Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- 13th century -- Juvenile fiction; Knights and knighthood -- Juvenile fiction
We had made little more than half of our way to the outlaw stronghold
when Lord Mountjoy, in coming down a streamlet bank in the darkness,
stepped heavily on a stone that rolled beneath his weight, and went to
the ground with his right foot twisted under him. He gave a groan of
pain, yet in an instant was up again to resume his march. But then ’twas
found this could not be. His ankle had been most sorely wrenched, and
would not at all endure his weight. He sank down again on a leafy bank,
and called us to him. Amidst half stifled groans and grumblings at his
ill fortune he declared he could not move from thence without
assistance. There was no help for it; he must await our return.
Therefore he gave o’er to me the leadership of the venture. We left with
him two stout men-at-arms, and went quickly on, for now it seemed the
sunrise could not be long in coming.
At the fourth hour of the morning we lay by the streamlet bed, two
hundred paces from the robbers’ sentry post in the rocky passage. Cedric
and old Marvin had left us to climb the hillside by another route and
gain the branches of the great oak tree. Already there was a grayness in
the dark that told of the coming dawn. Half an hour passed, and by
little and little the trunks of the trees grew more clearly to be seen
and we could well make out each other’s faces. Roosting wild fowl roused
themselves, and flew away with a clatter of wings. We knew that Cedric
and Marvin awaited the daylight to make sure their aim. At last, on the
top of a tall tree above me, I spied a beam of sunlight.
Immediately, as it seemed, there came from the oak tree the call of an
owl, twice repeated. This was the signal for which we waited; and we
sprang up together and ran, as silently as might be, toward the pathway
entrance. We gained it unmolested, and with Geoffrey and me in the lead,
quickly came upon the bodies of the sentries. Cedric and Marvin, from
their post in the tree, had well done their work. The sentinels had
perished silently, each with a bolt through his skull.
We rushed forward; and now some of our arms rang against the stones; and
there was a cry from above us. This was no time for stealth and
creeping. On we went with a rush and with a clatter of heels on the
rocks of the path and of steel against steel as we jostled one another
in the race.
In a moment we were at the cavern’s mouth; and found a score of the
robbers on their feet to meet us. Arrows whizzed among us and one or two
men fell, mortally hurt. Geoffrey let fly his bolt at a tall villain
that stood in his path, and shot him fair between the eyes. Then I saw
no more for I was face to face with the outlaw chief, and our swords
flashed fire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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