A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's Insurrection

Some bolts were undrawn after some little delay, and a man appeared, having a sword in his hand, with two servitors behind him similarly armed.

"We are quiet people, my host," Edgar said. "Stand not on questioning. Suffice that there is a wounded man who is spent from loss of blood, and a young maid who has swooned from terror."

There was a tone of command in Edgar's voice, and the host, seeing that he had to do with persons of quality, murmured excuses on the ground that the neighbourhood was a rough one.

"You need hardly have told us that," Edgar said. "Our plight speaks for itself. Call your wife, I pray you, or female servants; they will know what to do to bring the young maid to herself. But tell her to let the girl know as soon as she opens her eyes that her father is alive, and is, I trust, not seriously wounded."

The landlord called, and a buxom woman came out from a room behind. Her husband hastily told her what was required.

"Carry her in here, sir, I pray you," the woman said. "I will speedily bring her round."

Edgar followed her into the room that she had left, which was a kitchen, and laid her down on a settle. Two maids who were standing there uttered exclamations of surprise and pity as the girl was carried in.

"Hold your tongues, wenches, and do not make a noise! Margaret, fetch me cold water, and do you, Elizabeth, help me to unlace the young lady's bodice," for the light in the kitchen enabled her to see at once that the girl was well dressed.

As soon as Edgar had laid her down, he hurried out of the kitchen, moving his arm uneasily as he did so, having discovered to his surprise that the weight of an insensible girl, though but some fourteen years old, was much more than he had dreamt of. In a parlour in front he found Albert and the landlord cutting off the doublet of the wounded man, so as to get at his shoulder, where a great patch of blood showed the location of the wound. He was some forty years old; his dress was quiet but of good quality, and Edgar judged him to be a London trader. His face was very white, but he was perfectly sensible. One of the servitors ran in with a cup of wine. The wounded man was able to lift it to his lips and to empty it at a draught.

"That is better!" he murmured, and then he did not speak again until the landlord, with considerable skill, bandaged up the shoulder.

"You have had a narrow escape," he said. "There is a sword-thrust just below your collar-bone. An inch or two lower and it would have gone hard with you; a little more to the left and it would have pierced your throat."

"It was a dagger wound," the man said. "I was knocked down by a blow from a sword which fell full on my head, but luckily I had iron hoops in my cap. One man knelt upon me, and endeavoured to strike me through the throat. I fought so hard that one of his comrades came to his assistance, and I thought that the end had come, when he sprung suddenly up. The other attempted more furiously than before to finish me, but striking almost blindly he twice missed me altogether, and the third time, by a sudden twist, I took a blow on my shoulder that would otherwise have pierced my throat. When he raised his dagger again something flashed. I saw his hand with the dagger he held in it drop off, and then the man himself fell on me, and I was like to be stifled with his weight, when my preserver hauled him off me."

"It were best not to talk further," the landlord said. "I have rooms fortunately vacant, and it were well that you retired at once."

"I will do that as soon as you have given me something to eat, landlord. Anything will do, but I am grievously hungry."

"I have a cold capon in the house," the landlord said.

"You will have to cater for three, for doubtless these gentlemen need supper as much as I do."

"I thank you, sir, but we are very late already, and our friends will have become alarmed; therefore, with your leave, we will, as soon as we hear that your daughter has recovered, go on our way."

"That I can tell you at once," the landlady said, entering. "Your daughter has recovered, sir, and would come to you, but I begged her to wait until my husband had done dressing your wound."

"Then we will say good-night, sir. We will call to-morrow morning to see how you are getting on," and without waiting for further words, they at once went out and continued their way at a brisk pace.

"Let me congratulate you, Albert," Edgar said, warmly. "In good faith no old soldier could have been cooler than you were. You spoke as quietly as if it were a lesson that you had to finish before starting for home, instead of a villainous cut-throat to put an end to. What did you to him?"

"I but laid his cheek open, Edgar, and that at once let out his blood and his courage, and he ran off bellowing like a bull. He knew naught of swordsmanship, as I felt directly our blades crossed. I knew that I had but to guard a sweeping blow or two, and that I should then find an opening; but you of course did much better, for you killed two of the villains."

