct as base and unkingly."

The emperor could with difficulty restrain his passion; but the sight of
the sombre visages of his nobles showed that they shared in no slight
degree the feelings which the English envoy had so boldly announced.

"Before, however," the emperor said, "I surrender King Richard, he
must be tried by my peers of many and various crimes of which he is
accused. Should he be found guilty of these, no gold can purchase his
release. Should he, however, be acquitted, then as my word is given so
shall it be."

"Although," the prelate said, "I deny your right to try our king, and
believe that he himself will refuse to accept your jurisdiction, yet I
fear not the result if our lord be left in the hands of the nobles of
the empire and not in yours. I can trust their honour and courtesy."

And turning upon his heel, without another word he quitted the apartment.

An hour later the bishop and his following took horse and rode with all
speed to the north coast, and thence sailed for England. The news of the
amount of ransom filled the people with consternation; but preparations
were at once made for collecting the sum demanded. Queen Eleanor was
unceasing in her efforts to raise the money for the release of her
favourite son. The nobles contributed their jewels and silver; the people
gave contributions of goods, for money was so scarce in England that few
had the wherewithal to pay in coin. Prince John placed every obstacle in
the way of the collection; but the barons had since their successful
stand obtained the upper hand, and it was by intrigue only that he could
hinder the collection.

In the meantime, popular opinion throughout Europe was strong upon the
side of King Richard. The pope himself wrote to the emperor on his
behalf. The barons of the empire were indignant at the shame placed upon
their country; and the emperor, although he would fain have thrown
further delays in the way, was obliged at last to order the first step
to be taken.

A solemn diet was ordered to assemble at Worms. Here were collected all
the nobles of the empire, and before them King Richard was brought. It
was a grand assembly. Upon a raised throne on the dais sat the emperor
himself, and beside him and near him were the great feudatories of the
empire, and along the sides of the walls were ranged in long rows the
lesser barons. When the doors were opened and King Richard entered, the
whole assembly, save the emperor, rose in respect to the captive monarch.
Although pale from his long confinement, the proud air of Richard was in
no way abated, and the eyes that had flashed so fearlessly upon the
Saracens looked as sternly down the long lines of the barons of Germany.
Of splendid stature and physique, King Richard was unquestionably the
finest man of his time. He was handsome, with a frank face, but with a
fierce and passionate eye. He wore his moustache with a short beard and
closely-cut whisker. His short curly hair was cropped closely to his
head, upon which he wore a velvet cap with gold coronet, while a scarlet
robe lined with fur fell over his coat of mail, for the emperor had
deemed it imprudent to excite the feeling of the assembly in favour of
the prisoner by depriving him of the symbols of his rank.

King Richard strode to the place prepared for him, and then turning to
the assembly he said, in a voice which rang through the hall,--

"Counts and lords of the Empire of Germany, I, Richard, King of England,
do deny your right to try me. I am a king, and can only be tried by my
peers and by the pope, who is the head of Christendom. I might refuse to
plead, refuse to take any part in this assembly, and appeal to the pope,
who alone has power to punish kings. But I will waive my rights. I rely
upon the honour and probity of the barons of Germany. I have done no man
wrong, and would appear as fearlessly before an assembly of peasants as
before a gathering of barons. Such faults as I may have, and none are
without them, are not such as those with which I am charged. I have slain
many men in anger, but none by treachery. When Richard of England
strikes, he strikes in the light of day. He leaves poison and treachery
to his enemies, and I hurl back with indignation and scorn in the teeth
of him who makes them the charges brought against me."

So saying King Richard took his seat amidst a murmur of applause from the
crowded hall.

The trial then commenced. The accusations against Richard were of many
kinds. Chief among them was the murder of Conrad of Montferat; but there
were charges of having brought the crusade to naught by thwarting the
general plans, by his arrogance in refusing to be bound by the decision
of the other leaders, and by having made a peace contrary to the
interests of the crusaders. The list was a long one; but the evidence
adduced was pitiably weak. Beyond the breath of suspicion, no word of
real evidence connecting him with the murder of Conrad of Montferat was
adduced, and the other charges were supported by no better evidence. Many
of the German barons who had been at the crusades themselves came
forward to testify to the falsity of these charges, and the fact that
Richard had himself placed Conrad of Montferat upon the throne, and had
no possible interest in his death, was alone more than sufficient to
nullify the vague rumours brought against him. Richard himself in a few
scornful words disposed of this accusation. The accusation that he,
Richard of England, would stoop to poison a man whom he could have
crushed in an instant, was too absurd to be seriously treated.

