Part 10

De Maupas frowned and momentarily checked his stride. "That is a long story," he said. "I am here out of no alliance with the enemies of our country; rather indeed to further its interests, for I am gaining much useful knowledge. But thou art indeed right when thou sayest the owner of this grim castle is a man of ill reputation. The scenes these cells have beheld would appal the stoutest heart could they be unfolded. Beware, then, that thou sharest not the fate of thy predecessors. Sir Eustace, I know, is deeply enraged with thee. He says thou art the first man to dare enter his castle without his permission, and he purposes to slay thee. Knowing thee for a fellow countryman, I intervened, and with such influence as I possess begged him to allow me to offer thee a hope of life--life in the open air and sunshine, not cooped within the narrow limits of a cell that must sooner or later drive thee mad. Say then, dost desire to accept my offer?"

"What is this offer?" asked Edgar shortly. "We are ready enough to leave this cell, as thou canst well imagine. But we must carry our honour unsullied with us."

"I will watch over thine honour as I would over mine own," cried De Maupas emphatically. Then, not noticing the half-smile his declaration had conjured up, he went on, "Ye may have heard that I claim to be the rightful owner of the estates now held by Sir John Chartris? Mine they are, and I hold that he is keeping me out of them by nothing less than trickery and fraud. I have vowed to meet trickery by trickery, fraud by fraud, and I have, as ye know, captured Sir John and am holding him to ransom. My price for his release is an acknowledgment of my better claim to the estates. What could be more reasonable? Unfortunately, for himself as well as for me, he is proving obstinate. He will not yield his ill-gotten lands, and in my good nature, desiring not to do him hurt, I have cast about and found a way out of the difficulty. He shall keep the lands, but must assist me to the best of his power to win compensation in another direction. That is most fair, is it not, young sir? You see, I am trusting you fully, well knowing the justice of my cause."

"Yes, yes," replied Edgar quickly, "but what is this compensation?" The knight's tone and bearing were so smooth and peaceable, and he seemed in so reasonable a frame of mind, that Edgar's opinion of him, well grounded though it was, was almost shaken.

"'Tis simply this. I am deeply enamoured of his ward, Beatrice d'Alencon, and would fain win her hand in marriage. All I ask are his good offices and influence to aid my suit. Could I be more magnanimous towards one whom I regard as a lifelong foe?"

Utterly astounded at the extraordinary change of front, for a moment Edgar could but gape. Then he recovered himself and asked quickly, "But thou know'st not the lady D'Alencon. Thou hast, to my knowledge, spoken not one word to her. How then canst say thou art enamoured of her?"

"How could I approach her? My enmity with Sir John was so great that I should but have exposed myself to humiliation had I tried to make her closer acquaintance. As it was, I was forced to worship from afar."

"De Maupas, thou art twice her age and more, and I find it hard indeed to believe thy story. Her lands are wide, and in their breadth alone I fear thy love has found its birth."

"It is not so, Edgar Wintour. I have a real fancy for the maid, though I would not deny that her lands are of importance in my eyes. But I am a knight of birth; one too, who, if he had his rights, would own lands as wide and rich as hers. Therefore it seemeth to me that I am a fitting match for Beatrice d'Alencon. But enough of explanations. I am about to make the offer to Sir John, and to thee I make an offer no less generous. Aid me in persuading Sir John and after, and ye shall both go free. Refuse, and ye must rot in this loathsome dungeon--rot or go mad: one or other is as certain in the course of a few weeks as it is certain that Gervaise de Maupas stands before thee."

Our hero was undoubtedly staggered at the offer so skilfully held out as an honourable exchange for Sir John's life and the claims De Maupas had long laid to his estates. Sir John's life was all important in Edgar's eyes, and could a means be found by which it might be honourably saved the loss of the estates of either ward or guardian weighed with him but little by comparison. The offer of De Maupas was therefore not one to be dismissed without consideration. He therefore took refuge in silence, while he tried to wrest any hidden motives for the offer there might be from the network of clever words in which he half-feared De Maupas had shrouded his real plans.

