[image]"A TORCH WAS THRUST CLOSE TO EDGAR'S FACE""I know not the varlet," he growled, and Edgar recognized the voice of the man who had first spoken and who had admitted himself to be Eustace de Brin. "He seemeth not to belong to these dogs of peasants who would dearly love to bite the hand of their master an they got the chance. Here, camarade, perchance this is one of the hounds thou hast feared might be on thy track."A man who had held aloof from the struggle came forward at the call, and Edgar, whose head had now been released from its intolerable strain, had no difficulty in recognizing, in spite of his bandages, the fierce eyes and harsh visage of Sir Gervaise de Maupas. The recognition was mutual, for with a shout of astonishment and savage joy, the knight cried:"It is! It is! This is none other than that braggart esquire of whom I told thee, Eustace.""What! The boy who gave thee that clout in the lists that nearly sent thee where thou art so eagerly awaited?" cried De Brin with a loud laugh."Nay, Eustace," cried De Maupas, giving the speaker no very friendly look. "He is the boy who played me a base trick that by an unfortunate mischance I could not frustrate. But he will play me no more. Give him to me, Eustace, as an earnest of the goodwill thou hast so often spoken of, but of which I have seen little enough solid evidence; as some slight return, too, for the many profitable ventures I have put thee in the way of.""Well, well, we will talk more of that anon, camarade Gervaise. The disposal of the boy's body is nothing to me, so long as he is punished for his insolent daring in scaling the walls of my castle; but first I must know how we stand in this business. D'ye know the other man?"Peter was next examined. "Yes," growled the knight, "this dog is one of the plotters. He is somewhat of a cripple--Baulch hath told me of him--but is not too crippled to give us trouble. Guard him well, Eustace, or thou wilt regret it.""Ha! ha! ha! friend Gervaise, thou wilt, when thou know'st me better, find that I have a shorter way than that with those who might inconvenience me did they but get the chance."The words were spoken with meaning, and De Maupas looked doubtfully at the speaker, as though neither liking nor understanding what he meant. "If thou meanest to imply----" he began at length."Lead on, men," cried Eustace de Brin, taking no notice of his friend. "Conduct the prisoners to the strongest cell beneath the donjon and see them fast. Duprez, thou wilt have to answer for them--so guard them well."Down the stone steps Edgar and Peter were marched until they reached the courtyard. Here several of the men-at-arms left them, and, escorted only by Duprez and one other, they skirted the massive walls of the donjon until they came to a small low door. Through this door they were hurried, and found themselves in what seemed to be a vast system of underground passages and vaults which must have dated back to the remoter days of the first beginnings of the castle. Some of the vaults were below the donjon, while others seemed to burrow beneath the flagstones of the courtyard.By the light of a single torch they were conducted along a passage whose gloomy arched walls echoed back the sound of their footsteps with a sullen insistence that seemed to make them contract yet more closely upon the unhappy prisoners. Presently they reached an ancient, monastic-looking cell, which they judged to be one of those situated beneath the courtyard. Into this they were roughly thrust. The torch was stuck into an iron ring above the doorway, and by its light Duprez and his assistant proceeded to release the arms of their prisoners from their bonds, and to load them afresh with heavy iron shackles which had been hanging ready for use from a hook upon the wall. The chamber was dank and heavy with moisture, and the shackles were thickly coated with rust, wet and smeary to the touch."Thou wilt find these safe enough for all their looks," growled Duprez, as he shackled Edgar's right arm to his left leg and his left arm to his right leg, so that he could barely stand upright. "These shackles have held secure captives as strong as thou--aye, and men of noble and knightly birth. Not once in my time has their grip relaxed until death claimed their victims. Sir Eustace said I would have to answer for thee--I object not to that, ha! ha!""'Tis a poor thing to make merry at thy prisoners' expense," replied Edgar shortly.Duprez stared at him as though scarcely comprehending his meaning. Probably the sentiment was foreign to him. Then he turned to Peter and trussed him in similar fashion, growling half to himself:"Cripple though thou art, 'twill be as well to shackle thee. After all, 'tis an honour to treat thee as a man of sound limbs, so let that thought comfort thee 'gainst thy pleasant stay in the dungeons of Ruthènes. Come, Rolfe, pick up their swords and daggers, and let us be off to our beds. Long enough have we spent over this business."Sardonically bidding them good night, Duprez and his man left the chamber, carrying with them the torch and the weapons they had taken from their prisoners. The door clanged heavily to behind them, and Edgar and Peter were left in total darkness to think over their most perilous situation, and to wonder for how much of it they had to thank their old foe, Sir Gervaise de Maupas.CHAPTER XIIIPrisonersWorn out and dispirited, Edgar and Peter sank to the floor and lay there motionless. Their sudden capture, after so successful a beginning, was a stunning blow, and though neither was easily discouraged, they needed time and thought to recover from it.After a time they grew drowsy, and presently forgot their troubles in sleep. When they awoke they judged it to be broad daylight. Their cell was still in semi-darkness, the only light that entered coming from a grating high up at the summit of the arched stone roof. This grating, Edgar calculated from his recollection of the trend of the passages they had traversed, was on a level with the flagstones of the courtyard.The priest had told Edgar something of the history of the castle, and from the appearance of the cell he came to the conclusion that the network of underground dungeons and passages belonged to its more ancient days, and had been left intact when it had been partially pulled down and rebuilt. The conclusion brought him little additional hope, for the walls were massively built of stone, and seemed to have been but slightly affected by the lapse of time."Canst think of any plan, Peter, by which we may effect our escape?" asked Edgar, when he had carefully weighed all the chances in his own mind."Nay, unless we can reach up to the grating by standing on one another's shoulders.""With these shackles? I fear there is little hope there, unless we can first rid ourselves of these irons.""Yes, we must knock off our shackles first. As thou know'st, Master Edgar, I was an armourer's assistant, and know something of chains and rivets. If there be any weak spots I can find them, and shall know how to deal with them. Had they left us but a dagger it would not have been long, I'll warrant thee, before we moved our limbs in freedom.""Yes, yes; but it must be done without a dagger. And before we start we must have some plan by which to escape when our shackles are off. 'Twould be useless to remove them only to be discovered by Duprez on his next visit. They would be replaced by a stronger pair, and our plight would be hopeless indeed. We must have a plan first. What doth the door offer? Let us examine it carefully."Both moved eagerly to the door. As they did so their chains clanked hideously, making a sound that seemed to strike into their hearts with dread, bringing irresistibly home to them their desperate position."Of a truth, it would be worth much to be rid of these shameful bonds alone," cried Edgar passionately. "Nevertheless, we must not think of it until we have our plans ready formed to our hands, Peter. Ha! 'Tis as I feared. This door belongeth not to the age when these walls were built. It is of far later make, and seems prodigiously strong--shake it and feel its weight, Peter."Peter did so, and then stood back and gave a despondent shake of the head. "Had they left us a piece of metal, however small, Master Edgar, we might in time have scraped a hole through the door around the lock and so opened it. But they have left nothing with me. Art sure they have left thee nothing?""They have left me nothing, Peter. They have taken my purse and all it contains, so that not even a coin remains for such a task. But stay--they have not touched my shirt of mail. Perchance we might do something with a few of its links, small as they are.""Let us try--but hush, Master Edgar, someone approaches. I hear footsteps in the passage outside."Both held their peace, and then, at a gesture from Edgar, sat down again on the stones in an attitude of dejection. A key grated in the lock of the door, and with much creaking and groaning the door was opened. Two men were outside--Duprez and another man, a stranger to Edgar. One bore an armful of rugs and the other some rough cakes and a pitcher, probably containing water."Thy bedding," grunted Duprez surlily. "Here, Guilbert, fling it in yon corner. Thou art lucky," he went on, turning to Edgar, "to get as much.""Lucky indeed," replied Edgar in a tone of weary indifference; "but can thine other prisoner spare the rugs?""Aye, they belong not--But what know ye--why talk ye of another prisoner?" cried Duprez savagely, as he began to suspect that he had told too much."Oh, nothing! Surely one might guess ye had other prisoners in so large a castle. Is this our food, friend Duprez? They do not intend to starve us at any rate. Doubtless we may expect a meal twice or thrice in the day?""Ye may expect me when ye see me," cried the man harshly. "Ye would like me to tell ye all, I make no doubt. Get ye to your food, and cease to bandy words with me, or it may chance you will lose all appetite.""Hast ever found thy prisoners kept their appetites in such noisome and dismal dungeons as these?" cried Edgar indignantly. "Didst thou take away the desire to eat, doubtless 'twould but do the work this cell will do as surely in a few short weeks.""Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Duprez with great zest. "Thou art a sharp fellow. 