"I did it hastily and with scarce a thought," Edgar said. "My eye caught the flash of the dagger, and I knew that if the man was to be saved at all there was not a moment to lose; I therefore parried the first blow he dealt me, and ran him through with my return. Then I had just time to chop the other villain's hand off as he was about to repeat his stroke. The ruffian you wounded caused the other to look round and pause for a moment. Had it been otherwise the traveller would have been a dead man before I had time to strike. I wonder who the wounded man is? He looked like a London trader. I wonder how he got into so sore a plight? But, doubtless, we shall hear in the morning."

The episode had taken only a few minutes, but it was nigh half-past nine before they reached home.

"What freak is this?" Sir Ralph said, angrily, when they entered. "Your mother has been anxious about you for the last two hours, and I myself was beginning to think that some ill must have befallen you. Why, what has happened to you, Albert, there is blood on your doublet?"

"'Tis not my own, sir," the lad said, quietly. "I regret that we are so late, but it was scarcely our fault. You told us that we could take boat at Westminster and row to Richmond. This we did, but the tide was against us coming back, and though the men rowed hard, the Abbey bell was striking eight as we landed at Westminster; therefore, knowing that the city gates would be shut, we had to make a tour round the walls."

"Then, as you say, Albert, you were not to blame in the matter. But what about the blood with which, as I see, Edgar is even more deeply stained than you are? Have you been in a brawl?"

"We have, sir; but here, I am sure, you will not blame us when you know the circumstances. As we crossed the road running from Aldersgate Street to the north we heard screams and the clashing of swords; deeming, and as it turned out rightly, that some traveller like ourselves was being attacked by cut-throats, we ran on, and presently came up to the spot where four ruffians were attacking a single man who had with him a young girl, whose screams had first called our attention, Edgar ran one through the body, smote off the hand of another who was endeavouring to stab the fallen traveller, and the other ran away."

"And what was your share of it?" his father asked, sternly.

"His share was an excellent one, Sir Ralph," Edgar said. "Two of the ruffians ran at us as we came up. One, who attacked me, was but a poor swordsman, and I ran him through at the first thrust. I then paused a moment to ask Albert if he required aid, and he answered, as quietly as he is now speaking, 'No, I think that I can manage him.' I had no time to say more, for I saw that a moment's delay would endanger the life of the traveller. Just as I reached him I heard a yell of pain, and knew that Albert had done his work. That howl saved the traveller's life. The man who was kneeling on him looked round for a moment before delivering his blow, which gave me time to smite him across the wrist. The blood you see was caused by dragging him off the traveller."

"By our lady!" Sir Ralph exclaimed, "but you have begun well, lads. That you would do so, Edgar, was a matter beyond doubt, but that Albert should stand up so well and so coolly in his first fight surprises me indeed. I had no doubt of your courage, lad. 'Tis rare indeed for one of good blood to lack courage, but had you been nervous and flurried the first time you were called upon to play the part of a man, it would have seemed to me but natural; now it gladdens me indeed to know that even in your first essay you should have thus shown that you possess nerve and coolness as well as courage. Anyone can rush into a fight and deal blows right and left, but it is far more rare to find one who, in his very first trial at arms, can keep his head clear, and be able to reply to a question, as Edgar says you did, in a calm and even voice. Now, tell me, who was this man to whose aid you arrived just at the nick of time?"

"He looked like a London trader, father, and was some forty years old; but it was hard to tell, for by the time we got him to the hostelry he was well-nigh spent and scarce able to crawl along, even with my help."

"He was wounded, then?"

"Stabbed with a dagger, father, just under the collar-bone. He must have made a stout resistance, for we heard the clashing of swords for some time as we ran, and when he was struck down he struggled so hard that in spite of the efforts of two of his assailants they failed to slay him. As soon as his wounds were bandaged we left him to the care of the landlord, and hurried off without thinking to ask his name, or of giving him ours, but we promised to return to see him to-morrow morning."

"And what became of the daughter?"

"She swooned, sir, when all was over, and Edgar carried her to the hostelry."

"'Tis good. You have both entered well upon the profession of arms, and have achieved an adventure worthy of knights. Now to bed. Your mother retired long ago, but I know that she will not sleep until she has heard of your safe return and of this adventure that you have gone through."

Highly gratified at the knight's commendation, the lads went up to their room.