There could be no doubt that Sir John had refused to purchase his life at the expense of his estates and the rights of his successors. That much was clear from De Maupas's presence in the cell that moment. Foiled in his first move, and unwilling to take Sir John's life while some profit might be made of it, he had bethought him of a plan by which he might purchase his rights and influence over his ward, the lady Beatrice. Her lands were even wider and richer than her guardian's, and the wily plotter had hit upon a way of obtaining them that would, he knew, pass muster readily enough as knightly and honourable.

The story of his passion for her was doubtless trumped up for the occasion, to give an air of romance and honourable dealing to what was little more than barefaced robbery. Nevertheless, it was a story that would be widely believed, though that Beatrice must and always would loathe the man, Edgar felt not the slightest doubt.

It was more than probable, too, that De Maupas had already broached his plan to Sir John, and, meeting with a rebuff, had bethought him of Edgar and hoped to obtain his aid in persuading his master. The more Edgar thought over the scheme, however, and the more he stripped it of its trappings of pretended love and romance, the more he felt it to be every whit as shameful as the first plan by which De Maupas had sought to obtain the Wolsingham lands by threats and violence.

"What is to be your answer to my generous offer, young sir?" said De Maupas at length. He still paced slowly to and fro the length of the cell, and his bearing was as easy and confident as ever. Edgar, however, had been not unheedful of the quick furtive glances he had cast at him every now and again as he turned in his stride.

"I will have no part in this matter, De Maupas," Edgar replied quickly. "I trust thee not, and much of thy story I cannot believe. More than that, I am not ready to purchase my life at another's expense."

"It is Sir John's life, too, that thou art casting away like a fool," cried De Maupas angrily.

"Sir John hath, I doubt not, already told thee that he prefers death to dishonour. I, his esquire, say the same, on both his account and my own."

A malignant look flamed up on the knight's face, and Edgar knew that he had judged his plans and motives aright.

"Death thou certainly shalt have, boy--I have sworn it long since," cried De Maupas furiously, placing his hand on his dagger as though he longed to carry his threat into instant execution. "But if thou think'st to obtain an honourable death with thy blood coursing warmly through thy veins, thou wilt be mistaken. Slowly, inch by inch, in silence and despair, shalt thou die--not with the plaudits of thousands ringing in thine ears as when, like a mad fool, thou didst brave my lifelong anger. Bah! I shall yet see thee blench and, cringing at my feet, beg for thy life and a glimpse of open air and sky. I can tell thee that the past has shown that these monkish walls have a secret of their own for crushing wills stronger far than thine."

As he spoke the last few words the knight eyed Edgar with a gaze so stern and menacing that it seemed as though he hoped by its very intensity to cow him into submission.

"Never will I cringe to thee, Gervaise de Maupas," cried Edgar hotly, returning him look for look.

"We shall see," growled De Maupas savagely, as he turned sharply on his heel and left the cell, jerking the door to with a dull crash behind him.

*CHAPTER XIV*

*A Desperate Venture*

As soon as the excitement caused by the sudden appearance of De Maupas had begun to subside, Edgar recollected something that he had heard while the interview was proceeding, but which he had then no time to dwell upon. This was a strange sound, muffled and indistinct as though coming from a distance, which, having no opportunity for listening attentively, he had been unable to define. It might have been, he now thought, the cry of an animal or even of some human being in distress.

"Didst hear what sounded like distant cries while the door stood open, Peter?"

"I did, Master Edgar. They sounded strange and unearthly and I could make nothing of them. I heard the like when Duprez brought us food yesterday, but took no heed."

"Ah! Can it be that they are torturing Sir John to compel him to yield compliance with their infamous projects?" exclaimed Edgar, beginning to pace restlessly up and down the cell as well as his shackles would permit. "De Maupas and this Black Eustace are, I verily believe, capable of deeds every whit as base and pitiless."

"Thinkest thou so?" cried Peter excitedly. "Then let us spring upon our jailers and, if need be, perish in an effort to save our master from so fearful a fate."

"Truly it is intolerable that we should remain supine here," replied Edgar in a voice vibrating with emotion, "but to attack our jailers, shackled as we are, would mean, I fear, but certain defeat. Would I could think of some way--but, yes, I have 't! Dost see yon bracket above the door?"

