All that day Sir John and Jeffrey, his serving-man, trotted forwardthrough the snow--that is, when they were not obliged to walk becauseof the depth of the drifts. Their plan was to reach a certain farm in aglade of the woodland within two hours of sundown, and sleep there, forthey had taken the forest path, leaving again for the Fens and Cambridgeat the dawn. This, however, proved not possible because of the exceedingbadness of the road. So it came about that when the darkness closed inon them a little before five o'clock, bringing with it a cold,moaning wind and a scurry of snow, they were obliged to shelter in afaggot-built woodman's hut, waiting for the moon to appear among theclouds. Here they fed the horses with corn that they had brought withthem, and themselves also from their store of dried meat and barleycakes, which Jeffrey carried on his shoulder in a bag. It was a poormeal eaten thus in the darkness, but served to stay their stomachs andpass away the time.
At length a ray of light pierced the doorway of the hut.
"She's up," said Sir John, "let us be going ere the nags grow stiff."
Making no answer, Jeffrey slipped the bits back into the horses' mouthsand led them out. Now the full moon had appeared like a great white eyebetween two black banks of cloud and turned the world to silver. It wasa dreary scene on which she shone; a dazzling plain of snow, broken bypatches of hawthorns, and here and there by the gaunt shape of a pollardoak, since this being the outskirt of the forest, folk came hither tolop the tops of the trees for firing. A hundred and fifty yards awayor so, at the crest of a slope, was a round-shaped hill, made, not byNature, but by man. None knew what that hill might be, but traditionsaid that once, hundreds or thousands of years before, a big battlehad been fought around it in which a king was killed, and that hisvictorious army had raised this mound above his bones to be a memorialfor ever.
The story was indeed that, being a sea-king, they had built a boat ordragged it thither from the river shore and set him in it with all theslain for rowers; also that he might be seen at nights seated on hishorse in armour, and staring about him, as when he directed the battle.At least it is true that the mount was called King's Grave, and thatpeople feared to pass it after sundown.
As Jeffrey Stokes was holding his master's stirrup for him to mount,he uttered an exclamation and pointed. Following the line of hisoutstretched hand, in the clear moonlight Sir John saw a man, who sat,still as any statue, upon a horse on the very point of King's Grave.He appeared to be covered with a long cloak, but above it his helmetglittered like silver. Next moment a fringe of black cloud hid the faceof the moon, and when it passed away the man and horse were gone.
"What did that fellow there?" asked Sir John.
"Fellow?" answered Jeffrey in a shaken voice, "I saw none. That was theGhost of the Grave. My grandfather met him ere he came to his end in theforest, none know how, for the wolves, of which there were plenty inhis day, picked his bones clean, and so have many others for hundreds ofyears; always just before their doom. He is an ill fowl, that Ghostof the Grave, and those who clap eyes on him do wisely to turn theirhorses' heads homewards, as I would to-night if I had my way, master."
"What use, Jeffrey? If the sight of him means death, death will come.Moreover, I believe nothing of the tale. Your ghost was some forestreeve or herdsman."
"A forest reeve or herdsman who wanders about in a steel helm on a finehorse in snow-time when there are no trees to cut or cattle to mind!Well, have it as you will, master; only God save me from such reeves andherdmen, for I think they hail from hell."
"Then he was a spy watching whither we go," answered Sir John angrily.
"If so, who sent him? The Abbot of Blossholme? In that case I wouldsooner meet the devil, for this means mischief. I say that we had betterride back to Shefton."
"Then do so, Jeffrey, if you are scared, and I will go on alone, who,being on an honest business, fear not Satan or an abbot, either."
"Nay, master. Many a year ago, when we were younger, I stood by you onFlodden Field when Sir Edward, Christopher Harflete's father, was killedat our side, and those red-bearded Scotch bare-breeks pressed us hard,yet I never itched to turn my back, even after that great fellow with anaxe got you down, and we thought that all was lost. Then shall I doso now?--though it is true that I fear yon goblin more than all theHighlanders beyond the Tweed. Ride on; man can die but once, and for mypart I care not when it comes, who have little to lose in an ill world."
So without more words they started forward, peering about them as theywent. Soon the forest thickened, and the track they followed wound itsway round great trunks of primeval oaks, or the edges of bog-holes, orthrough brakes of thorns. Hard enough it was to find it at times, sincethe snow made it one with the bordering ground, and the gloom of theoaks was great. But Jeffrey was a woodman born, and from his childhoodhad known the shape of every tree in that waste, so that they heldsafely to their road. Well would it have been for them if they had not!
They came to a place where three other tracks crossed that which theyrode upon, and here Jeffrey Stokes, who was ahead, held up his hand.
