Part 5

"Oho!--that is soon decided. Dost see yon hill, Edgar Wintour? I am tired of trotting along this dusty lane, and have made up my mind to a gallop across these fields to its summit. The view is doubtless charming. Come, Gertrude--let us see who will reach it first."

"Maiden, do no such thing," cried Edgar, quickly grasping the young girl's bridle as she turned her steed.

Quick as lightning Beatrice gave his horse a sharp cut with her whip, and the animal plunged so violently that Edgar involuntarily let go his hold.

With a ringing laugh of triumph, Beatrice urged on her steed, bounded across the low bushes which bordered the roadway, and made straight for the hill.

Stung to anger at being tricked, and still more so at sundry sly chuckles from one or two of the men-at-arms, Edgar gave instant chase and galloped furiously after. But though he did not spare his steed, the fugitive was not overtaken until she had reached the summit of the hill and had drawn rein to admire the prospect.

"'Tis fine, is it not, Edgar?" enquired the young girl, flushed and sparkling with the sharp gallop, as she pretended to admire the prospect while glancing furtively at the young esquire.

"I will not have it, Beatrice," cried Edgar, as he grasped her bridle with a grip that he did not mean to be shaken off. "What catastrophe may I not have to report to Sir John if thou goest on so wilfully?"

"Release my bridle," commanded Beatrice indignantly. "Thou wilt make me wish that Aymery or Roland were Sir John's esquire instead of thee, Edgar Wintour."

"'Twould be strange if thou didst not do so a'ready," replied Edgar calmly. "I have no claims to their flattering tongues or courtly ways. But if ever a time of stress cometh mayhap thou wilt then be the less discontented."

"Art going to lead me back to our party with hand on my bridle?" cried Beatrice haughtily, albeit with a hint of pleading in her voice.

"Nay, I will not so humiliate thee. But remember, Beatrice, ours is an expedition of war, and not a pleasure excursion. Obedience must needs be given."

"Surely thou art taking thy first command over-seriously," replied Beatrice scoffingly. "What need is there to exact obedience from Gertrude and me? We are not men-at-arms."

"This reason, Beatrice. At our last stop I was informed that the district was infested with robbers and brigands, who had become much emboldened since interest had been so centred in the war. What then if ye had become lost and had fallen into their hands?"

"I would that the robbers would capture thee, Edgar Wintour," cried Beatrice quickly, as she galloped back to Gertrude's side.

Edgar laughed, though somewhat ruefully, and followed her example.

The rest of the journey passed without incident. Oftentimes, however, Edgar found his energies taxed to the utmost to keep the spirits of his young charges within reasonable bounds. Sometimes they scoffed at him and sometimes defied him, but with the aid of a half hint that if the worst came to the worst they would have to ride behind a man-at-arms, he managed to keep them in fair order. It was with a sigh of relief, so far as they were concerned, however, that he rode into Dover town.

Sir John had arrived and was awaiting their coming at the rendezvous agreed upon. After the first greetings were over, and the ladies were as comfortably disposed of as the crowded state of the inns would allow, he led Edgar aside.

"How went the journey hither? Are the ladies well and the men-at-arms of good hap? I hope thou didst maintain a firm discipline, Edgar."

"The ladies are well and the journey passed without mishap. I had no trouble with the men, though I fear the ladies were inclined to be somewhat unruly. I hope thou art well also, Sir John?"

"Well enough, lad. We embark to-morrow, and all told the Earl of Derby will muster a force of three thousand men. We shall land at Bayonne, and probably march on to Bordeaux. That is as much as it behoves me to tell thee of the expedition at present. There is, however, one other thing I must acquaint thee of at once, as it is closely concerned, I do greatly fear, with mine own personal safety. During this expedition, it is like enough that my life will be in constant jeopardy, not from the enemy but from one amongst my own side. The truth is, I have an enemy, and I look to thee, lad, to aid me to frustrate his evil designs."