'Tis very true. My customers soon lose appetite, and finding they do not appreciate my trouble in bringing them their food, sometimes I forget it for a day or two. Ha! ha! It saves a lot of trouble in the end, and Sir Eustace makes no bones.""Begone! callous brute that ye are," cried Edgar, jumping to his feet in a burst of involuntary indignation. "Kill us outright an ye be a man."Duprez's merriment instantly vanished, and was succeeded by a burst of passion that he made no attempt to hold in check. "Silence, knave!" he cried savagely, as he struck Edgar violently on the mouth with his clenched fist. He then gave the pitcher his man had brought a vicious kick that dashed it into fragments, and, turning on his heel, sullenly left the cell.* * * * *As soon as they had eaten the cakes still left to them, Edgar and Peter began to ponder means of escape. The shirt of mail was tried, and several links obtained after much labour, but they were so small and so unsuited to the purpose the two had dimly in view that after a few minutes' trial the idea was given up in disgust. Even if it escaped detection, an attempt by such means would have taken so long as to be almost hopeless of success.During the remainder of the day Duprez never came near the prisoners. Doubtless he had counted upon his destruction of the pitcher inflicting much suffering upon them. But happily the water had splashed upon the oaten cakes, and had wetted them so thoroughly that they had rather helped to assuage the pangs of thirst than added to them.As near as the pair could judge, it was late on the afternoon of the second day when they again heard footsteps outside the door. Their first thought was that Duprez and his man were returning at last; but as the footsteps came nearer they gathered that only one person was approaching, and that probably that someone was more lightly shod than either of their jailers. The door opened, and to their astonishment Sir Gervaise de Maupas entered.At the sight of him Edgar involuntarily sprang to his feet, dominated for the moment by feelings of anger and excitement.De Maupas raised his hand and calmly waved him back. "It seems thou art surprised to see me," he said easily. "Thou wilt, I think, be more so when thou hast learned somewhat of mine errand and found how magnanimous I can be."With an effort, Edgar mastered his indignation and simply nodded his head as though waiting to hear more before accepting such a statement. The knight spoke with quiet confidence. Most of his bandages were now gone, and he seemed himself again and sure that the errand on which he had come would end as he desired."What ye have learned of me," he went on, pacing slowly up and down the narrow limits of the cell, "doubtless ye have learned from Sir John. Well, know this, that Sir John is the lifelong enemy of me and mine, and the fault of it lies not with me but with him. Aught that he hath told ye to my disadvantage is therefore not to be relied upon, for he hateth me and maligns me for his own base purposes. He is no true knight, and ye are mistaken in espousing his cause. I have told you the truth, so that ye may know that ye are honourably released from all allegiance to him.""But if thou art the true knight thou sayest, how comes it that thou art staying as a friend in the castle of this Eustace de Brin, a knight of ill reputation and one of the enemies of our country?"De Maupas frowned and momentarily checked his stride. "That is a long story," he said. "I am here out of no alliance with the enemies of our country; rather indeed to further its interests, for I am gaining much useful knowledge. But thou art indeed right when thou sayest the owner of this grim castle is a man of ill reputation. The scenes these cells have beheld would appal the stoutest heart could they be unfolded. Beware, then, that thou sharest not the fate of thy predecessors. Sir Eustace, I know, is deeply enraged with thee. He says thou art the first man to dare enter his castle without his permission, and he purposes to slay thee. Knowing thee for a fellow countryman, I intervened, and with such influence as I possess begged him to allow me to offer thee a hope of life--life in the open air and sunshine, not cooped within the narrow limits of a cell that must sooner or later drive thee mad. Say then, dost desire to accept my offer?""What is this offer?" asked Edgar shortly. "We are ready enough to leave this cell, as thou canst well imagine. But we must carry our honour unsullied with us.""I will watch over thine honour as I would over mine own," cried De Maupas emphatically. Then, not noticing the half-smile his declaration had conjured up, he went on, "Ye may have heard that I claim to be the rightful owner of the estates now held by Sir John Chartris? Mine they are, and I hold that he is keeping me out of them by nothing less than trickery and fraud. I have vowed to meet trickery by trickery, fraud by fraud, and I have, as ye know, captured Sir John and am holding him to ransom. My price for his release is an acknowledgment of my better claim to the estates. What could be more reasonable? Unfortunately, for himself as well as for me, he is proving obstinate. He will not yield his ill-gotten lands, and in my good nature, desiring not to do him hurt, I have cast about and found a way out of the difficulty. He shall keep the lands, but must assist me to the best of his power to win compensation in another direction. That is most fair, is it not, young sir? You see, I am trusting you fully, well knowing the justice of my cause.""Yes, yes," replied Edgar quickly, "but what is this compensation?" The knight's tone and bearing were so smooth and peaceable, and he seemed in so reasonable a frame of mind, that Edgar's opinion of him, well grounded though it was, was almost shaken."'Tis simply this. I am deeply enamoured of his ward, Beatrice d'Alençon, and would fain win her hand in marriage. All I ask are his good offices and influence to aid my suit. Could I be more magnanimous towards one whom I regard as a lifelong foe?"Utterly astounded at the extraordinary change of front, for a moment Edgar could but gape. Then he recovered himself and asked quickly, "But thou know'st not the lady D'Alençon. Thou hast, to my knowledge, spoken not one word to her. How then canst say thou art enamoured of her?""How could I approach her? My enmity with Sir John was so great that I should but have exposed myself to humiliation had I tried to make her closer acquaintance. As it was, I was forced to worship from afar.""De Maupas, thou art twice her age and more, and I find it hard indeed to believe thy story. Her lands are wide, and in their breadth alone I fear thy love has found its birth.""It is not so, Edgar Wintour. I have a real fancy for the maid, though I would not deny that her lands are of importance in my eyes. But I am a knight of birth; one too, who, if he had his rights, would own lands as wide and rich as hers. Therefore it seemeth to me that I am a fitting match for Beatrice d'Alençon. But enough of explanations. I am about to make the offer to Sir John, and to thee I make an offer no less generous. Aid me in persuading Sir John and after, and ye shall both go free. Refuse, and ye must rot in this loathsome dungeon--rot or go mad: one or other is as certain in the course of a few weeks as it is certain that Gervaise de Maupas stands before thee."Our hero was undoubtedly staggered at the offer so skilfully held out as an honourable exchange for Sir John's life and the claims De Maupas had long laid to his estates. Sir John's life was all important in Edgar's eyes, and could a means be found by which it might be honourably saved the loss of the estates of either ward or guardian weighed with him but little by comparison. The offer of De Maupas was therefore not one to be dismissed without consideration. He therefore took refuge in silence, while he tried to wrest any hidden motives for the offer there might be from the network of clever words in which he half-feared De Maupas had shrouded his real plans.There could be no doubt that Sir John had refused to purchase his life at the expense of his estates and the rights of his successors. That much was clear from De Maupas's presence in the cell that moment. Foiled in his first move, and unwilling to take Sir John's life while some profit might be made of it, he had bethought him of a plan by which he might purchase his rights and influence over his ward, the lady Beatrice. Her lands were even wider and richer than her guardian's, and the wily plotter had hit upon a way of obtaining them that would, he knew, pass muster readily enough as knightly and honourable.The story of his passion for her was doubtless trumped up for the occasion, to give an air of romance and honourable dealing to what was little more than barefaced robbery. Nevertheless, it was a story that would be widely believed, though that Beatrice must and always would loathe the man, Edgar felt not the slightest doubt.It was more than probable, too, that De Maupas had already broached his plan to Sir John, and, meeting with a rebuff, had bethought him of Edgar and hoped to obtain his aid in persuading his master. The more Edgar thought over the scheme, however, and the more he stripped it of its trappings of pretended love and romance, the more he felt it to be every whit as shameful as the first plan by which De Maupas had sought to obtain the Wolsingham lands by threats and violence."What is to be your answer to my generous offer, young sir?" said De Maupas at length. He still paced slowly to and fro the length of the cell, and his bearing was as easy and confident as ever. Edgar, however, had been not unheedful of the quick furtive glances he had cast at him every now and again as he turned in his stride."I will have no part in this matter, De Maupas," Edgar replied quickly. "I trust thee not, and much of thy story I cannot believe. More than that, I am not ready to purchase my life at another's expense.""It is Sir John's life, too, that thou art casting away like a fool," cried De Maupas angrily."Sir John hath, I doubt not, already told thee that he prefers death to dishonour. I, his esquire, say the same, on both his account and my own."A malignant look flamed up on the knight's face, and Edgar knew that he had judged his plans and motives aright."Death thou certainly shalt have, boy--I have sworn it long since," cried De Maupas furiously, placing his hand on his dagger as though he longed to carry his threat into instant execution. "But if thou think'st to obtain an honourable death with thy blood coursing warmly through thy veins, thou wilt be mistaken. Slowly, inch by inch, in silence and despair, shalt thou die--not with the plaudits of thousands ringing in thine ears as when, like a mad fool, thou didst brave my lifelong anger. Bah! I shall yet see thee blench and, cringing at my feet, beg for thy life and a glimpse of open air and sky. I can tell thee that the past has shown that these monkish walls have a