第 10 页

However, I have had diligent search made for you. All the houses of bad

repute have been examined, and their inhabitants questioned. But there

are so many camp-followers and other rabble at present in the town that

a hundred men might disappear without our being able to obtain a clue. I

doubted not indeed that your body had been thrown in the river, and that

we should never hear more of you. I am right glad that you have been

restored; not indeed from any fear of the threats of the king your

master, but because, from what the Earl of Evesham said, you were a lad

likely to come to great fame and honour. The earl left in my charge your

horse, and the armour which he said you wore at a tournament lately, in

case we should hear aught of you."

Cuthbert gave an exclamation of pleasure. His purse contained but a few

pieces of silver, and being without arms except for his short dagger, or

means of locomotion, the difficulties of the journey down to Marseilles

had sorely puzzled him. But with his good horse between his knees, and

his suit of Milan armour on his back, he thought that he might make his

way through any dangers which threatened him.

The prior now told the knight that circumstances had occurred, which

showed that it was known to the assailants of Cuthbert that he had taken

refuge in the convent, over which a strict watch had been kept by

Cuthbert's enemies.

"If I could find the varlets, I would hang them over the gates of the

town," the knight said wrathfully. "But as at the present moment there

are nearly as many rogues as honest men in the place, it would be a

wholesale hanging indeed to ensure getting hold of the right people.

Moreover, it is not probable that another attempt upon his life will be

made inside our walls; and doubtless the main body of this gang are

somewhere without, intending to assault him when he continues his

journey, and they have left but a spy or two here to inform them as to

his movements. I will give you any aid in my power, young sir. The army

is by this time nigh Marseilles, and, sooth to say, I have no body of

men-at-arms whom I could send as your escort for so long a distance. I

have but a small body here, and they are needed, and sorely too, to keep

order within the walls."

"I thought, sir," Cuthbert said, "that if you could lend me a party of

say four men-at-arms to ride with me for the first day, I could then

trust to myself, especially if you could procure me one honest man to act

as guide and companion. Doubtless they suppose that I should travel by

the main road south; but by going the first day's journey either east or

west, and then striking some southward road, I should get a fair start of

them, throw all their plans out, and perchance reach Marseilles without

interruption."

The knight willingly agreed to furnish four men-at-arms, and a

trustworthy guide who would at least take him as far south as Avignon.

"I will," he said, "tell the men-at-arms off to-night. They shall be

at the western gate at daybreak with the pass permitting them to ride

through. The guide shall be at the convent door half an hour earlier.

I will send up to-night your armour and horse. Here is a purse which

the Earl of Evesham also left for your use. Is there aught else I can

do for you?"

"Nothing, sir," Cuthbert said; "and if I regain the army in safety, I

shall have pleasure in reporting to King Richard how kindly and

courteously you have treated me."

The arrangements were carried out.

An hour before daybreak Cuthbert was aroused, donned his armour and steel

casque, drank a flask of wine, and ate a manchet of bread which the

prior himself brought him; and then, with a cordial adieu to the kind

monks, issued forth.

The guide had just reached the gate, and together they trotted down the

narrow streets to the west gate of the city, where four men-at-arms were

awaiting them.

The gates were at once opened, and Cuthbert and his little troop

sallied forth.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE ATTACK.

All day they rode with their faces west, and before nightfall had made a

journey of over forty miles. Then bestowing a largess upon the

men-at-arms, Cuthbert dismissed them, and took up his abode at a

hostelry, his guide looking to the two horses.

Cuthbert was pleased with the appearance of the man who had been placed

at his disposal. He was a young fellow of two-or-three-and-twenty, with

an honest face. He was, he told Cuthbert, the son of a small farmer near

Avignon; but having a fancy for trade, he had been apprenticed to a

master smith. Having served his apprenticeship, he found that he had

mistaken his vocation, and intended to return to the paternal vineyards.

Cuthbert calculated that he would make at least four days' journey to the

south before he could meet with any dangers. Doubtless his exit from the

convent had been discovered, and the moment the gates of the city were

opened the spy would have proceeded south to warn his comrades, and these

would doubtless have taken a road which at a distance would again take

them on to that by which Cuthbert would be now travelling. As, however,

he rode fast, and made long marches each day, he hoped that he might

succeed in distancing them. Unfortunately, upon the third day his horse

cast his shoe, and no smith could be met with until the end of the day's

journey. Consequently, but a short distance could be done, and this at a

slow pace. Upon the fifth day after their first start they arrived at a

small town.

The next morning, Cuthbert on rising found that his guide did not present

himself as usual. Making inquiries, he found that the young man had gone

out the evening before, and had not returned. Extremely uneasy at the

circumstance, Cuthbert went to the city guard, thinking that perhaps his

guide might have got drunk, and been shut up in the cells. No news,

however, was to be obtained there, and after waiting some hours, feeling

sure that some harm had befallen him, he gave notice to the authorities

of his loss, and then, mounting his horse, and leaving some money with

the landlord of the hostelry to give to his guide in case the latter

should return, he started at mid-day by the southern road.

He felt sure now that he was overtaken, and determined to keep his eyes

and faculties thoroughly on watch.

The roads in those days were mere tracks. Here and there a little

village was to be met with; but the country was sparsely cultivated, and

travelling lonely work. Cuthbert rode fast, carefully avoiding all copses

and small woods through which the road ran, by making a circuit round

them and coming on to it again on the other side.

His horse was an excellent one, the gift of the earl, and he had little

fear, with his light weight, of being overtaken, if he could once leave

his enemies behind him.

At length he approached an extensive forest, which stretched for miles on

either side.

Half a mile before he reached it the track divided.