"Putting aside the saving of life," Albert said, "I am right glad that we have gone through this adventure. 'Tis true that I had decided upon yielding to my father's wishes and taking up the career of arms, but I had grievous doubts as to whether I should not shame myself and him in my first encounter. I thought of that as I ran forward with you, but as soon as the ruffian advanced against me, I felt with joy that my hand was as steady as when I stood opposite you. It was a good cause in which I was to fight, and as soon as our swords crossed I felt how different it was to standing up against you, and that the ruffian knew little of sword-play. Twice I saw an opening for a straight thrust, but I had no desire to kill him, and waited until I could slash him across the face, and it needed but a few passes before I saw the opportunity."

When Dame Agatha came down in the morning she tenderly kissed Albert.

"My boy," she said, "I never said aught at the time, when it seemed that you were never like to grow strong enough to lay lance in rest or wield battle-axe, to show you that I regretted that you were not able to follow the profession of arms, as those of your race have ever done. I felt that it was hard enough for you, and therefore tried my best to reconcile you to the thought of becoming a priest; but now that all that has changed, and you have shown that you will be a brave and gallant knight, I can tell you that it gives me as great a joy as it does your father. The Church is a high and holy profession, but at present, as the preaching of Wickliffe has made manifest to all—although I do not hold with all he says, and deem that he carries it too far—I feel that until many of these abuses are rectified 'tis not a profession that I should, had I the choice, wish my son to enter. I am glad, Albert, too, that your sword should have been drawn for the first time on behalf of persons attacked by cut-throats, and in saving life. God bless you, my boy, and give you strength ever so to draw it in defence of the oppressed, and for the honour of your country."

Aline was exuberant in her pleasure. She was fondly attached to her brother, and that he would be lost to her as a priest had been a source of sorrow ever since she had been old enough to understand that it would be so.

As soon as the morning meal was over, the two lads started for the scene of the previous evening's fight. The road from Aldersgate, with cars rolling in with loads of flour and other provisions, and with many travellers and foot passengers of all sorts passing along, presented a very different appearance to that which it had worn on the evening before. People were going in and out of the hostelries for their morning draught of ale, and all looked bright and cheerful. The day was fine, and the air brisk. On entering, the landlord at once came up to them.

"Your friend is in the room where we dressed his wounds, sirs. He is doing well, and methinks will make a good cure. His daughter is with him. They have but lately risen, and are breaking their fast. He will be glad to see you, and was mightily vexed last night that we let you leave without asking your names."

"He was not in a condition for talking last night, what with the loss of blood and the smart of his wound and the suddenness of the affray. 'Tis not strange that he should not have thought of it; and indeed we ourselves did not ask his name, for we were pressed for time, and had to hurry away."

It was evident, indeed, as they entered, that things were going well with the wounded man, who was talking merrily to his daughter.

"Ah, sirs," he said, rising at once to his feet, "glad indeed am I that you have come, and that I can now thank you for the great service you rendered last night to myself and my daughter. First let me know to whom I am indebted for our lives?"

"This gentleman," Edgar said, "is Albert, son of Sir Ralph De Courcy. My name is Edgar Ormskirk. I pray you, speak not of gratitude. We are glad, indeed, to have been able to render service to you and to your daughter. We hope some day to become knights, and it is a real pleasure to us to have been able to draw a sword in earnest for the first time, in so good a cause. But, indeed, there is little occasion for glorification, seeing that the fellows were but rough cut-throats, more accustomed, I fancy, to the use of the dagger than of the sword."

"Do not belittle the action, Master Ormskirk," the other said, courteously. "It was a brave deed, for, if I may say so, you are but little more than boys, to pit yourselves against four rascals of this kind. There are few in your place would have ventured upon it. The landlord tells me that two dead bodies were found this morning, and they are those of well-known cut-throats and law-breakers, who would have long since been brought to justice, had it not been that there was no means of proving they were responsible for the many murders that have been committed during the last few months on peaceful travellers and others. A search has already been made of their haunts, and as it is found that two others who generally consorted with them are missing, and as much blood was found in the hovel they occupied, no doubt one of them was severely wounded."

"His cheek was laid open by my friend," Edgar said. "He could have slain him had he so chosen, but being as yet unused to strife and gentler hearted than I am, he contented himself by slashing his face."

"And did the other two fall to your sword, Mr. Ormskirk?"