"Jump!" he said suddenly, and I did. I leaped the fence, and sensing it was some kind of a test, I jumped it again.
Then I went through the fence and gathered wood and returned to the fire. Kory talked to the old man of other days and times. Finally, he said: "Why do you wish to fight? Is it that you wish to kill someone?"
"No. But I saw my father die, and he was a fine swordsman. I would be better, and when they come to kill me, I would fight the best of all. Even if they kill me, I would wish to leave my mark upon them. There was one man among my father"s killers who was best of all. I would be better."
After pausing I said, "A man"s destiny is a man"s destiny. I would not look for him, but I think he looks for me. And when he finds me I would not wish him disappointed in the way I hold a blade."
"Hah!" Kory ate, and then looked at me again. "Your father, then ... he taught you something?"
"Much. But he was a man of peace. He taught me to fight as a gentleman fights, and so would I, against gentlemen, but there will be others."
"Aye! There are always the others," said the old man.
"Yes." Kory looked at the old man. "I will teach him." Again he turned to me. "It will not be easy. It will be work until your muscles cry out in pain, and work again until the pain is all gone from them. It cannot be done in a month, or even a year, but I will teach you all I know."
"And that is more than any other man knows," the old man said. "Good. You will find him a good lad."
"Yes," Kory said quietly, "I know him. He will walk a b.l.o.o.d.y trail in the years before him, but the blood that is spilled needs spilling. Today we eat, tonight we sleep, and tomorrow ... we work!"
How swiftly pa.s.sed the months! How soon came the end of the year! Up and down the lanes of England we traveled, and over the border and into Scotland. We camped beside Hadrian"s Wall and later by the sh.o.r.es of Loch Lomond. We went down into Yorkshire and we camped in lonely places. We sharpened knives, scissors, and all manner of blades, we did tinsmithing. We shod horses and we peddled cloth, thread, and needles. And ever and always, we fenced.
By dawn light and campfire, in clearings in the forest or on the lonely moors, in deserted bars and wherever we might find a place, we fenced. Always we sought seclusion, for gypsies or vagabonds who had skill with weapons were ill-liked. Also, Kory must keep himself from sight. It would be a hanging for him, if he were caught.
I was in the hands of a master. My father had been skilled, but Kory was a marvel, no less. At night we read by the campfire, or talked of what we had earlier read, or of our experiences during the day. Sometimes Kory would join in. Usually he simply listened, smiling infrequently.
The old man was called Thomas Bransbee. What his true name was, I do not know, yet as we traveled, I picked up a few things about him. He had gone to the best of schools, had held some official position at one time, and his family had suffered because of it. I guessed that he had been involved, or was suspected of being involved, with one of the numerous factions that had supported the claimants to the throne after the death of Henry VIII.
Sometimes we parted from Kory for the day, even for several days, but then he would appear again. As my skill sharpened, so did his, for the constant fencing was renewing his old talents.
"It is a wrong name we go by," he said one day. "They call us gypsies because they believed we came from Egypt. It is not so. We were a wandering tribe from India who left there long, long ago. Our words resemble those of the Hindu: some of our songs are the same, and customs."
He was a wise man and had traveled much. During the periods when we stopped for rest or when I sometimes rode with him on his cart, or walked beside him to save the horses, he talked of his wanderings all over Europe and Asia. He had known many men of importance, serving them in various capacities, or simply traveling with them. His own tribe of gypsies had been largely destroyed by war and plague, yet he was known to other bands, and welcome everywhere.
We collected herbs at the roadside. There were many, often thought of as weeds by the unknowing. It was possible to bundle these into small bales or collect the seeds and sell them at various shops in the villages or to doctors who made their own medicines from them.
I was gaining education in much else, too, for Kory told me of the tricks and artifices used by thieves and pickpockets, swindlers and cardsharps. It was an education in the ways of the streets. Little did I know then how much I was soon to need it.
Wanderers along the highroads were always in danger from local thugs who felt secure in attacking or robbing those of us who were considered vagabonds ourselves, having no protection from the law ... when there was any.
Wayfarers usually banded together, that they might protect one another. At the time when trouble came to us, there were three carts traveling together-Bransbee, Kory, and two gypsy brothers who were pugilists, often boxing at the county fairs.
They were good boxers both, and better than average at wrestling as well. Frequently they arranged a match or two with strong boys from the country towns, sometimes whining, sometimes losing, whichever might be the most profitable at the time-or sometimes whichever might be the wiser.
