The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the FirstFenn, George Manville
History
The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain -- History -- James I, 1603-1625 -- Juvenile fiction
"Well, it would be plenty of time to awaken my father if they came and
tried," said Mark. "Look here, then, we'll wait; and let it be in
perfect silence, so that we may hear if they come as far as the other
side of the wall."
The men were as obedient to his orders as to those of Sir Edward, and
they all sat or lay about, with their weapons close to their hands,
listening in the darkness, the calm and silence being good for thought;
and before long Mark's brain was at work thinking about the state of
affairs at the castle, to which he had been three times since the siege
began, to see his sister and learn how Ralph Darley was progressing.
The news was always bad, Master Rayburn shaking his head and looking
very serious.
"Bad hurts, Mark, boy," he said, "bad hurts. I hope, please God, he may
be spared; but I have my fears."
"Master Rayburn!" cried Mark wildly. "Oh! you must not--you shall not
let the brave fellow die."
"I'd give my poor old life to save his," said the old man sadly. "We
can only wait and hope."
And as Mark sat in the dark natural chamber formed in the old limestone
hill, he recalled Ralph's white, fire-scarred face, looking pale and
unnaturally drawn, and wondered that he should feel so low-spirited
about one who was an enemy and almost a stranger, till his musings were
interrupted by a dull sound on the other side of the wall--a sound which
came after the long period of utter silence which had succeeded to the
noise made by forcing out and rolling down stones.
No one else heard the faint sound, and setting it down to fancy, Mark
was thinking again about the prisoners within, and wondering what
treatment they were receiving from the enemy.
It seemed hard enough for Sir Morton Darley, but Mark could not help
feeling how terrible it must be for a delicately sensitive girl.
Then once more he heard that sound, which he felt sure could only be
caused by a foot kicking against a stone.
Just then there was a faint rustling, a hand was laid upon his arm, and
Dummy whispered:
"Hear that, Master Mark?"
"Yes. Don't talk," whispered Mark, and the two lads, who were well upon
the alert, listened in perfect silence, till all at once there was a
faint gleam of light, so feeble that it could hardly be distinguished,
but there it was, close to the roof, and Mark was satisfied that it must
come over the top of their defensive wall.
Then all was still for a minute or two, till the two mentally saw what
was taking place--some one was passing his hands over the built-up
stones, and trying whether one of them could be dislodged.
Then all was still again, and the light died out.
It was not till hours after that any further sound was heard, and this
time Sir Edward was awake and about, passing from the dark chamber where
the sentries were on guard to the light outside, and back again.
Mark went with him, and Sir Edward had just happened to say in a
whisper:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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