"I will indeed do all I can, Sir John. But who is this dastard who in time of war would aim at the life of one of his own countrymen? Tell me his name, I pray thee, so that I may know him and thus be able to guard thee the more certainly."

"'Tis Sir Gervaise de Maupas. He is unknown to thee at present, but before we are through with this expedition thou art likely to know him only too well. He is a man of evil character, unless my judgment and that of some others are at fault, though he well knoweth how to ingratiate himself into the good opinion of those in authority. He hath already gained the ear of the earl, and that alone bodeth ill for me. The cause of our enmity dateth back many years, to the time when his father was dispossessed of his estates for treason and they were bestowed upon my father. He hath been trained from childhood to consider me and mine as his most bitter enemies, and he seemeth to have learned his lesson well. More than that, we have had high words on two occasions, and once we have met in single combat. He was worsted, and since then he hath lost no opportunity of revenging himself most fully.

"I have been stabbed in the back on English soil by a miscreant whose object was certainly not robbery. I was turning as he struck or I should not be here now. The man escaped, but I caught a fleeting glimpse of him, and two months later I saw talking with Sir Gervaise a man who resembled him most uncomfortably. Until now, fortunately for me, I have never been in the same quarter of the field as Sir Gervaise, but now that we are thrown together it behoves us to keep watch and ward--Hist! This is he, Edgar."

Startled by the sudden change of tone, Edgar glanced quickly in the direction in which Sir John was looking and saw a tall and somewhat gaunt knight sauntering easily towards them. He was dressed in silks in the height of fashion and made a brave show, though the expression of his strongly marked features seemed to Edgar to consort but ill with his dainty attire. As he came closer, his evil expression intensified and became so ugly and insolent a scowl that Edgar saw Sir John's hand steal involuntarily to his sword hilt. Noticing the action, Sir Gervaise's face relaxed into a smile hardly less forbidding than his frown, as he snarled:

"Never fear, thou shalt soon have opportunity an thou dost desire it."

"I do desire it, De Maupas. Thine insolence alone merits chastisement, but besides and above all that there is a matter between us that can never be wiped away until thou hast bit the dust."

"Thou art right, Sir John. The deeds of thy grasping forbears stand between us, and one of us, I swear, shall be humiliated before many months are past."

"I speak of far viler things than those, things too of more recent date--things that, could I but prove them, would send thee hotfoot to a felon's cell."

Sir Gervaise ground his teeth as he glanced uneasily from Sir John to his esquire.

"Darest thou make such shameful allegations against me openly? Darest thou speak out boldly to the earl, or must thou, like a baseborn coward, hint darkly and secretly against mine honour?"

"Thou well knowest I can prove nothing, Sir Gervaise, until I prove it on thy body. Wilt meet me in single combat _a outrance_?"

"I will. And I swear to punish thee. The earl purposes a tourney when he doth enter Bordeaux. Then thy chance will come unless thou hast thought better of it. Ha! Ha! Perchance when the time cometh, Sir John Chartris may not be so eager to meet Sir Gervaise de Maupas face to face and lance to lance in a fight to the death?"

"Thou wilt see. At Bordeaux I will challenge thee publicly, and thou wilt be compelled to answer for thy ill deeds with lance, sword, and dagger."

With a smile which seemed to Edgar one of malicious triumph, Sir Gervaise turned on his heel and sauntered slowly away. Sir John looked after him for a minute with a frowning face which showed plainly how deeply his anger had been stirred. Then he turned to Edgar and said:

"I would not miss meeting Sir Gervaise for all I possess, Edgar. What I fear most, however, is that he may find some pretext for avoiding a conflict, so do thou make it public that at the earl's tourney Sir John Chartris will issue a challenge to Sir Gervaise de Maupas to a combat _a outrance_. Thus only, when all are agog with expectation, can we be sure that he will not disappoint us."

"I will see to it, Sir John. I will make the encounter so public that it will be hard indeed for De Maupas to find a way out with honour."