secret of their own for crushing wills stronger far than thine."As he spoke the last few words the knight eyed Edgar with a gaze so stern and menacing that it seemed as though he hoped by its very intensity to cow him into submission."Never will I cringe to thee, Gervaise de Maupas," cried Edgar hotly, returning him look for look."We shall see," growled De Maupas savagely, as he turned sharply on his heel and left the cell, jerking the door to with a dull crash behind him.CHAPTER XIVA Desperate VentureAs soon as the excitement caused by the sudden appearance of De Maupas had begun to subside, Edgar recollected something that he had heard while the interview was proceeding, but which he had then no time to dwell upon. This was a strange sound, muffled and indistinct as though coming from a distance, which, having no opportunity for listening attentively, he had been unable to define. It might have been, he now thought, the cry of an animal or even of some human being in distress."Didst hear what sounded like distant cries while the door stood open, Peter?""I did, Master Edgar. They sounded strange and unearthly and I could make nothing of them. I heard the like when Duprez brought us food yesterday, but took no heed.""Ah! Can it be that they are torturing Sir John to compel him to yield compliance with their infamous projects?" exclaimed Edgar, beginning to pace restlessly up and down the cell as well as his shackles would permit. "De Maupas and this Black Eustace are, I verily believe, capable of deeds every whit as base and pitiless.""Thinkest thou so?" cried Peter excitedly. "Then let us spring upon our jailers and, if need be, perish in an effort to save our master from so fearful a fate.""Truly it is intolerable that we should remain supine here," replied Edgar in a voice vibrating with emotion, "but to attack our jailers, shackled as we are, would mean, I fear, but certain defeat. Would I could think of some way--but, yes, I have 't! Dost see yon bracket above the door?""Aye, sir, what wouldst do? Tear it down and use it as a weapon?""Nay, it looks to be embedded so deeply in the masonry that 'twould need weeks of work to loosen it. My thought was that could I climb upon it I might, at his next entry, spring upon Duprez all unawares. My weight and the shock of it might well rid us of him for the time and leave us two, shackled and without weapons, to face one man armed. Joyfully will we not accept the odds?""Aye, to that," cried Peter eagerly. "The plan soundeth well if the bracket will hold thy weight, and thou canst reach up to get upon it all cumbered with thine irons.""Let us try, Peter. Stand close against the door and let me climb upon thy shoulders. Though I cannot move my hands higher than my waist, I think I can yet make shift to clamber up."The bracket above the door on to which Edgar was endeavouring to climb consisted of a thick bar of iron with a socket, into which Duprez had thrust the torch when he had first entered the cell with his prisoners. It was thickly crusted with rust, but was so massive that it seemed likely enough that it would more than bear Edgar's weight.After a few minutes' clambering he managed to perch himself upon the bar, and by resting his back flat against the wall, could hold himself steady in his difficult position. Did Duprez and his man enter while he was in that position, it seemed easy to leap upon one of them and to bear him to the ground with crushing force."It offers good hopes of freedom, Peter!" exclaimed Edgar exultingly as he clambered with difficulty down from his dizzy position. "If we can overcome our two jailers, we shall be able to don their cloaks and issue forth freely. Did we only dare wait for darkness, we should, I doubt not, be able to reach the walls with little chance of discovery.""They have taken our ropes," observed Peter."A plunge from the walls into the moat will not come amiss if Sir John be not injured. We can flounder out and be hidden in the woods ere ever the drawbridge can be lowered. What is it, Peter? Hast heard something?""Yes, yes, I think I can hear footsteps in the distance outside. Quickly, Master Edgar--wilt thou not clamber up above the door and be ready?"Hastily Edgar prepared to climb, but before he was halfway up he heard sounds that brought him leaping to the ground. Placing his ear to one of the cracks of the door, he listened with agonized attention. Again in the distance he could hear the strange wails and screams which he had heard before."Listen, Peter, and tell me what ye think."Peter obeyed. "I can make no more of it than before," he remarked after a pause. "The sounds seem like nothing that I----But hark! I can hear the sound of footsteps coming and going. We shall have Duprez here anon."But the two prisoners were left undisturbed. The noise of footsteps died away, and with it the strange sounds that had so puzzled and alarmed Edgar--nay, alarmed him still, for he could not help connecting the sounds with Sir John, and feared that his ruthless enemies might be torturing or tormenting him into acquiescence in their plans. The more he thought of it the more he felt that such might be the case, and the more impatient he became to escape and hasten to his master's aid."Come, Peter," he cried at last, "we shall do little more by taking thought. At the next visit of Duprez we must try conclusions. Aid me to practise mounting rapidly to the bracket, so that when we next hear footsteps I may be prepared for action without loss of time."For half an hour Edgar practised until he could clamber up and get ready with great rapidity. Night had by that time fallen, and as it seemed unlikely that Duprez would visit them again that day, they gathered the rugs together and disposed themselves to sleep.Scarcely had they dozed off, however, when they were awakened by the sound of footsteps close at hand and by the glint of a light beneath the door. The moment of their opportunity had come! Duprez was doubtless at the door.With feverish impatience, Edgar hastened to the door and began to clamber up to his station. His movements were cramped and impeded by his shackles and the absolute necessity that no clanking of chains should warn their jailers that the prisoners were up and doing. Ere he had fully gained his coign of vantage the key was grating in the lock, and Peter had barely time to scuttle back to the farthest corner of the cell and to crouch down among the rugs, feigning sleep, before the door began to swing back upon its hinges."Come, ye proud varlets, ye are honoured tonight. Sir Eustace desires speech with you. Ha, ha! Much comfort to you 'twill be, I'll warrant."As he spoke Duprez strode into the cell, followed by another man who carried a torch, which he raised above his head to catch a glimpse of the prisoners.With a sudden spring, Edgar flung himself down upon the torchbearer, landing full upon him and crushing him to the ground with stunning force. The torch spun from his hand into a corner, and lay there spluttering in the damp, shedding a feeble, fitful light upon the scene. With a loud shout of alarm, Duprez grasped his sword by the hilt and strove to pluck it from its sheath. Before he could do so, however, Edgar had sprung upon him from the rear, whilst Peter seized him round the legs from the front. Down he went headlong, struggling furiously and shouting for aid, until Edgar grasped him by the throat and choked the sound with a grip of iron. Meanwhile the man who had borne the torch lay without a movement. His forehead had struck the flagstones with a force that had rendered him unconscious."Tear me some strips from yon rugs," cried Edgar in a minute or two, when Duprez, half-choked and fully mastered, had begun to relax his struggles. "Take this dagger--quick!"Peter drew the dagger from its sheath, and in a few seconds had slit off some strips of hide from the rough sheepskin rugs. With these Edgar bound Duprez's arms securely behind his back. The other man was then trussed in similar fashion, though, so far, he had shown no sign of returning consciousness."Peter," continued Edgar with breathless energy as soon as their jailers were secure, "place the torch upright against the wall and bend all thine energies to ridding thyself and me of our shackles. We have two swords and a dagger. That should be sufficient for an armourer's assistant. Get quickly to work, or it will be too late. Be silent if thou canst."He then turned to Duprez."Dost wish to live, scoundrel?" he said sternly. "Thou knowest as certainly as we do that our lives are forfeit if taken--dost then think we are likely to spare thee? What dost bid for thy life?""What want ye?" gasped Duprez, whose face was livid and full of fear as the wild shackled figure stooped over him, grasping a dagger snatched from the belt of the other man."A few words--no more. But they may spell life to thee.""Ask.""Where is Sir John Chartris?""The other prisoner--the man who came a week agone?""Yes, a man of knightly bearing, aged some forty years.""He is in this donjon, in a room near Sir Eustace. He was in one of these cells but a few hours since.""What! Was his, then, the voice we heard? You have tortured him, inhuman monsters!" and Edgar, in his anger, thrust the point of the dagger so close to Duprez's neck that the man winced with fear."Nay, nay, good sir, we have tortured him not. He contracted a fever two days after he came, and is wild with delirium. Sir Eustace feared to lose him if he kept him in these dungeons, and had him taken to a room halfway up the keep.""Ah! Tell me how I may reach this room."Sullenly the man obeyed."These keys at thy belt. Which is the key of Sir John's room?"Again the man gave the information desired, and Edgar, satisfied that he had obtained all that he required, stripped him of his cloak and then gagged him effectively with pieces torn from the rugs. In his elation he could have shouted for joy. Sir John was ill, but if all went well before another hour had gone he would at least be free.By this time Peter had rid himself of one of his shackles and the other was nearly shorn through. The shackles, though thick and heavy, were soft and rusty, and were an easy problem to an armourer's assistant in possession of well-tempered swords and a dagger. In a few more minutes he was free to attack Edgar's bonds in their turn. Soon he also could stretch his limbs in freedom."Well done, Peter! Now strip that man of his cloak and put it on. Gird on sword and dagger, roll up the rugs, and let us be off. Sir Eustace is awaiting us, and unless we act at once our chance will be lost for ever.""'Tis so, Master Edgar. We have indeed little time to lose. If Sir Eustace waxeth impatient, he