"I am sure," the king said, "that not one person here believes this idle
tale. That I did not always agree with the other leaders is true; but I
call upon every one here to say whether, had they listened to me and
followed my advice, the crusade would not have had another ending. Even
after Phillip of France had withdrawn; even after I had been deserted by
John of Austria, I led the troops of the crusaders from every danger and
every difficulty to within sight of the walls of Jerusalem. Had I been
supported with zeal, the holy city would have been ours; but the apathy,
the folly, and the weakness of the leaders brought ruin upon the army.
They thought not of conquering Jerusalem, but of thwarting me; and I
retort upon them the charge of having sacrificed the success of the
crusade. As to the terms of peace, how were they made? I, with some fifty
knights and 1000 followers alone remained in the Holy Land. Who else, I
ask, so circumstanced, could have obtained any terms whatever from
Saladin? It was the weight of my arm alone which saved Jaffa and Acre,
and the line of seacoast, to the Cross. And had I followed the example
set me by him of Austria and the Frenchman, not one foot of the Holy Land
would now remain in Christian hands."

The trial was soon over, and without a single dissentient the King of
England was acquitted of all the charges brought against him. But the
money was not yet raised, and King Richard was taken back into the heart
of Germany. At length, by prodigious exertions, half the amount claimed
was collected, and upon the solicitations of the pope and of the counts
of his own empire, the emperor consented to release Richard upon, receipt
of this sum and his royal promise that the remainder should be made up.

Not as yet, however, were the intrigues at an end. Prince John and King
Phillip alike implored the emperor to retain his captive, and offered to
him a larger sum than the ransom if he would still hold him in his hands.
Popular opinion was, however, too strong. When the news of these
negotiations became bruited abroad, the counts of the empire, filled with
indignation, protested against this shame and dishonour being brought
upon the country. The pope threatened him with excommunication; and at
last the emperor, feeling that he would risk his throne did he further
insist, was forced to open the prison gates and let the king free.
Cuthbert, Blondel, and a few other trusty friends were at hand, and their
joy at receiving their long-lost sovereign was indeed intense. Horses had
been provided in readiness, and without a moment's delay the king
started, for even at the last moment it was feared that the emperor might
change his mind. This indeed was the case. The king had not started many
hours, when the arrival of fresh messengers from Phillip and John induced
the emperor once more to change his intentions, and a body of men were
sent in pursuit of the king. The latter fortunately made no stay on the
way, but changing horses frequently--for everywhere he was received with
honour and attention--he pushed forward for the coast of the North Sea,
and arrived there two or three hours only before his oppressors.
Fortunately it was night, and taking a boat he embarked without a
moment's delay; and when the emissaries of the emperor arrived the boat
was already out of sight, and in the darkness pursuit was hopeless.

On landing at Dover, the first to present himself before him was Prince
John, who, in the most abject terms besought pardon for the injuries he
had inflicted. King Richard waved him contemptuously aside.

"Go," he said, "and may I forget your injuries as speedily as you will
forget my pardon."

Then taking horse, he rode on to London, where he was received with the
most lively acclamation by his subjects.

The first step of King Richard was to dispossess all the minions of John
from the castles and lands which had been taken from his faithful
adherents. Some of these resisted; but their fortresses were speedily
stormed. Sir Rudolph was not one of these. Immediately the news of King
Richard's arrival in England reached him, feeling that all was now lost,
he rode to the seacoast, took ship, and passed into France, and Cuthbert,
on his arrival at Evesham, found himself undisputed lord of the place. He
found that the hiding-place of his mother had not been discovered, and,
after a short delay to put matters in train, he, attended by a gallant
retinue, rode into Wiltshire to the castle of Sir Baldwin of B,thune.
Here he found the Lady Margaret safe and sound, and mightily pleased to
see him. She was now seventeen, and offered no objections whatever to the
commands of King Richard that she should at once bestow her hand upon the
Earl of Evesham. By the king's order, the wedding took place at London,
the king himself bestowing the bride upon his faithful follower, whom we
may now leave to the enjoyment of the fortune and wife he had so
valiantly won.


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