The next day the whole of the expeditionary force embarked, and sail was set for the south of France. Edgar was kept very busy, for Sir John, who was often in attendance on the Earl of Derby, left in his hands all the arrangements for the accommodation of the Wolsingham ladies and their maids on shore and afloat, the victualling of the Wolsingham men-at-arms and their horses during the voyage, and the responsibility of seeing to the general comfort and wellbeing of the whole of the party.

He carried out his many duties, however, with a thoroughness that soon earned him the respect and affection of all concerned, except perhaps of the ladies, who may have missed the gallantries of Aymery and Roland and have found Edgar's directness not altogether to their liking. Certainly the lady Beatrice more than once rallied him severely upon a devotion to duty that scarce, she said, permitted him to smile at a merry thrust.

But Edgar lightly passed the matter off, for he was indeed far too absorbed in the coming campaign to care to take the place of either Aymery or Roland. The mention of a tourney, too, had given him much food for thought. It seemed possible that some place might be found for esquires in the proceedings, and might not he as well as his master figure in the conflicts? Full of the idea, and dreading lest he might be getting somewhat out of practice with the sword--for since he had been esquire to Sir John he had been so busy that he had had fewer opportunities for practising than formerly--Edgar set Peter to make enquiries and to find out if any men-at-arms or esquires of especial note for skill with weapons were accompanying the expedition.

After a voyage swift and pleasant, though quite devoid of incident, the fleet arrived at Bayonne, where the earl's force landed and marched along the coast to Bordeaux. Here the army encamped, and, having joined forces with the available troops of the province, mustered quite a goodly array. To Sir John's stern delight, it was not long before the Earl of Derby proposed a tournament, with the object of interesting the townspeople in the campaign and of strengthening the warlike spirit of his men in readiness for active operations. His proposals were received with general acclamation, and, a date being fixed, the arrangements proceeded with the greatest speed and enthusiasm.

From the first day of his arrival at the camp Edgar had put into operation his scheme for obtaining useful practice, and several old campaigners among both the English and Gascon forces had been induced by offers of sundry good cheer to venture a bout with the eager esquire. Most of the men he found were hardly up to their reputations, but from some he was able to glean useful knowledge of yet more varied modes of attack and defence. At the same time the practices served excellently to keep him in perfect trim and fitness.

The reward for this diligence came when it was presently announced that the tourney would open with a contest of esquires before the more serious work of the day was entered upon.

The contest of honour between Sir John Chartris and Sir Gervaise de Maupas was fixed for the afternoon, immediately after the contest between knights on foot. By general consent this encounter was regarded as the most important and interesting of the whole tourney, partly because of the well-established reputations of the two knights, but more especially because the bad blood existing between them made it certain that the encounter would be fought out to the bitter end.

Some three days before the date fixed for the tourney, Peter drew Edgar aside.

"I fear there is something afoot, Master Edgar, that bodeth ill for someone."

"Oh, and what is that, Peter?"

"There have been two men of hangdog looks haunting this end of the camp for several days. As thou know'st, I have lived in the midst of cutthroats and ruffians and know something of their ways, and methinks these men are seeking an opportunity to plunder."

"But to plunder whom?"

"Sir John, I fear. Know'st thou if he hath brought much money or valuables with him?"

"I have not heard of it, and if _I_ know not I see not how others can have learned it."

"Then I must be mistaken. It is doubtless some other knight they wish to rob, for that they are after something of the sort I am wellnigh certain."

Suddenly Edgar recollected what Sir John had told him of the attempt upon his life which had, he thought, been planned by Sir Gervaise. It seemed improbable that De Maupas would again make such an attempt, especially as he would so soon have ample opportunity for revenge in the encounter in the lists. Still, it would be well that no stone should be left unturned that might affect his master's safety.

"After all, Peter, keep a close watch upon these men. Though their evil designs may not be directed against us, I would still frustrate them an we can. Keep an eye upon them without being thyself seen, and find out whether they have any friends within the camp."

"I will, sir;" and Peter limped off with the air of one setting about a task especially congenial to him.