may send other men to look for the first.""Yes, 'tis unfortunate that it was to fetch us to Sir Eustace that Duprez came; but that cannot be helped, and at least 'tis night, and the greater part of the castle inmates will be asleep. In these cloaks we shall be able to pass along unmolested, if so be we can avoid Black Eustace whilst bringing out Sir John."Taking up the torch, Edgar left the grim cell, closely followed by Peter, and shut the door behind him. They were free for the moment--free until Sir Eustace grew impatient at the tardy return of his messengers and set out to enquire the reason.As rapidly as possible the two young men traversed the ghostly underground passages and ascended a narrow winding staircase of stone towards the room in which Duprez had said Sir John was now lodged. It was found without difficulty, for, to their horror, as they neared the spot they heard the selfsame cries that had so startled them before. It seemed that Duprez had spoken truly, and as he reached the door it was with a trembling hand that Edgar thrust the key into the lock.The room was in darkness, but by the light of the torch held on high he saw Sir John. He was alone, but on a table near by were food and drink, which seemed to have been placed there not long since. The knight lay on a couch fully clothed, and was staring straight up at the ceiling, tossing his arms and shouting. At the noise of Edgar's entry and the light of the torch, he ceased for a moment, and, lifting his head, stared at the newcomers with eyes that seemed to search without the power of thought. Then his head fell back, and he resumed his wild shouting and tossing."Thou shalt see, false knight--think'st to bend to thy will a true knight of England? Infamous proposals! Worthy Gervaise de Maupas and grim Eustace of Ruthènes! The earl shall know--at last I tell thee--the time will come.""Sir John, Sir John," cried Edgar breathlessly, "we are come to set thee free! Canst bear to be lifted, my lord?""Hark, I hear the tramp of men! From the woods and mountains--they come--black knight of Ruthènes. They come to avenge--dreadful deeds. Full reparation shall they exact----""Be silent, I beseech thee, Sir John!" cried Edgar in desperation, as he realized how fearfully difficult would be the task of conveying the sick knight from out the castle did he persist in his wild cries. Then he placed his arm round him soothingly and tried to still his restless tossings, talking quietly to him the while. "See, now, Sir John, we are going to take thee to the lady Gertrude. She shall tend thee. Keep thee still and all shall be well. Talk not so, dear Sir John, but rest thy head on my shoulder. Soon shall we be out of this fearsome castle and breathe freely the open air of heaven." Then in an urgent whisper he went on: "Come, Peter, there is not an instant to be lost. He is quieting. Wrap those rugs around him and take him gently by the legs. I will bear his head and shoulders."For the moment the knight's cries sank into indistinct murmurs. He seemed to feel that friends at last were around him, and to be content to resign himself quietly into their hands."Whither shall I lead?" whispered Peter, as he opened the door and prepared to issue forth."Boldly down the stairs, which should be at the end of the passage. They lead to the main door into the courtyard. If any see us 'twill be Duprez and his man conveying the sick prisoner to another chamber. If any seek to know more we must silence them, and then on.""Dare we ascend the walls with Sir John in such sore plight, Master Edgar?""Nay, 'tis to the drawbridge we must go. We cannot lower a sick man from the walls into the castle moat. We must surprise the sentinel at the gates, and lower away before the alarm is sounded. If only Sir John will keep as quiet as he is now, we may count upon taking the guard unawares. He will doubtless be facing outwards to the foe, and not inwards to the silent courtyard."Leaving their torch behind them, the two young men crept slowly and silently along the passage with their burden. Halfway along they turned a corner and came full upon a door which stood half-open close by. Light streamed forth, and inside they could hear the regular thud of ironclad heels as a man paced slowly up and down.Somehow the sound seemed to excite the sick knight they were bearing beyond endurance. Springing suddenly half out of their arms, he cried with tremendous energy:"To-morrow--in the lists--shalt thou answer for thy crimes, Gervaise de Maupas. At the point of lance or sword--will I prove thy baseness.Laissez aller! On! on! Good steed--stout lance--do thy devoir. Hah! De Maupas, thou art down--yield thee----""What have we here?" came in a voice of thunder from the room, and the door was flung wide open by a hand rough and strong. In the doorway, standing out clearly against the light, appeared the short, thick figure of Eustace de Brin, clad from head to foot in dull black armour."Back, Peter, back!" whispered Edgar in a voice of desperation. "Carry Sir John, and return the way we came. I must defend the rear against this wolf of Ruthènes. Be rapid, on thy life and ours!"Relinquishing his share of the burden to his companion, Edgar drew his sword and prepared to defend himself against the attack he knew must come from Sir Eustace. For a moment, however, the latter could see nothing save shadowy figures hovering in the gloom. Sir John had again fallen silent, as though exhausted by his furious outburst."Is that thee, Duprez? Art come at last, ye tardy rascal? And what was yon shouting? It sounded like the voice of the mad knight, Chartris. Speak, man! hast lost thy voice?"Receiving no answer, the speaker, with an angry threat, plunged back into his room, and, plucking a torch from the wall, sprang out into the passage, sword in hand.Edgar instantly attacked him. Aiming at the torch held on high, he severed it in twain at the first blow. The lighted end dropped down upon the black knight's chest, and from thence to the floor in front of him. Lunging forward to the attack once more, Edgar set his foot upon it and plunged the passage in total darkness, while his sword rattled vengefully against Sir Eustace's harness.With a cry of impotent fury Sir Eustace sprang back into the room he had left. In the light of the falling torch he had recognized in his adversary the esquire whom he had imprisoned and for whom he was even at that moment impatiently waiting. He had come, indeed, but scarcely in the manner he had expected."Thou art mine still!" he shouted madly over his shoulder. "Dearly shalt thou pay for thine insolence!"Freed for the moment, Edgar turned and sped down the passage as fast as the pitchy darkness would allow. But before he had caught up Peter the quick sharp clang of the alarm bell of the castle rang out with insistent clangour upon the stillness of the night. Instantly shouts and cries arose from all sides as the Ruthènes household and garrison sprang excitedly from their beds. Sir Eustace had lost no time in summoning the castle to arms, and to all appearances Edgar and his companions were caught in the iron jaws of a trap."We are lost, Master Edgar," cried Peter despairingly, as Edgar caught him up at the head of the winding staircase which, led downward to the dungeons they had left. "The alarm is sounded, and 'tis impossible that we can escape in face of the castle garrison.""Courage, Peter!" cried Edgar. "Let me aid thee with Sir John. There is still a slender thread of hope left to us, and we must follow it.""But why to our dungeons? Dost desire only to sell our lives as dearly as possible?""Nay, Peter. Dost not remember that just before we parted from the priest he spoke of a legend among his folk which told of the existence of an underground passage leading from out the castle? As we came from our dungeon a while since, didst not note the flight of stone steps that plunged yet deeper into the bowels of the earth? Our only chance is that the legend is true, and I feel a mighty hope that 'tis so. Onward, lad, onward!""But surely there will be gates to either end which we must pass?""We have Duprez's keys, and by God's will they will open all doors. Press on! Already I hear the tramp of men along the passages above. See, 'tis the glint of torches in the distance. We are but a minute ahead of despair."As he spoke they reached level ground at the foot of the winding stairs, and at the entrance to the passage which led into the labyrinth of dungeons. Feeling about, Edgar found the stone steps which he had noticed as he passed, and which at the time had made him wonder momentarily whither they could lead, yet deeper into the earth. Groping and stumbling, the two lads found their way to the bottom with their burden. As they had half-expected, they found farther progress barred by a massive iron-studded door.Groping down the side, Edgar found a keyhole and inserted a key. It did not fit. Another and another he tried with feverish impatience. The sound of voices and approaching footsteps every moment grew in volume. The search party was already at the foot of the winding staircase, and entering the passage to the dungeons. The light of the torches they carried grew until Edgar could dimly make out the outline of the door which alone, for the moment, stood between them and safety.Another key--and with a sigh of relief Edgar felt it sink into the lock. A turn with all his strength, and the rusty wards slowly and gratingly yielded. At the very moment when the pursuers reached the head of the stairs above them the door slowly opened, letting out a waft of dank, earthy air that even in their extremity gave them pause. Pitchy foul blackness stretched before them, but behind were the savage retainers of the black knight of Ruthènes.Suddenly a torch was flung down the narrow flight of steps. Doubtless someone among the searchers above had heard a noise, or suspected that the darkness below perhaps hid the fugitives they sought. The torch fell upon the bottom steps and blazed up, revealing as with the light of day the three crouching figures. There was a wild, irregular shout of surprise and exultation from the men above.
[image]"A TORCH WAS THRUST CLOSE TO EDGAR'S FACE"
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"A TORCH WAS THRUST CLOSE TO EDGAR'S FACE"
"I know not the varlet," he growled, and Edgar recognized the voice of the man who had first spoken and who had admitted himself to be Eustace de Brin. "He seemeth not to belong to these dogs of peasants who would dearly love to bite the hand of their master an they got the chance. Here, camarade, perchance this is one of the hounds thou hast feared might be on thy track."
