moat. What may we do now, Roger,
"Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under the
cover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to your
father's castle," replied Norman of Torn.
Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watch
upon the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door and
stepped forth into the fresh night air.
The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, had
there ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and it
was with difficulty that the man forced his way through the entangling
creepers and tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell before
they had taken a score of steps.
"I fear I am not strong enough," she said finally. "The way is much more
difficult than I had thought."
So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled on
through the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine. It
required the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance to
the roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and her
hair brushed his cheek. Once when she lifted her head to speak to him,
he bent toward her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushed
hers. He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint sigh
breathed from her lips.
They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mist
was before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smothered
those warm lips with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers,
closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clear
cut and distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw of
Torn swinging by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside it
knelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels. Her face
was averted and her arms were outstretched toward the dangling form that
swung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was racked with
choking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to her
feet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw her
features for an instant then--the woman who openly and alone mourned the
dead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort.
Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joan
de Tany to the ground. In that
Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King in this venture so dear to his heart! A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and their retainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces.Page 7
"Is it not enough that you leech me of good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantles of villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needs burden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue? "Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gate to perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I had delivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth and cobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the dead Romans who builded London twelve hundred years ago.Page 11
There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and Eleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.Page 18
Dost understand?" "But I have no toothache.Page 24
he dragged the boy with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen the grip upon mane and withers.Page 27
"The lad appears about fifteen," said Paul of Merely, lowering his voice, "and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives.Page 38
The time will come and soon now, I hope, when you shall uncover your countenance to all England.Page 57
In vain did Mary de Stutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of.Page 62
Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy chairs which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and she shuddered.Page 63
"I will give thee until tomorrow to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or take another position in his household which will bar thee for all time from the society of thy kind.Page 75
" He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one knee raised them to his lips.Page 87
"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill," she replied warmly.Page 89
"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow.Page 104
And in that castle also was a despised and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neck the hempen noose has been yawning these many years.Page 108
All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waited composedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany.Page 111
Not since Arthur of Silures kept his round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so true a knight as Norman of Torn.Page 115
Tales of adventure, love, war and death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told, each, his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fighting enough by day to keep them good humored, the winter passed, and spring came with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with soft zephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies.Page 120
" Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the door.Page 129
Furiously he fought; in the extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner with frenzied agony.Page 135
Bertrade de Montfort.