Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- 13th century -- Juvenile fiction; Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction
“’Tis true,” he answered slowly, “with the hanging of Strongbow, we now
have the outlaw bands in wholesome fear; and the Carletons have raised
no battle cry since the fall. ’Tis like they have little will for it
since they were so sorely smitten at the siege and first the Old Wolf
and later young Lionel received their just dues from us and ours. They
have no leaders now save the widowed lady and a fifteen-years old lad
that bears his father’s name of Geoffrey and shall be Lord of Carleton.
Mayhap we have before us some few years to build the fortunes of our
house without let or hindrance from any of that crew at Teramore. But
William shall go with thee to Coventry, ne’ertheless, to see that thou
miss not the road and seek no useless brawls. Listen well to what he
tells thee, and thou’lt make a safe return.”
Now all three of us had our cross-bows slung upon our backs; and I wore
at my side the good Damascus blade which was my dearest pride. We
carried in leathern pouches a store of bread and meat for the midday
meal; and William had made shift to shoot a moorfowl that he spied
running midst the gorse by the wayside.
So, an hour past the noonday, we made camp by a fair stream, set a fire
alight to roast the bird, and feasted right merrily. As we sat about the
embers, filled with the comfort of hunger well sated, I lifted up my
voice in a ballad of which I had many times of late made secret
practice. It went right merrily and clear; and when I had once sung it
through Cedric and old William both urged me on to repeat it. When I
sang again Cedric surprised me much, seeing the untaught forester that
he was, by joining me with a sweet, high contra-melody that wondrously
enhanced the music; and old William too, after a few gruff trials, did
bravely swell the chorus.
Thus pleasantly occupied, and with our carol ringing through the vale,
we heard no sound of hoofbeats, and I looked up with a start to see,
passing along the path, fifty paces from our camp fire, three armed and
mounted travelers.
There were two stout men-at-arms, wearing the braced and quilted jackets
that, against arrows or javelins, so well replace breastplates of steel,
and armed with great two-handed broadswords and poniards. Between them,
and a little to the fore, on a proudly stepping little gelding, rode a
youth of somewhat less than our own years, wearing an embroidered tunic
of white and rose and a sword which hung in a scabbard rich with gold
and gems.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account