"What is it?" asked Sir John.
"It is the marks of ten or a dozen shod horses passed within two hours,since the last snow fell. And who be they, I wonder?"
"Doubtless travellers like ourselves. Ride on, man; that farm is not amile ahead."
Then Jeffrey broke out.
"Master, I like it not," he said. "Battle-horses have gone by here, notchapmen's or farmers' nags, and I think I know their breed. I say thatwe had best turn about if we would not walk into some snare."
"Turn you, then," grumbled Sir John indifferently. "I am cold and weary,and seek my rest."
"Pray God that you may not find it when you are colder," mutteredJeffrey, spurring his horse.
They went on through the dead winter silence, that was broken only bythe hoots of a flitting owl hungry for the food that it could not find,and the swish of the feet of a galloping fox as it looped past themthrough the snow. Presently they came to an open place ringed in byforest, so wet that only marsh-trees would grow there. To their rightlay a little ice-covered mere, with sere, brown reeds standing here andthere upon its face, and at the end of it a group of stark pollardedwillows, whereof the tops had been cut for poles by those who dwelt inthe forest farm near by. Sir John looked at the place and shivered alittle--perhaps because the frost bit him. Or was it that he rememberedhis daughter's dream, which told of such a spot? At any rate, he set histeeth, and his right hand sought the hilt of his sword. His weary horsesniffed the air and neighed, and the neigh was answered from close athand.
"Thank the saints! we are nearer to that farm than I thought," said SirJohn.
As he spoke the words a number of men appeared galloping down on themfrom out of the shelter of a thorn-brake, and the moonlight shone on thebared weapons in their hands.
"Thieves!" shouted Sir John. "At them now, Jeffrey, and win through tothe farm."
The man hesitated, for he saw that their foes were many and no commonrobbers, but his master drew his sword and spurred his beast, so hemust do likewise. In twenty seconds they were among them, and some onecommanded them to yield. Sir John rushed at the fellow, and, rising inhis stirrups, cut him down. He fell all of a heap and lay still in thesnow, which grew crimson about him. One came at Jeffrey, who turned hishorse so that the blow missed, then took his weight upon the point ofhis sword, so that this man, too, fell down and lay in the snow, movingfeebly.
The rest, thinking this greeting too warm for them, swung round andvanished again among the thorns.
"Now ride for it," said Jeffrey.
"I cannot," answered Sir John. "One of those knaves has hurt my mare,"and he pointed to blood that ran from a great gash in the beast'sforeleg, which it held up piteously.
"Take mine," said Jeffrey; "I'll dodge them afoot."
"Never, man! To the willows; we will hold our own there;" and, springingfrom the wounded beast, which tried to hobble after them, but could not,for its sinews were cut, he ran to
the shelter of the trees, followed byJeffrey on his horse.
"Who are these rogues?" he asked.
"The Abbot's men-at-arms," answered Jeffrey. "I saw the face of him Ispitted."
Now Sir John's jaw dropped.
"Then we are sped, friend, for they dare not let us go. Cicely dreamswell."
As he spoke an arrow whistled by them.
"Jeffrey," he went on, "I have papers on me that should not be lost,for with them might go my girl's heritage. Take them," and he thrusta packet into his hand, "and this purse also. There's plenty in it.Away--anywhere, and lie hid out of reach a while, or they'll still yourtongue. Then I charge you on your soul, come back with help and hangthat knave Abbot--for your Lady's sake, Jeffrey. She'll reward you, andso will God above."
The man thrust away purse and deeds in some deep pocket.
"How can I leave you to be butchered?" he muttered, grinding his teeth.
As the words left his lips he heard his master utter a gurgling sound,and saw that an arrow, shot from behind, had pierced him through thethroat; saw, too, he who was skilled in war, that the wound was mortal.Then he hesitated no longer.
"Christ rest you!" he said. "I'll do your bidding or die;" and, turninghis horse, he drove the rowels into its sides, causing it to bound awaylike a deer.
For a moment the stricken Sir John watched him go. Then he ran out ofhis cover, shaking his sword above his head--ran into the open moonlightto draw the arrows. They came fast enough, but ere ever he fell, forthat steel shirt of his was strong, Jeffrey, lying low on his horse'sneck, was safe away, and though the murderers followed hard they nevercaught him.
Nor, though they searched for days, could they find him at Shefton orelsewhere, for Jeffrey, who knew that all roads were blocked, and whodared not venture home, doubling like a hare across country, had wondown to the water, where a ship lay foreign bound, and by dawn was onthe sea.
The Lady of Blossholme Page 4