A man who had held aloof from the struggle came forward at the call, and Edgar, whose head had now been released from its intolerable strain, had no difficulty in recognizing, in spite of his bandages, the fierce eyes and harsh visage of Sir Gervaise de Maupas. The recognition was mutual, for with a shout of astonishment and savage joy, the knight cried:
"It is! It is! This is none other than that braggart esquire of whom I told thee, Eustace."
"What! The boy who gave thee that clout in the lists that nearly sent thee where thou art so eagerly awaited?" cried De Brin with a loud laugh.
"Nay, Eustace," cried De Maupas, giving the speaker no very friendly look. "He is the boy who played me a base trick that by an unfortunate mischance I could not frustrate. But he will play me no more. Give him to me, Eustace, as an earnest of the goodwill thou hast so often spoken of, but of which I have seen little enough solid evidence; as some slight return, too, for the many profitable ventures I have put thee in the way of."
"Well, well, we will talk more of that anon, camarade Gervaise. The disposal of the boy's body is nothing to me, so long as he is punished for his insolent daring in scaling the walls of my castle; but first I must know how we stand in this business. D'ye know the other man?"
Peter was next examined. "Yes," growled the knight, "this dog is one of the plotters. He is somewhat of a cripple--Baulch hath told me of him--but is not too crippled to give us trouble. Guard him well, Eustace, or thou wilt regret it."
"Ha! ha! ha! friend Gervaise, thou wilt, when thou know'st me better, find that I have a shorter way than that with those who might inconvenience me did they but get the chance."
The words were spoken with meaning, and De Maupas looked doubtfully at the speaker, as though neither liking nor understanding what he meant. "If thou meanest to imply----" he began at length.
"Lead on, men," cried Eustace de Brin, taking no notice of his friend. "Conduct the prisoners to the strongest cell beneath the donjon and see them fast. Duprez, thou wilt have to answer for them--so guard them well."
Down the stone steps Edgar and Peter were marched until they reached the courtyard. Here several of the men-at-arms left them, and, escorted only by Duprez and one other, they skirted the massive walls of the donjon until they came to a small low door. Through this door they were hurried, and found themselves in what seemed to be a vast system of underground passages and vaults which must have dated back to the remoter days of the first beginnings of the castle. Some of the vaults were below the donjon, while others seemed to burrow beneath the flagstones of the courtyard.
By the light of a single torch they were conducted along a passage whose gloomy arched walls echoed back the sound of their footsteps with a sullen insistence that seemed to make them contract yet more closely upon the unhappy prisoners. Presently they reached an ancient, monastic-looking cell, which they judged to be one of those situated beneath the courtyard. Into this they were roughly thrust. The torch was stuck into an iron ring above the doorway, and by its light Duprez and his assistant proceeded to release the arms of their prisoners from their bonds, and to load them afresh with heavy iron shackles which had been hanging ready for use from a hook upon the wall. The chamber was dank and heavy with moisture, and the shackles were thickly coated with rust, wet and smeary to the touch.
"Thou wilt find these safe enough for all their looks," growled Duprez, as he shackled Edgar's right arm to his left leg and his left arm to his right leg, so that he could barely stand upright. "These shackles have held secure captives as strong as thou--aye, and men of noble and knightly birth. Not once in my time has their grip relaxed until death claimed their victims. Sir Eustace said I would have to answer for thee--I object not to that, ha! ha!"
"'Tis a poor thing to make merry at thy prisoners' expense," replied Edgar shortly.
Duprez stared at him as though scarcely comprehending his meaning. Probably the sentiment was foreign to him. Then he turned to Peter and trussed him in similar fashion, growling half to himself:
"Cripple though thou art, 'twill be as well to shackle thee. After all, 'tis an honour to treat thee as a man of sound limbs, so let that thought comfort thee 'gainst thy pleasant stay in the dungeons of Ruthènes. Come, Rolfe, pick up their swords and daggers, and let us be off to our beds. Long enough have we spent over this business."
Sardonically bidding them good night, Duprez and his man left the chamber, carrying with them the torch and the weapons they had taken from their prisoners. The door clanged heavily to behind them, and Edgar and Peter were left in total darkness to think over their most perilous situation, and to wonder for how much of it they had to thank their old foe, Sir Gervaise de Maupas.
CHAPTER XIII
Prisoners
Worn out and dispirited, Edgar and Peter sank to the floor and lay there motionless. Their sudden capture, after so successful a beginning, was a stunning blow, and though neither was easily discouraged, they needed time and thought to recover from it.
After a time they grew drowsy, and presently forgot their troubles in sleep. When they awoke they judged it to be broad daylight. Their cell was still in semi-darkness, the only light that entered coming from a grating high up at the summit of the arched stone roof. This grating, Edgar calculated from his recollection of the trend of the passages they had traversed, was on a level with the flagstones of the courtyard.
The priest had told Edgar something of the history of the castle, and from the appearance of the cell he came to the conclusion that the network of underground dungeons and passages belonged to its more ancient days, and had been left intact when it had been partially pulled down and rebuilt. The conclusion brought him little additional hope, for the walls were massively built of stone, and seemed to have been but slightly affected by the lapse of time.
"Canst think of any plan, Peter, by which we may effect our escape?" asked Edgar, when he had carefully weighed all the chances in his own mind.
"Nay, unless we can reach up to the grating by standing on one another's shoulders."
"With these shackles? I fear there is little hope there, unless we can first rid ourselves of these irons."
"Yes, we must knock off our shackles first. As thou know'st, Master Edgar, I was an armourer's assistant, and know something of chains and rivets. If there be any weak spots I can find them, and shall know how to deal with them. Had they left us but a dagger it would not have been long, I'll warrant thee, before we moved our limbs in freedom."
"Yes, yes; but it must be done without a dagger. And before we start we must have some plan by which to escape when our shackles are off. 'Twould be useless to remove them only to be discovered by Duprez on his next visit. They would be replaced by a stronger pair, and our plight would be hopeless indeed. We must have a plan first. What doth the door offer? Let us examine it carefully."
Both moved eagerly to the door. As they did so their chains clanked hideously, making a sound that seemed to strike into their hearts with dread, bringing irresistibly home to them their desperate position.
"Of a truth, it would be worth much to be rid of these shameful bonds alone," cried Edgar passionately. "Nevertheless, we must not think of it until we have our plans ready formed to our hands, Peter. Ha! 'Tis as I feared. This door belongeth not to the age when these walls were built. It is of far later make, and seems prodigiously strong--shake it and feel its weight, Peter."
Peter did so, and then stood back and gave a despondent shake of the head. "Had they left us a piece of metal, however small, Master Edgar, we might in time have scraped a hole through the door around the lock and so opened it. But they have left nothing with me. Art sure they have left thee nothing?"
"They have left me nothing, Peter. They have taken my purse and all it contains, so that not even a coin remains for such a task. But stay--they have not touched my shirt of mail. Perchance we might do something with a few of its links, small as they are."
"Let us try--but hush, Master Edgar, someone approaches. I hear footsteps in the passage outside."
Both held their peace, and then, at a gesture from Edgar, sat down again on the stones in an attitude of dejection. A key grated in the lock of the door, and with much creaking and groaning the door was opened. Two men were outside--Duprez and another man, a stranger to Edgar. One bore an armful of rugs and the other some rough cakes and a pitcher, probably containing water.
"Thy bedding," grunted Duprez surlily. "Here, Guilbert, fling it in yon corner. Thou art lucky," he went on, turning to Edgar, "to get as much."
"Lucky indeed," replied Edgar in a tone of weary indifference; "but can thine other prisoner spare the rugs?"
"Aye, they belong not--But what know ye--why talk ye of another prisoner?" cried Duprez savagely, as he began to suspect that he had told too much.
"Oh, nothing! Surely one might guess ye had other prisoners in so large a castle. Is this our food, friend Duprez? They do not intend to starve us at any rate. Doubtless we may expect a meal twice or thrice in the day?"
"Ye may expect me when ye see me," cried the man harshly. "Ye would like me to tell ye all, I make no doubt. Get ye to your food, and cease to bandy words with me, or it may chance you will lose all appetite."
"Hast ever found thy prisoners kept their appetites in such noisome and dismal dungeons as these?" cried Edgar indignantly. "Didst thou take away the desire to eat, doubtless 'twould but do the work this cell will do as surely in a few short weeks."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Duprez with great zest. "Thou art a sharp fellow. 'Tis very true. My customers soon lose appetite, and finding they do not appreciate my trouble in bringing them their food, sometimes I forget it for a day or two. Ha! ha! It saves a lot of trouble in the end, and Sir Eustace makes no bones."
"Begone! callous brute that ye are," cried Edgar, jumping to his feet in a burst of involuntary indignation. "Kill us outright an ye be a man."