The old man was alone at the time, for I"d been walking with Kory and his cart. But we were only a short distance behind, and the place for our meeting was in a hollow just ahead of us.
Bransbee had turned the corner and we heard a clatter of hooves and then a shouting and we heard Bransbee cry out in protest.
While walking, I carried always a stout stick. Grasping it now, I ran on ahead. As I turned the bend of the lane I saw that a half-dozen young men and boys, all upon horses, had surrounded the cart and were throwing its contents into the road.
Two of the boys had pinioned the old man"s arms and were laughing at him. Of the others some remained in the saddle, and the rest had dropped down and were looting the cart.
My first glance told me these were no ordinary ruffians, for all were well clad and well mounted. I rushed upon them. One of them heard me coming and turned sharply, raising a stick he carried. Stick fighting was something I had known from childhood in Ireland, and I thrust hard with the end of mine, bending to avoid a counterblow. The end of my stick took him in the wind and he doubled with a grunt. I knocked his stick from his hand and fetched him a clout across the shins that set him yelling.
Two of the others turned on me, but by that time Kory was coming at a run. And suddenly the two pugilists burst from the wood where their cart had been drawn up, out of sight.
At once we were in a fierce set-to with fists, sticks, and clubs, and I found myself facing a brawny youth, a wide-faced young man with thick, black, curly hair and two hamlike fists. He had turned suddenly on me and caught me off guard, and his first blow sent my stick flying. He would have dealt me another blow then but I dove under his club and tackled him about the knees. It was like hitting a wall, for his thighs were powerfully muscled, his calves as well, and his feet were solidly placed. He grasped me in his two huge hands, pulled me away, and swung a blow at my face.
Jerking back, I tried to break free and did succeed in avoiding the blow, but never had I felt a grasp so filled with sheer power. I was off my feet but I kicked out, catching him on the kneecap. He winced, his grip relaxed, and I broke free.
He lunged at me but suddenly Kory was there, the handle of an axe in his hands. "Do it," he said, "and I will smash your skull."
Powerful as he was, the young man was no fool. He stepped back and looked at Kory. "Oh yes," he said, "I shall stop for now, but we"ll have the lot of you up to prison for this."
"You attacked us!" I protested. He smiled smugly. "That won"t be so when I tell it," he said, "and my father is a power here. I will see all of you hang. There"s a highwayman about here, and I will swear," he pointed a thick finger at Kory, "that you are he, and that the rest are your confederates.
"I shall see you hang," he said grimly, "and when you do, I shall smile."
Two of the others were getting to their feet. One lad, scarcely older than I, was still on his horse.
"If you have attacked us in this manner," Bransbee said, "you will have abused others. It is in your nature. We will find those others. We will get our own witnesses."
The young man smiled. He was perhaps eighteen in years, four years older than I now was. "None will speak against me," he replied cheerfully. "All about are my friends-or they"ll live in fear of what may follow. Oh, I shall see you hang, all right! I shall have the witnesses, and my family owns all about here. You will see."
"What a beast you are!" I said coolly. "You are a bully, and no doubt a coward as well."
He looked at me tauntingly. "A bully? Oh, yes! I like being a bully to all you riffraff, you vagabonds. But a coward? That I do not know, and I never shall, for I am larger, stronger, and a better swordsman than any about. I can defeat them all. As for you, had they not fallen around me, I should have beaten you blind.
"That was what I intended, you know, to blind you. I shall do so yet, and these others also, if they live."
He turned, gathered up the fallen reins of his horse, and swung to its saddle. "Come!" he said to the others. "I must arrange for these to be taken."
Abruptly he rode off and the others followed-all but the lad who had not dismounted. He lingered a bit.
"I am sorry," he said. "I am just lately come home and did not know what he has become. Be off with you, for he will do as he says. His father is a lord here, and will hear no evil of him. He is a tremendous fighter and a bad one, evil in all ways. He can do everything he says."
He looked at me. "You," he said, "he will hate. I know. Get away, if you can."
He rode off and over the rise.
Kory moved swiftly. He turned to Porter Bill, the nearest of the two pugilists. "Get your cart and follow me! There is a lane yonder!"
We fled. Yet our carts could move but slowly, and I wondered what it was Kory had in mind: yet there was some plan, for he was a gypsy as were Porter Bob and Porter Bill, the twin fighters.