Nothing, however, occurred in any way suspicious until the very eve of the tournament. By that time everything in connection with the arrangements had been settled, and the esquires of the English army had been rendered wild with excitement at the news that the proceedings would be opened by a melee between seven esquires chosen from amongst their number and a like number selected from among their Gascon allies.

Originally this spectacular encounter had been intended for knights, but, fearing that the victory of either side might lead to jealousy and hinder the harmonious working of the two branches of his army, the Earl of Derby prohibited the engagement in the form proposed, and substituted for it a general melee in which the members of the two competing bodies were drawn promiscuously from amongst the knights of both nations.

The projectors of the original scheme, however, unwilling to abandon their proposal altogether, urged that the objections brought against it hardly applied to a contest amongst esquires. To this the earl assented, and it was finally arranged that in the esquires' melee the two sides should be drawn from amongst the English and Gascon troops respectively. The news was received with acclamation, and it soon became abundantly evident that, although the contest was one for esquires only, its unusual character had invested it with much more than the usual interest.

On the English side some thirty of the better-known esquires were quickly selected, and invited to compete among themselves for the honour of representing their nation in the coming contest. Edgar was one of those invited to compete, and, doing well in all his encounters, eventually found himself one of the seven chosen representatives of the squirehood of the English army.

Scarcely had he had time to receive the congratulations of his friends upon his good fortune, and to indulge in pleasant dreams of the stirring encounters and ultimate victory that he confidently believed awaited his side, before an event happened that drove the whole thing from his mind almost as completely as though it had never been even mooted.

It has already been observed that it was not until the very eve of the tournament that Edgar had any suspicions that aught was in any way amiss with Sir John or his affairs. He was in his tent at the time, about to retire for the night somewhat earlier than usual, in anticipation of the trying ordeal of the morrow, when someone tapped at the canvas.

"Enter," responded Edgar.

Peter entered, and from his heaving chest and anxious face Edgar saw at once that something had happened.

"What is it, Peter?" he cried quickly.

"The ladies Gertrude and Beatrice have sent me hither to enquire whether aught hath been seen of Sir John. He hath not yet returned, though he was expected long since. As thou know'st, he always sups with them at their inn in the town before he returns to the camp for the night."

"I know. So he hath not yet returned? He went for his usual ride about the countryside this afternoon, and, not seeing him more, I thought he must be in the town with the ladies. What can have occurred to keep him?"

"Dost think those evilly-disposed men have had aught to do with it, Master Edgar?"

The same thought had occurred to Edgar, but, dreading it, he had tried to put it away from him. It came back with the force of a blow when he found that the same idea had struck Peter.

"It may be so, Peter," he replied reluctantly. "I hope it may only be that he hath been detained--perchance because his horse hath cast a shoe--but I cannot help a feeling of dread lest it be that those men have had something to do with it. Didst ever find out aught concerning them?"

"Nothing, save that one of them spoke one day to Sir Gervaise de Maupas; but as he flew into a violent rage at the man accosting him, I did not think there could be any connection between them."

"Ah!" groaned Edgar. "Then I fear the worst. I have not told thee, Peter--and heavy is my responsibility for it--that emissaries of Sir Gervaise did once attempt Sir John's life. Sir John told me in order that I might the better watch over his safety, and right badly have I done it!"

"But scarce could we have prevented this, Master Edgar. None would have thought of watching over Sir John while he was in the saddle and fully armed."

"Nay, but I might have warned him that assassins were on the lurk. But this is no time for self-reproachings. I must do all I can to repair the mischief done. Bring me a spare horse, Peter, and tell Matthew to be in the saddle and ready waiting for me outside the north gate of the town in a quarter of an hour. Late as it is, we must scour the countryside. Sir John may be lying wounded in some lonely wood, or be yet defending himself against cowardly adversaries. Quickly, Peter, for thy master's life!"

Peter limped away at the top of his speed, and Edgar quickly threw off his outer clothes and put on a light shirt of mail made of tiny links of interlaced steel, similar to that which Sir John, as a precaution against his enemy, usually wore when not in armour. The shirt of mail fitted closely, and when his doublet was donned once more no one would have guessed that so thorough a protection lay hidden beneath its folds.