Duprez's merriment instantly vanished, and was succeeded by a burst of passion that he made no attempt to hold in check. "Silence, knave!" he cried savagely, as he struck Edgar violently on the mouth with his clenched fist. He then gave the pitcher his man had brought a vicious kick that dashed it into fragments, and, turning on his heel, sullenly left the cell.
* * * * *
As soon as they had eaten the cakes still left to them, Edgar and Peter began to ponder means of escape. The shirt of mail was tried, and several links obtained after much labour, but they were so small and so unsuited to the purpose the two had dimly in view that after a few minutes' trial the idea was given up in disgust. Even if it escaped detection, an attempt by such means would have taken so long as to be almost hopeless of success.
During the remainder of the day Duprez never came near the prisoners. Doubtless he had counted upon his destruction of the pitcher inflicting much suffering upon them. But happily the water had splashed upon the oaten cakes, and had wetted them so thoroughly that they had rather helped to assuage the pangs of thirst than added to them.
As near as the pair could judge, it was late on the afternoon of the second day when they again heard footsteps outside the door. Their first thought was that Duprez and his man were returning at last; but as the footsteps came nearer they gathered that only one person was approaching, and that probably that someone was more lightly shod than either of their jailers. The door opened, and to their astonishment Sir Gervaise de Maupas entered.
At the sight of him Edgar involuntarily sprang to his feet, dominated for the moment by feelings of anger and excitement.
De Maupas raised his hand and calmly waved him back. "It seems thou art surprised to see me," he said easily. "Thou wilt, I think, be more so when thou hast learned somewhat of mine errand and found how magnanimous I can be."
With an effort, Edgar mastered his indignation and simply nodded his head as though waiting to hear more before accepting such a statement. The knight spoke with quiet confidence. Most of his bandages were now gone, and he seemed himself again and sure that the errand on which he had come would end as he desired.
"What ye have learned of me," he went on, pacing slowly up and down the narrow limits of the cell, "doubtless ye have learned from Sir John. Well, know this, that Sir John is the lifelong enemy of me and mine, and the fault of it lies not with me but with him. Aught that he hath told ye to my disadvantage is therefore not to be relied upon, for he hateth me and maligns me for his own base purposes. He is no true knight, and ye are mistaken in espousing his cause. I have told you the truth, so that ye may know that ye are honourably released from all allegiance to him."
"But if thou art the true knight thou sayest, how comes it that thou art staying as a friend in the castle of this Eustace de Brin, a knight of ill reputation and one of the enemies of our country?"
De Maupas frowned and momentarily checked his stride. "That is a long story," he said. "I am here out of no alliance with the enemies of our country; rather indeed to further its interests, for I am gaining much useful knowledge. But thou art indeed right when thou sayest the owner of this grim castle is a man of ill reputation. The scenes these cells have beheld would appal the stoutest heart could they be unfolded. Beware, then, that thou sharest not the fate of thy predecessors. Sir Eustace, I know, is deeply enraged with thee. He says thou art the first man to dare enter his castle without his permission, and he purposes to slay thee. Knowing thee for a fellow countryman, I intervened, and with such influence as I possess begged him to allow me to offer thee a hope of life--life in the open air and sunshine, not cooped within the narrow limits of a cell that must sooner or later drive thee mad. Say then, dost desire to accept my offer?"
"What is this offer?" asked Edgar shortly. "We are ready enough to leave this cell, as thou canst well imagine. But we must carry our honour unsullied with us."
"I will watch over thine honour as I would over mine own," cried De Maupas emphatically. Then, not noticing the half-smile his declaration had conjured up, he went on, "Ye may have heard that I claim to be the rightful owner of the estates now held by Sir John Chartris? Mine they are, and I hold that he is keeping me out of them by nothing less than trickery and fraud. I have vowed to meet trickery by trickery, fraud by fraud, and I have, as ye know, captured Sir John and am holding him to ransom. My price for his release is an acknowledgment of my better claim to the estates. What could be more reasonable? Unfortunately, for himself as well as for me, he is proving obstinate. He will not yield his ill-gotten lands, and in my good nature, desiring not to do him hurt, I have cast about and found a way out of the difficulty. He shall keep the lands, but must assist me to the best of his power to win compensation in another direction. That is most fair, is it not, young sir? You see, I am trusting you fully, well knowing the justice of my cause."
"Yes, yes," replied Edgar quickly, "but what is this compensation?" The knight's tone and bearing were so smooth and peaceable, and he seemed in so reasonable a frame of mind, that Edgar's opinion of him, well grounded though it was, was almost shaken.
"'Tis simply this. I am deeply enamoured of his ward, Beatrice d'Alençon, and would fain win her hand in marriage. All I ask are his good offices and influence to aid my suit. Could I be more magnanimous towards one whom I regard as a lifelong foe?"
Utterly astounded at the extraordinary change of front, for a moment Edgar could but gape. Then he recovered himself and asked quickly, "But thou know'st not the lady D'Alençon. Thou hast, to my knowledge, spoken not one word to her. How then canst say thou art enamoured of her?"
"How could I approach her? My enmity with Sir John was so great that I should but have exposed myself to humiliation had I tried to make her closer acquaintance. As it was, I was forced to worship from afar."
"De Maupas, thou art twice her age and more, and I find it hard indeed to believe thy story. Her lands are wide, and in their breadth alone I fear thy love has found its birth."
"It is not so, Edgar Wintour. I have a real fancy for the maid, though I would not deny that her lands are of importance in my eyes. But I am a knight of birth; one too, who, if he had his rights, would own lands as wide and rich as hers. Therefore it seemeth to me that I am a fitting match for Beatrice d'Alençon. But enough of explanations. I am about to make the offer to Sir John, and to thee I make an offer no less generous. Aid me in persuading Sir John and after, and ye shall both go free. Refuse, and ye must rot in this loathsome dungeon--rot or go mad: one or other is as certain in the course of a few weeks as it is certain that Gervaise de Maupas stands before thee."
Our hero was undoubtedly staggered at the offer so skilfully held out as an honourable exchange for Sir John's life and the claims De Maupas had long laid to his estates. Sir John's life was all important in Edgar's eyes, and could a means be found by which it might be honourably saved the loss of the estates of either ward or guardian weighed with him but little by comparison. The offer of De Maupas was therefore not one to be dismissed without consideration. He therefore took refuge in silence, while he tried to wrest any hidden motives for the offer there might be from the network of clever words in which he half-feared De Maupas had shrouded his real plans.
There could be no doubt that Sir John had refused to purchase his life at the expense of his estates and the rights of his successors. That much was clear from De Maupas's presence in the cell that moment. Foiled in his first move, and unwilling to take Sir John's life while some profit might be made of it, he had bethought him of a plan by which he might purchase his rights and influence over his ward, the lady Beatrice. Her lands were even wider and richer than her guardian's, and the wily plotter had hit upon a way of obtaining them that would, he knew, pass muster readily enough as knightly and honourable.
The story of his passion for her was doubtless trumped up for the occasion, to give an air of romance and honourable dealing to what was little more than barefaced robbery. Nevertheless, it was a story that would be widely believed, though that Beatrice must and always would loathe the man, Edgar felt not the slightest doubt.
It was more than probable, too, that De Maupas had already broached his plan to Sir John, and, meeting with a rebuff, had bethought him of Edgar and hoped to obtain his aid in persuading his master. The more Edgar thought over the scheme, however, and the more he stripped it of its trappings of pretended love and romance, the more he felt it to be every whit as shameful as the first plan by which De Maupas had sought to obtain the Wolsingham lands by threats and violence.
"What is to be your answer to my generous offer, young sir?" said De Maupas at length. He still paced slowly to and fro the length of the cell, and his bearing was as easy and confident as ever. Edgar, however, had been not unheedful of the quick furtive glances he had cast at him every now and again as he turned in his stride.
"I will have no part in this matter, De Maupas," Edgar replied quickly. "I trust thee not, and much of thy story I cannot believe. More than that, I am not ready to purchase my life at another's expense."
"It is Sir John's life, too, that thou art casting away like a fool," cried De Maupas angrily.
"Sir John hath, I doubt not, already told thee that he prefers death to dishonour. I, his esquire, say the same, on both his account and my own."
A malignant look flamed up on the knight's face, and Edgar knew that he had judged his plans and motives aright.
"Death thou certainly shalt have, boy--I have sworn it long since," cried De Maupas furiously, placing his hand on his dagger as though he longed to carry his threat into instant execution. "But if thou think'st to obtain an honourable death with thy blood coursing warmly through thy veins, thou wilt be mistaken. Slowly, inch by inch, in silence and despair, shalt thou die--not with the plaudits of thousands ringing in thine ears as when, like a mad fool, thou didst brave my lifelong anger. Bah! I shall yet see thee blench and, cringing at my feet, beg for thy life and a glimpse of open air and sky. I can tell thee that the past has shown that these monkish walls have a secret of their own for crushing wills stronger far than thine."