He had for some little time eased his horse down to a walk, as he felt

that the wood would be the spot where he would in all probability be

attacked, and he needed that his steed should be possessed of its

utmost vigour.

At the spot where the track branched, a man in the guise of a mendicant

was sitting. He begged for alms, and Cuthbert threw him a small coin.

A sudden thought struck him as he heard a rustling in the bushes near.

"Which is the nearest and best road to Avignon?" he said.

"The right-hand road is the best and shortest," the beggar said. "The

other makes a long circuit, and leads through several marshes, which your

honour will find it hard to pass."

Cuthbert thanked him, and moved forward, still at a walk, along the

right-hand road.

When he had gone about 200 yards, and was hidden from the sight of the

man he had left--the country being rough, and scattered with clumps of

bushes--he halted, and, as he expected, heard the sound of horses' hoofs

coming on at full gallop along the other road.

"Your master must have thought me young indeed," he said, "to try and

catch me with such a transparent trick as that. I do not suppose that

accursed page has more than ten men with him, and doubtless has placed

five on each road. This fellow was placed here to see which track I would

follow, and has now gone to give the party on the left hand the news that

I have taken this way. Had it not been for him I should have had to run

the gauntlet with four or five of my enemies. As it is, the path will

doubtless be clear."

So saying, he turned his horse, galloped back to the spot where the

tracks separated, and then followed the left-hand route.

As he had hoped, he passed through the wood without incident or

interruption, and arrived safely that night at a small town, having seen

no signs of his enemies.

The next day he started again early, and rode on until mid-day, when he

halted at a large village, at which was the only inn between the place

from which he started and his destination. He declined the offer of the

servant of the inn to take his horse round to the stable, telling the

man to hold him outside the door and give him from a sieve a few

handfuls of grain.

Then he entered the inn and ate a hearty meal. As he appeared at the

door, he saw several men gathered near. With a single spring he threw

himself into the saddle, just as a rush forward was made by those

standing round. The man next to him sprang upon him, and endeavoured to

drag him from the saddle. Cuthbert drew the little dagger called a

Mis,ricorde from his belt, and plunged it into his throat. Then seizing

the short mace which hung at the saddle bow, he hurled it with all his

force full in the face of his enemy, the page of Sir Philip, who was

rushing upon him sword in hand. The heavy weapon struck him fairly

between the eyes, and with a cry he fell back, his face completely

smashed in by the blow, the sword which he held uplifted to strike flying

far through the air.

Cuthbert struck his spurs into his horse, and the animal dashed forward

with a bound, Cuthbert striking with his long sword at one or two men who

made a snatch at the reins. In another minute he was cantering out of

the village, convinced that he had killed the leader of his foes, and

that he was safe now to pursue the rest of his journey on to Marseilles.

So it turned out.

Without further incident, he travelled through the south of France, and

arrived at the great seaport. He speedily discovered the quarters in

which the Earl of Evesham's contingent were encamped, and made towards

this without delay. As he entered a wild shout of joy was heard, and Cnut

ran forward with many gestures of delight.

"My dear Cuthbert, my dear Cuthbert!" he exclaimed. "Can it be true that

you have escaped? We all gave you up; and although I did my best, yet had

you not survived it I should never have forgiven myself, believing that I

might have somehow done better, and have saved you from the cut-throats

who attacked us."

"Thanks, thanks, my good Cnut," Cuthbert cried. "I have been through a

time of peril, no doubt; but as you see, I am hale and well--better,

methinks than you are, for you look pale and ill; and I doubt not that

the wound which I received was a mere scratch to that which bore you

down. It sounded indeed like the blow of a smith's hammer upon an anvil."

"Fortunately, my steel cap saved my head somewhat," Cnut said, "and the

head itself is none of the thinnest; but it tried it sorely, I confess.

However, now that you are back I shall, doubt not, soon be as strong as

ever I was. I think that fretting for your absence has kept me back more

than the inflammation from the wound itself--but there is the Earl at the

door of his tent."

Through the foresters and retainers who had at Cnut's shout of joy

crowded up, Cuthbert made his way, shaking hands right and left with the

men, among whom he was greatly loved, for they regarded him as being in a

great degree the cause of their having been freed from outlawry, and

restored to civil life again. The earl was really affected. As Cuthbert

rode up he held out both arms, and as his page alighted he embraced him

as a father.

"My dear Cuthbert!" he exclaimed. "What anxiety have we not suffered. Had

you been my own son, I could not have felt more your loss. We did not

doubt for an instant that you had fallen into the hands of some of the

retainers of that villain Count; and from all we could learn, and from

the absence of any dead body by the side of that of Cnut, I imagined that

you must have been carried off. It was clear that your chance of life, if

you fell into the hands of that evil page, or his equally vile master,

was small indeed. The very day that Cnut was brought in, I visited the

French camp, and accused him of having been the cause of your

disappearance and Cnut's wounds. He affected the greatest astonishment at

the charge. He had not, as he said, been out of the camp for two days. My

accusation was unfounded and malicious, and I should answer this as well

as the previous outrage, when the vow of the Crusaders to keep peace

among themselves was at an end. Of course I had no means of proving what

I said, or I would have gone direct to the king and charged him with the

outrage. As it was I gained nothing by my pains. He has accompanied this

French division to Genoa; but when we meet at Sicily, where the two

armies are to rendezvous, I will bring the matter before the king, as the

fact that his page was certainly concerned in it must be taken as showing

that he was the instigator."

"It would, my lord earl, be perhaps better," Cuthbert said, "if I

might venture to advise, to leave the matter alone. No doubt the count

would say that he had discharged his page after the tournament, and

that the latter was only carrying out his private feud with me. We

should not be able to disprove the story, and should gain no