"Aye, sir, what wouldst do? Tear it down and use it as a weapon?"

"Nay, it looks to be embedded so deeply in the masonry that 'twould need weeks of work to loosen it. My thought was that could I climb upon it I might, at his next entry, spring upon Duprez all unawares. My weight and the shock of it might well rid us of him for the time and leave us two, shackled and without weapons, to face one man armed. Joyfully will we not accept the odds?"

"Aye, to that," cried Peter eagerly. "The plan soundeth well if the bracket will hold thy weight, and thou canst reach up to get upon it all cumbered with thine irons."

"Let us try, Peter. Stand close against the door and let me climb upon thy shoulders. Though I cannot move my hands higher than my waist, I think I can yet make shift to clamber up."

The bracket above the door on to which Edgar was endeavouring to climb consisted of a thick bar of iron with a socket, into which Duprez had thrust the torch when he had first entered the cell with his prisoners. It was thickly crusted with rust, but was so massive that it seemed likely enough that it would more than bear Edgar's weight.

After a few minutes' clambering he managed to perch himself upon the bar, and by resting his back flat against the wall, could hold himself steady in his difficult position. Did Duprez and his man enter while he was in that position, it seemed easy to leap upon one of them and to bear him to the ground with crushing force.

"It offers good hopes of freedom, Peter!" exclaimed Edgar exultingly as he clambered with difficulty down from his dizzy position. "If we can overcome our two jailers, we shall be able to don their cloaks and issue forth freely. Did we only dare wait for darkness, we should, I doubt not, be able to reach the walls with little chance of discovery."

"They have taken our ropes," observed Peter.

"A plunge from the walls into the moat will not come amiss if Sir John be not injured. We can flounder out and be hidden in the woods ere ever the drawbridge can be lowered. What is it, Peter? Hast heard something?"

"Yes, yes, I think I can hear footsteps in the distance outside. Quickly, Master Edgar--wilt thou not clamber up above the door and be ready?"

Hastily Edgar prepared to climb, but before he was halfway up he heard sounds that brought him leaping to the ground. Placing his ear to one of the cracks of the door, he listened with agonized attention. Again in the distance he could hear the strange wails and screams which he had heard before.

"Listen, Peter, and tell me what ye think."

Peter obeyed. "I can make no more of it than before," he remarked after a pause. "The sounds seem like nothing that I----But hark! I can hear the sound of footsteps coming and going. We shall have Duprez here anon."

But the two prisoners were left undisturbed. The noise of footsteps died away, and with it the strange sounds that had so puzzled and alarmed Edgar--nay, alarmed him still, for he could not help connecting the sounds with Sir John, and feared that his ruthless enemies might be torturing or tormenting him into acquiescence in their plans. The more he thought of it the more he felt that such might be the case, and the more impatient he became to escape and hasten to his master's aid.

"Come, Peter," he cried at last, "we shall do little more by taking thought. At the next visit of Duprez we must try conclusions. Aid me to practise mounting rapidly to the bracket, so that when we next hear footsteps I may be prepared for action without loss of time."

For half an hour Edgar practised until he could clamber up and get ready with great rapidity. Night had by that time fallen, and as it seemed unlikely that Duprez would visit them again that day, they gathered the rugs together and disposed themselves to sleep.

Scarcely had they dozed off, however, when they were awakened by the sound of footsteps close at hand and by the glint of a light beneath the door. The moment of their opportunity had come! Duprez was doubtless at the door.

With feverish impatience, Edgar hastened to the door and began to clamber up to his station. His movements were cramped and impeded by his shackles and the absolute necessity that no clanking of chains should warn their jailers that the prisoners were up and doing. Ere he had fully gained his coign of vantage the key was grating in the lock, and Peter had barely time to scuttle back to the farthest corner of the cell and to crouch down among the rugs, feigning sleep, before the door began to swing back upon its hinges.

"Come, ye proud varlets, ye are honoured tonight. Sir Eustace desires speech with you. Ha, ha! Much comfort to you 'twill be, I'll warrant."