As he spoke the last few words the knight eyed Edgar with a gaze so stern and menacing that it seemed as though he hoped by its very intensity to cow him into submission.
"Never will I cringe to thee, Gervaise de Maupas," cried Edgar hotly, returning him look for look.
"We shall see," growled De Maupas savagely, as he turned sharply on his heel and left the cell, jerking the door to with a dull crash behind him.
CHAPTER XIV
A Desperate Venture
As soon as the excitement caused by the sudden appearance of De Maupas had begun to subside, Edgar recollected something that he had heard while the interview was proceeding, but which he had then no time to dwell upon. This was a strange sound, muffled and indistinct as though coming from a distance, which, having no opportunity for listening attentively, he had been unable to define. It might have been, he now thought, the cry of an animal or even of some human being in distress.
"Didst hear what sounded like distant cries while the door stood open, Peter?"
"I did, Master Edgar. They sounded strange and unearthly and I could make nothing of them. I heard the like when Duprez brought us food yesterday, but took no heed."
"Ah! Can it be that they are torturing Sir John to compel him to yield compliance with their infamous projects?" exclaimed Edgar, beginning to pace restlessly up and down the cell as well as his shackles would permit. "De Maupas and this Black Eustace are, I verily believe, capable of deeds every whit as base and pitiless."
"Thinkest thou so?" cried Peter excitedly. "Then let us spring upon our jailers and, if need be, perish in an effort to save our master from so fearful a fate."
"Truly it is intolerable that we should remain supine here," replied Edgar in a voice vibrating with emotion, "but to attack our jailers, shackled as we are, would mean, I fear, but certain defeat. Would I could think of some way--but, yes, I have 't! Dost see yon bracket above the door?"
"Aye, sir, what wouldst do? Tear it down and use it as a weapon?"
"Nay, it looks to be embedded so deeply in the masonry that 'twould need weeks of work to loosen it. My thought was that could I climb upon it I might, at his next entry, spring upon Duprez all unawares. My weight and the shock of it might well rid us of him for the time and leave us two, shackled and without weapons, to face one man armed. Joyfully will we not accept the odds?"
"Aye, to that," cried Peter eagerly. "The plan soundeth well if the bracket will hold thy weight, and thou canst reach up to get upon it all cumbered with thine irons."
"Let us try, Peter. Stand close against the door and let me climb upon thy shoulders. Though I cannot move my hands higher than my waist, I think I can yet make shift to clamber up."
The bracket above the door on to which Edgar was endeavouring to climb consisted of a thick bar of iron with a socket, into which Duprez had thrust the torch when he had first entered the cell with his prisoners. It was thickly crusted with rust, but was so massive that it seemed likely enough that it would more than bear Edgar's weight.
After a few minutes' clambering he managed to perch himself upon the bar, and by resting his back flat against the wall, could hold himself steady in his difficult position. Did Duprez and his man enter while he was in that position, it seemed easy to leap upon one of them and to bear him to the ground with crushing force.
"It offers good hopes of freedom, Peter!" exclaimed Edgar exultingly as he clambered with difficulty down from his dizzy position. "If we can overcome our two jailers, we shall be able to don their cloaks and issue forth freely. Did we only dare wait for darkness, we should, I doubt not, be able to reach the walls with little chance of discovery."
"They have taken our ropes," observed Peter.
"A plunge from the walls into the moat will not come amiss if Sir John be not injured. We can flounder out and be hidden in the woods ere ever the drawbridge can be lowered. What is it, Peter? Hast heard something?"
"Yes, yes, I think I can hear footsteps in the distance outside. Quickly, Master Edgar--wilt thou not clamber up above the door and be ready?"
Hastily Edgar prepared to climb, but before he was halfway up he heard sounds that brought him leaping to the ground. Placing his ear to one of the cracks of the door, he listened with agonized attention. Again in the distance he could hear the strange wails and screams which he had heard before.
"Listen, Peter, and tell me what ye think."
Peter obeyed. "I can make no more of it than before," he remarked after a pause. "The sounds seem like nothing that I----But hark! I can hear the sound of footsteps coming and going. We shall have Duprez here anon."
But the two prisoners were left undisturbed. The noise of footsteps died away, and with it the strange sounds that had so puzzled and alarmed Edgar--nay, alarmed him still, for he could not help connecting the sounds with Sir John, and feared that his ruthless enemies might be torturing or tormenting him into acquiescence in their plans. The more he thought of it the more he felt that such might be the case, and the more impatient he became to escape and hasten to his master's aid.
"Come, Peter," he cried at last, "we shall do little more by taking thought. At the next visit of Duprez we must try conclusions. Aid me to practise mounting rapidly to the bracket, so that when we next hear footsteps I may be prepared for action without loss of time."
For half an hour Edgar practised until he could clamber up and get ready with great rapidity. Night had by that time fallen, and as it seemed unlikely that Duprez would visit them again that day, they gathered the rugs together and disposed themselves to sleep.
Scarcely had they dozed off, however, when they were awakened by the sound of footsteps close at hand and by the glint of a light beneath the door. The moment of their opportunity had come! Duprez was doubtless at the door.
With feverish impatience, Edgar hastened to the door and began to clamber up to his station. His movements were cramped and impeded by his shackles and the absolute necessity that no clanking of chains should warn their jailers that the prisoners were up and doing. Ere he had fully gained his coign of vantage the key was grating in the lock, and Peter had barely time to scuttle back to the farthest corner of the cell and to crouch down among the rugs, feigning sleep, before the door began to swing back upon its hinges.
"Come, ye proud varlets, ye are honoured tonight. Sir Eustace desires speech with you. Ha, ha! Much comfort to you 'twill be, I'll warrant."
As he spoke Duprez strode into the cell, followed by another man who carried a torch, which he raised above his head to catch a glimpse of the prisoners.
With a sudden spring, Edgar flung himself down upon the torchbearer, landing full upon him and crushing him to the ground with stunning force. The torch spun from his hand into a corner, and lay there spluttering in the damp, shedding a feeble, fitful light upon the scene. With a loud shout of alarm, Duprez grasped his sword by the hilt and strove to pluck it from its sheath. Before he could do so, however, Edgar had sprung upon him from the rear, whilst Peter seized him round the legs from the front. Down he went headlong, struggling furiously and shouting for aid, until Edgar grasped him by the throat and choked the sound with a grip of iron. Meanwhile the man who had borne the torch lay without a movement. His forehead had struck the flagstones with a force that had rendered him unconscious.
"Tear me some strips from yon rugs," cried Edgar in a minute or two, when Duprez, half-choked and fully mastered, had begun to relax his struggles. "Take this dagger--quick!"
Peter drew the dagger from its sheath, and in a few seconds had slit off some strips of hide from the rough sheepskin rugs. With these Edgar bound Duprez's arms securely behind his back. The other man was then trussed in similar fashion, though, so far, he had shown no sign of returning consciousness.
"Peter," continued Edgar with breathless energy as soon as their jailers were secure, "place the torch upright against the wall and bend all thine energies to ridding thyself and me of our shackles. We have two swords and a dagger. That should be sufficient for an armourer's assistant. Get quickly to work, or it will be too late. Be silent if thou canst."
He then turned to Duprez.
"Dost wish to live, scoundrel?" he said sternly. "Thou knowest as certainly as we do that our lives are forfeit if taken--dost then think we are likely to spare thee? What dost bid for thy life?"
"What want ye?" gasped Duprez, whose face was livid and full of fear as the wild shackled figure stooped over him, grasping a dagger snatched from the belt of the other man.
"A few words--no more. But they may spell life to thee."
"Ask."
"Where is Sir John Chartris?"
"The other prisoner--the man who came a week agone?"
"Yes, a man of knightly bearing, aged some forty years."
"He is in this donjon, in a room near Sir Eustace. He was in one of these cells but a few hours since."
"What! Was his, then, the voice we heard? You have tortured him, inhuman monsters!" and Edgar, in his anger, thrust the point of the dagger so close to Duprez's neck that the man winced with fear.
"Nay, nay, good sir, we have tortured him not. He contracted a fever two days after he came, and is wild with delirium. Sir Eustace feared to lose him if he kept him in these dungeons, and had him taken to a room halfway up the keep."
"Ah! Tell me how I may reach this room."
Sullenly the man obeyed.
"These keys at thy belt. Which is the key of Sir John's room?"
Again the man gave the information desired, and Edgar, satisfied that he had obtained all that he required, stripped him of his cloak and then gagged him effectively with pieces torn from the rugs. In his elation he could have shouted for joy. Sir John was ill, but if all went well before another hour had gone he would at least be free.
By this time Peter had rid himself of one of his shackles and the other was nearly shorn through. The shackles, though thick and heavy, were soft and rusty, and were an easy problem to an armourer's assistant in possession of well-tempered swords and a dagger. In a few more minutes he was free to attack Edgar's bonds in their turn. Soon he also could stretch his limbs in freedom.