Quick as he was, the lad was back with his horse as soon as he was ready, and Edgar instantly mounted and rode off into the town of Bordeaux, first bidding Peter set to work to find, if possible, some trace of the suspected men.

On arriving at the inn where the ladies Gertrude and Beatrice were staying, Edgar found them still up, anxiously awaiting news.

"He hath not yet returned, then?" he cried, as he saw their anxious faces.

"No. Surely someone hath seen him?" cried Gertrude in alarm.

"No one. But do not distress thyself so soon. I am going to sally out with Matthew to scour the countryside, and if Sir John is anywhere near, surely we shall come upon him. Doubtless he hath merely met with some trifling accident that keepeth him back for a few hours."

"Yes, Gertrude," put in Beatrice, laying her hand on her friend's arm, "thy father is too hardy and experienced a warrior and horseman easily to come to harm. I will warrant he will be back ere day dawns. Nevertheless," she went on, turning to Edgar, "thou hadst better make search as thou hast purposed, Master Wintour, unless, indeed, thou art fearful of spoiling thy chances in the melee to-morrow by passing the night thus."

"I care not a fig for the melee, so be it I can see Sir John back safe and sound," cried Edgar hastily, considerably nettled at the smile which accompanied the last remark, and, saluting, he turned on his heel and strode from the room. Here he paused for a moment, and, retracing his steps, told the ladies it would be useless for them to wait up longer, as the gates of the city would shortly close, and no one would be able to pass either in or out before daybreak.

For some hours the night was moonlit, and Edgar and Matthew, dividing the countryside between them, scoured it for miles and miles around. Full of anxiety, for Edgar had communicated his fears to the man-at-arms, they rode hard and fast, with little regard for their own necks or the limits of the horses they bestrode, and by the time the sky clouded over so that further real progress was impossible, they had become convinced that Sir John was nowhere in the vicinity. Returning to the camp, Edgar called Peter to him.

"Well, Peter, didst find out aught?"

"Nay, sir. None hath seen the two men of late, so perchance they know naught of this matter, after all."

"That, at least, is good news, and it may well turn out that nothing serious hath happened to Sir John. Now, Peter, I am going to lie down for an hour or two. Rouse me at daybreak, for I must acquaint the ladies Gertrude and Beatrice of the poor success of my search as soon as the city gates are open."

Peter nodded and retired, and Edgar flung himself down just as he was, and almost instantly fell into a deep slumber.

It was long after sunrise when he awoke, and furious with Peter for letting him sleep so long, he hurried to the lad's tent.

"Why did ye not call me, Peter?" he cried angrily.

"All is well, Master Edgar. I have been into the town, and have told the ladies that there is no news, and that thou wert worn out with searching, and sleeping heavily. I have hopes that thou wilt make thy name in the melee to-day; but what chance would there be of thy doing thyself justice after wearing thyself out riding all night long?"

Too angry to bandy words with the lad, and realizing, too, that it was out of regard for him that he had disobeyed his orders, Edgar strode back to his tent, hastily washed himself, and then rode into the town. He had no good news to tell, and the ladies could not help but feel that something serious must be keeping Sir John, or he would certainly have either appeared in person or have sent someone to tell them of his detention elsewhere. It was for them a time of anxiety and perplexity, and Edgar could do little save suggest all sorts of accidents that might have kept the knight back for a few hours.

One thing besides his master's life, however, Edgar felt he had to consider, and that was his honour. With the contest of the afternoon Sir John's honour was now closely bound up. The utmost publicity had been given to the affair, and did he not appear and answer to the challenge of Sir Gervaise de Maupas, he would be regarded on all sides as a dishonoured knight. Edgar felt this most keenly, and resolved that at all costs he would keep the secret of Sir John's disappearance from becoming known, so that if he returned at the last moment, as he might well do, idle tongues would have had no cause to wag against him.