We ran our donkeys and ponies until, a short distance along, he turned sharply into a lane past a hayc.o.c.k. Behind him he replaced the bars of a gate and brushed out the tracks of our turning.
We ran our animals a mile, then another half until we came upon some old hayc.o.c.ks and he turned from the hidden lane down which we had traveled. In the field he pulled aside some hay. There was an opening there, for the hayc.o.c.ks were old and were like hives. There was room under them for three carts, four if need be. Swiftly, we came out, rearranged the hay, and mounted upon the animals. We were one shy, and I shook my head at them.
"Go!" I said. "I shall meet you later. I can run and hide afoot: I have done it most of my life, it seems. Do you try to escape."
They hesitated, then Kory tossed me one of the two sticks he carried. "See? It is a sword-cane. Use it if you need."
And they were gone.
They were gone, and I was alone. Alone once more.
Quickly, I looked about. There was little time. Nor did I need any warning when it came to that big youth. I had seen the look in his eye. He was one who thrived on cruelty.
Turning swiftly, I went down the hill.
10.
There was no time to think, no time to plan; distance was what I needed. I guessed that my mounted friends would head south and try to lose themselves among the lanes. They would scatter out, too, taking their loss as they would, or sending gypsy friends back for their hidden carts.
I ran down the slope to a stream, then along it under the trees to a lane. I knew not how much estate was claimed by the father of the large young man, nor which direction would find me safest, but I fled.
My condition was good. Well over a year of traveling along the lanes and byroads, walking much of the time, always active, fencing, boxing, wrestling, had left me in fine shape.
It angered me to be treated so shamefully by the leader of those rascals. There were many of their kind about, young ruffians albeit of good family, taking advantage of their position to raid and bully and steal. No man was safe from them, and no girl, either. They were thoroughly vicious.
We had lately crossed a wild and broken moor not too far from the sea. It was there that I directed my steps. Once, when I had begun to climb, I looked back.
Parties of riders could be seen sweeping along the lanes. I kept from sight and plodded on. Soon they would come this way, and I must find a place to hide. Wandering the lanes as we did, we usually paid small mind to where we were, and I only knew that somewhere off to the west lay the sea. We were in the Lake Country or near it, and as once I had fled to the sea and escaped, it was in my mind to do so again. Soon I reached the cover of an oak wood and then a deep ravine where I climbed carefully over some mossy rocks, using my cane to good effect. Clambering out of the ravine, I crossed over a gra.s.sy place and entered a clump of yew that covered a knoll. There, under shelter of the woods, I paused to consider my course.
Undoubtedly when the lads who attacked us had set the countryside upon us, they had told some tale of violence or theft. Many parties of hors.e.m.e.n and others would be scouring the country in search of us, and were we found it would go hard. For no explanation would suffice against the accusation of one of their own.
The place I had now reached was on a steep mountainside and the yew was thick. No horseman would ride down this slope, and I doubted that any of the ruffians who attacked us would. Such folk were not apt to go where the traveling was hard. So it might be best to remain where I was for the time and not chance the moors or gra.s.sland above until darkness fell. What I feared most was dogs. If they brought dogs to search for us, we would be found. At least, I would be.
It was late afternoon and if the next hour or two were pa.s.sed in safety, I might yet go free.
Below me the land lay wide under the mouth of the ravine. Here and there were clumps of yew, then patches of oak, and below a checkerboard of fields and pastures. A lovely, peaceful land, but not for me. I was again in flight ... Would there never be a place to rest? Never a place where I could stop and serve? Where I could do something of worth without forever living in fear?
It came to me then that I must be away from England if I wished to be free. And yet I had grown to love this land and many of its people.
Why must London forever hold out a beckoning finger? What awaited me there, if anything? Had not many warned me against the hazards of that city?
Slowly the shadows gathered behind me while the valley below still lay bathed in sunlight. Here and there I could see distant troops of hors.e.m.e.n wending their homeward way. Had they found my friends?
The hayc.o.c.ks now ... how had Kory known of them? Were there many such, scattered about in unused fields or ancient pastures, places of which the gypsies knew, and to which they could resort in time of need? No doubt, I decided, there were.
At last I arose. If I were to choose my way, I must be going now, before all was darkness. Slowly, I walked through the yew and emerged upon the hillside. My muscles were stiff from sitting on the damp earth and I was tired from the running and climbing, but I knew I must get on.