As he spoke Duprez strode into the cell, followed by another man who carried a torch, which he raised above his head to catch a glimpse of the prisoners.

With a sudden spring, Edgar flung himself down upon the torchbearer, landing full upon him and crushing him to the ground with stunning force. The torch spun from his hand into a corner, and lay there spluttering in the damp, shedding a feeble, fitful light upon the scene. With a loud shout of alarm, Duprez grasped his sword by the hilt and strove to pluck it from its sheath. Before he could do so, however, Edgar had sprung upon him from the rear, whilst Peter seized him round the legs from the front. Down he went headlong, struggling furiously and shouting for aid, until Edgar grasped him by the throat and choked the sound with a grip of iron. Meanwhile the man who had borne the torch lay without a movement. His forehead had struck the flagstones with a force that had rendered him unconscious.

"Tear me some strips from yon rugs," cried Edgar in a minute or two, when Duprez, half-choked and fully mastered, had begun to relax his struggles. "Take this dagger--quick!"

Peter drew the dagger from its sheath, and in a few seconds had slit off some strips of hide from the rough sheepskin rugs. With these Edgar bound Duprez's arms securely behind his back. The other man was then trussed in similar fashion, though, so far, he had shown no sign of returning consciousness.

"Peter," continued Edgar with breathless energy as soon as their jailers were secure, "place the torch upright against the wall and bend all thine energies to ridding thyself and me of our shackles. We have two swords and a dagger. That should be sufficient for an armourer's assistant. Get quickly to work, or it will be too late. Be silent if thou canst."

He then turned to Duprez.

"Dost wish to live, scoundrel?" he said sternly. "Thou knowest as certainly as we do that our lives are forfeit if taken--dost then think we are likely to spare thee? What dost bid for thy life?"

"What want ye?" gasped Duprez, whose face was livid and full of fear as the wild shackled figure stooped over him, grasping a dagger snatched from the belt of the other man.

"A few words--no more. But they may spell life to thee."

"Ask."

"Where is Sir John Chartris?"

"The other prisoner--the man who came a week agone?"

"Yes, a man of knightly bearing, aged some forty years."

"He is in this donjon, in a room near Sir Eustace. He was in one of these cells but a few hours since."

"What! Was his, then, the voice we heard? You have tortured him, inhuman monsters!" and Edgar, in his anger, thrust the point of the dagger so close to Duprez's neck that the man winced with fear.

"Nay, nay, good sir, we have tortured him not. He contracted a fever two days after he came, and is wild with delirium. Sir Eustace feared to lose him if he kept him in these dungeons, and had him taken to a room halfway up the keep."

"Ah! Tell me how I may reach this room."

Sullenly the man obeyed.

"These keys at thy belt. Which is the key of Sir John's room?"

Again the man gave the information desired, and Edgar, satisfied that he had obtained all that he required, stripped him of his cloak and then gagged him effectively with pieces torn from the rugs. In his elation he could have shouted for joy. Sir John was ill, but if all went well before another hour had gone he would at least be free.

By this time Peter had rid himself of one of his shackles and the other was nearly shorn through. The shackles, though thick and heavy, were soft and rusty, and were an easy problem to an armourer's assistant in possession of well-tempered swords and a dagger. In a few more minutes he was free to attack Edgar's bonds in their turn. Soon he also could stretch his limbs in freedom.

"Well done, Peter! Now strip that man of his cloak and put it on. Gird on sword and dagger, roll up the rugs, and let us be off. Sir Eustace is awaiting us, and unless we act at once our chance will be lost for ever."

"'Tis so, Master Edgar. We have indeed little time to lose. If Sir Eustace waxeth impatient, he may send other men to look for the first."

"Yes, 'tis unfortunate that it was to fetch us to Sir Eustace that Duprez came; but that cannot be helped, and at least 'tis night, and the greater part of the castle inmates will be asleep. In these cloaks we shall be able to pass along unmolested, if so be we can avoid Black Eustace whilst bringing out Sir John."

Taking up the torch, Edgar left the grim cell, closely followed by Peter, and shut the door behind him. They were free for the moment--free until Sir Eustace grew impatient at the tardy return of his messengers and set out to enquire the reason.