"Well done, Peter! Now strip that man of his cloak and put it on. Gird on sword and dagger, roll up the rugs, and let us be off. Sir Eustace is awaiting us, and unless we act at once our chance will be lost for ever."
"'Tis so, Master Edgar. We have indeed little time to lose. If Sir Eustace waxeth impatient, he may send other men to look for the first."
"Yes, 'tis unfortunate that it was to fetch us to Sir Eustace that Duprez came; but that cannot be helped, and at least 'tis night, and the greater part of the castle inmates will be asleep. In these cloaks we shall be able to pass along unmolested, if so be we can avoid Black Eustace whilst bringing out Sir John."
Taking up the torch, Edgar left the grim cell, closely followed by Peter, and shut the door behind him. They were free for the moment--free until Sir Eustace grew impatient at the tardy return of his messengers and set out to enquire the reason.
As rapidly as possible the two young men traversed the ghostly underground passages and ascended a narrow winding staircase of stone towards the room in which Duprez had said Sir John was now lodged. It was found without difficulty, for, to their horror, as they neared the spot they heard the selfsame cries that had so startled them before. It seemed that Duprez had spoken truly, and as he reached the door it was with a trembling hand that Edgar thrust the key into the lock.
The room was in darkness, but by the light of the torch held on high he saw Sir John. He was alone, but on a table near by were food and drink, which seemed to have been placed there not long since. The knight lay on a couch fully clothed, and was staring straight up at the ceiling, tossing his arms and shouting. At the noise of Edgar's entry and the light of the torch, he ceased for a moment, and, lifting his head, stared at the newcomers with eyes that seemed to search without the power of thought. Then his head fell back, and he resumed his wild shouting and tossing.
"Thou shalt see, false knight--think'st to bend to thy will a true knight of England? Infamous proposals! Worthy Gervaise de Maupas and grim Eustace of Ruthènes! The earl shall know--at last I tell thee--the time will come."
"Sir John, Sir John," cried Edgar breathlessly, "we are come to set thee free! Canst bear to be lifted, my lord?"
"Hark, I hear the tramp of men! From the woods and mountains--they come--black knight of Ruthènes. They come to avenge--dreadful deeds. Full reparation shall they exact----"
"Be silent, I beseech thee, Sir John!" cried Edgar in desperation, as he realized how fearfully difficult would be the task of conveying the sick knight from out the castle did he persist in his wild cries. Then he placed his arm round him soothingly and tried to still his restless tossings, talking quietly to him the while. "See, now, Sir John, we are going to take thee to the lady Gertrude. She shall tend thee. Keep thee still and all shall be well. Talk not so, dear Sir John, but rest thy head on my shoulder. Soon shall we be out of this fearsome castle and breathe freely the open air of heaven." Then in an urgent whisper he went on: "Come, Peter, there is not an instant to be lost. He is quieting. Wrap those rugs around him and take him gently by the legs. I will bear his head and shoulders."
For the moment the knight's cries sank into indistinct murmurs. He seemed to feel that friends at last were around him, and to be content to resign himself quietly into their hands.
"Whither shall I lead?" whispered Peter, as he opened the door and prepared to issue forth.
"Boldly down the stairs, which should be at the end of the passage. They lead to the main door into the courtyard. If any see us 'twill be Duprez and his man conveying the sick prisoner to another chamber. If any seek to know more we must silence them, and then on."
"Dare we ascend the walls with Sir John in such sore plight, Master Edgar?"
"Nay, 'tis to the drawbridge we must go. We cannot lower a sick man from the walls into the castle moat. We must surprise the sentinel at the gates, and lower away before the alarm is sounded. If only Sir John will keep as quiet as he is now, we may count upon taking the guard unawares. He will doubtless be facing outwards to the foe, and not inwards to the silent courtyard."
Leaving their torch behind them, the two young men crept slowly and silently along the passage with their burden. Halfway along they turned a corner and came full upon a door which stood half-open close by. Light streamed forth, and inside they could hear the regular thud of ironclad heels as a man paced slowly up and down.
Somehow the sound seemed to excite the sick knight they were bearing beyond endurance. Springing suddenly half out of their arms, he cried with tremendous energy:
"To-morrow--in the lists--shalt thou answer for thy crimes, Gervaise de Maupas. At the point of lance or sword--will I prove thy baseness.Laissez aller! On! on! Good steed--stout lance--do thy devoir. Hah! De Maupas, thou art down--yield thee----"
"What have we here?" came in a voice of thunder from the room, and the door was flung wide open by a hand rough and strong. In the doorway, standing out clearly against the light, appeared the short, thick figure of Eustace de Brin, clad from head to foot in dull black armour.
"Back, Peter, back!" whispered Edgar in a voice of desperation. "Carry Sir John, and return the way we came. I must defend the rear against this wolf of Ruthènes. Be rapid, on thy life and ours!"
Relinquishing his share of the burden to his companion, Edgar drew his sword and prepared to defend himself against the attack he knew must come from Sir Eustace. For a moment, however, the latter could see nothing save shadowy figures hovering in the gloom. Sir John had again fallen silent, as though exhausted by his furious outburst.
"Is that thee, Duprez? Art come at last, ye tardy rascal? And what was yon shouting? It sounded like the voice of the mad knight, Chartris. Speak, man! hast lost thy voice?"
Receiving no answer, the speaker, with an angry threat, plunged back into his room, and, plucking a torch from the wall, sprang out into the passage, sword in hand.
Edgar instantly attacked him. Aiming at the torch held on high, he severed it in twain at the first blow. The lighted end dropped down upon the black knight's chest, and from thence to the floor in front of him. Lunging forward to the attack once more, Edgar set his foot upon it and plunged the passage in total darkness, while his sword rattled vengefully against Sir Eustace's harness.
With a cry of impotent fury Sir Eustace sprang back into the room he had left. In the light of the falling torch he had recognized in his adversary the esquire whom he had imprisoned and for whom he was even at that moment impatiently waiting. He had come, indeed, but scarcely in the manner he had expected.
"Thou art mine still!" he shouted madly over his shoulder. "Dearly shalt thou pay for thine insolence!"
Freed for the moment, Edgar turned and sped down the passage as fast as the pitchy darkness would allow. But before he had caught up Peter the quick sharp clang of the alarm bell of the castle rang out with insistent clangour upon the stillness of the night. Instantly shouts and cries arose from all sides as the Ruthènes household and garrison sprang excitedly from their beds. Sir Eustace had lost no time in summoning the castle to arms, and to all appearances Edgar and his companions were caught in the iron jaws of a trap.
"We are lost, Master Edgar," cried Peter despairingly, as Edgar caught him up at the head of the winding staircase which, led downward to the dungeons they had left. "The alarm is sounded, and 'tis impossible that we can escape in face of the castle garrison."
"Courage, Peter!" cried Edgar. "Let me aid thee with Sir John. There is still a slender thread of hope left to us, and we must follow it."
"But why to our dungeons? Dost desire only to sell our lives as dearly as possible?"
"Nay, Peter. Dost not remember that just before we parted from the priest he spoke of a legend among his folk which told of the existence of an underground passage leading from out the castle? As we came from our dungeon a while since, didst not note the flight of stone steps that plunged yet deeper into the bowels of the earth? Our only chance is that the legend is true, and I feel a mighty hope that 'tis so. Onward, lad, onward!"
"But surely there will be gates to either end which we must pass?"
"We have Duprez's keys, and by God's will they will open all doors. Press on! Already I hear the tramp of men along the passages above. See, 'tis the glint of torches in the distance. We are but a minute ahead of despair."
As he spoke they reached level ground at the foot of the winding stairs, and at the entrance to the passage which led into the labyrinth of dungeons. Feeling about, Edgar found the stone steps which he had noticed as he passed, and which at the time had made him wonder momentarily whither they could lead, yet deeper into the earth. Groping and stumbling, the two lads found their way to the bottom with their burden. As they had half-expected, they found farther progress barred by a massive iron-studded door.
Groping down the side, Edgar found a keyhole and inserted a key. It did not fit. Another and another he tried with feverish impatience. The sound of voices and approaching footsteps every moment grew in volume. The search party was already at the foot of the winding staircase, and entering the passage to the dungeons. The light of the torches they carried grew until Edgar could dimly make out the outline of the door which alone, for the moment, stood between them and safety.
Another key--and with a sigh of relief Edgar felt it sink into the lock. A turn with all his strength, and the rusty wards slowly and gratingly yielded. At the very moment when the pursuers reached the head of the stairs above them the door slowly opened, letting out a waft of dank, earthy air that even in their extremity gave them pause. Pitchy foul blackness stretched before them, but behind were the savage retainers of the black knight of Ruthènes.
Suddenly a torch was flung down the narrow flight of steps. Doubtless someone among the searchers above had heard a noise, or suspected that the darkness below perhaps hid the fugitives they sought. The torch fell upon the bottom steps and blazed up, revealing as with the light of day the three crouching figures. There was a wild, irregular shout of surprise and exultation from the men above.