As rapidly as possible the two young men traversed the ghostly underground passages and ascended a narrow winding staircase of stone towards the room in which Duprez had said Sir John was now lodged. It was found without difficulty, for, to their horror, as they neared the spot they heard the selfsame cries that had so startled them before. It seemed that Duprez had spoken truly, and as he reached the door it was with a trembling hand that Edgar thrust the key into the lock.

The room was in darkness, but by the light of the torch held on high he saw Sir John. He was alone, but on a table near by were food and drink, which seemed to have been placed there not long since. The knight lay on a couch fully clothed, and was staring straight up at the ceiling, tossing his arms and shouting. At the noise of Edgar's entry and the light of the torch, he ceased for a moment, and, lifting his head, stared at the newcomers with eyes that seemed to search without the power of thought. Then his head fell back, and he resumed his wild shouting and tossing.

"Thou shalt see, false knight--think'st to bend to thy will a true knight of England? Infamous proposals! Worthy Gervaise de Maupas and grim Eustace of Ruthenes! The earl shall know--at last I tell thee--the time will come."

"Sir John, Sir John," cried Edgar breathlessly, "we are come to set thee free! Canst bear to be lifted, my lord?"

"Hark, I hear the tramp of men! From the woods and mountains--they come--black knight of Ruthenes. They come to avenge--dreadful deeds. Full reparation shall they exact----"

"Be silent, I beseech thee, Sir John!" cried Edgar in desperation, as he realized how fearfully difficult would be the task of conveying the sick knight from out the castle did he persist in his wild cries. Then he placed his arm round him soothingly and tried to still his restless tossings, talking quietly to him the while. "See, now, Sir John, we are going to take thee to the lady Gertrude. She shall tend thee. Keep thee still and all shall be well. Talk not so, dear Sir John, but rest thy head on my shoulder. Soon shall we be out of this fearsome castle and breathe freely the open air of heaven." Then in an urgent whisper he went on: "Come, Peter, there is not an instant to be lost. He is quieting. Wrap those rugs around him and take him gently by the legs. I will bear his head and shoulders."

For the moment the knight's cries sank into indistinct murmurs. He seemed to feel that friends at last were around him, and to be content to resign himself quietly into their hands.

"Whither shall I lead?" whispered Peter, as he opened the door and prepared to issue forth.

"Boldly down the stairs, which should be at the end of the passage. They lead to the main door into the courtyard. If any see us 'twill be Duprez and his man conveying the sick prisoner to another chamber. If any seek to know more we must silence them, and then on."

"Dare we ascend the walls with Sir John in such sore plight, Master Edgar?"

"Nay, 'tis to the drawbridge we must go. We cannot lower a sick man from the walls into the castle moat. We must surprise the sentinel at the gates, and lower away before the alarm is sounded. If only Sir John will keep as quiet as he is now, we may count upon taking the guard unawares. He will doubtless be facing outwards to the foe, and not inwards to the silent courtyard."

Leaving their torch behind them, the two young men crept slowly and silently along the passage with their burden. Halfway along they turned a corner and came full upon a door which stood half-open close by. Light streamed forth, and inside they could hear the regular thud of ironclad heels as a man paced slowly up and down.

Somehow the sound seemed to excite the sick knight they were bearing beyond endurance. Springing suddenly half out of their arms, he cried with tremendous energy:

"To-morrow--in the lists--shalt thou answer for thy crimes, Gervaise de Maupas. At the point of lance or sword--will I prove thy baseness. _Laissez aller_! On! on! Good steed--stout lance--do thy devoir. Hah! De Maupas, thou art down--yield thee----"

"What have we here?" came in a voice of thunder from the room, and the door was flung wide open by a hand rough and strong. In the doorway, standing out clearly against the light, appeared the short, thick figure of Eustace de Brin, clad from head to foot in dull black armour.

"Back, Peter, back!" whispered Edgar in a voice of desperation. "Carry Sir John, and return the way we came. I must defend the rear against this wolf of Ruthenes. Be rapid, on thy life and ours!"