Over the rim of the. hill I mounted, and out into the angry red of a vanished sun. Streaks of scarlet and gold-laced clouds lay in the west and the heather moor lay about me. I stood alone upon it as if in a world newly born from the primeval darkness, or sinking again into that from which it came. And then they were coming at me. There were four of them, walking their horses toward me, led by the same big young man who had led them below. "See?" he was saying. "Did I not know where to come? Did I not tell you?"
The others divided, and slowly they surrounded me. My sword-cane was in my hand. They knew it only as a stick, so let them learn if they would. At least one of them would die before I was killed.
No use for me to run. On their fleet horses, on this almost level mountain top, I would be an easy prey. Could I kill all four?
"We have him now, and we shall have some sport of him."
"Why not take him below?" one asked, "and let the law have him."
"Don"t be a child!" the big one scoffed. "We will have him. The law can have what we leave of him."
The youngest might have been no older than my fourteen years, but the others were two to four years older. At least two of them were larger than I, and at least one was stronger. All were armed with sticks, at least two had daggers, and the large one a sword. If I escaped the circle and ducked back over the edge where they were not likely to try and bring the horses, I might evade them for a time or until those came who would take me to prison. For vagabonds had no rights that anyone recognized.
To allow them to have their way and torture me was unthinkable, and during the more than two years I had been dodging, evading, and hiding from the law, my mind had grown quick with stratagems.
Their method was obvious. They would move in upon me, ringing me with their horses and themselves, and at any move I should make to escape, a horse would be put before me. I was trapped, and they knew it. Deliberately, I put my sword-cane in my belt and spread my arms as if surrendering.
The big one laughed. "See? He is a coward as well! He will not fight! Well, we will see."
He thrust at me with his stick and I dodged. He . was too strong, much too strong. The others began to do likewise, and there was one who was astride a splendid sorrel gelding, a handsome horse, long-bodied and long-legged.
He thrust at me, almost got me, then thrust again. A stick caught my ribs and ripped my shirt, tearing a thin scratch along my ribs. I felt the sting of it, but dodged again, caught a short but ringing blow on my skull, and then the lad on the sorrel leaned far forward, thrusting at me.
It was the moment for which I had waited. Instantly, I grasped the stick and jerked ... hard.
He was too far forward and off balance, and my jerk took him from the saddle. He fell, crying out, and as he hit the earth I ducked under a blow, grasped the pommel, and swung myself to the empty saddle.
Once again my horsemanship stood me in good stead, and the horse beneath me was quite the best of the lot. The big lad rode as good a horse, perhaps, but outweighed me by fifty or sixty pounds. I hit the saddle, clapped my heels to the horse"s ribs, and took the sorrel away on a dead run.
I had the start of them. Knowing what I planned to do gave me that start and my mount had three good jumps before they realized, and another before they straightened out to run. And I fled into the open land beyond, toward the still-distant sea.
They came after me. Their angry shouts rang in my ears and I heard the pound of hooves behind me, but the sorrel was a fine horse and it loved to run. A glance back showed me I now led them by at least five lengths and was gaining. They rode wildly, heedlessly, thoughtless of their mounts. I eased my speed a little for I knew not how far I must go and I chose the better ground. Hence despite easing the speed I held my lead, and darkness was close upon us. Once the dark came, I should have a chance.
Glancing back again, I saw that one of them had fallen out of the race, for what reason I knew not. Lack of will, perhaps, for it had been easily seen that he who led them drove them as well. Two only pursued me now, and one of those was falling back.
On into the gathering dark I raced, straight toward the place where the sun had set, and now only one horse was pursuing. Suddenly, I know not what devil possessed me, I slowed my pace and swung my horse around to face him. He came thundering on, realizing too late that I had stopped, and as he pulled up hastily, I slapped heels to my sorrel and charged him. My mount hit his at the shoulder as he was reining in and his horse staggered and went down.
He was quick, oh, so very quick! He leaped from the saddle as his horse fell, and sprang at me. I reined my horse away and thrust at him with the sword-cane, the blade still sheathed. It grazed the side of his head and staggered him and I pivoted the horse and came at him again. He lunged at me but I swung the horse away and drove my heel into the big lad"s shoulder.
It was a wrong move, for his hand grasped my leg and the next I knew I was sprawling on the earth and he was standing over me.
"Hah!" he said. "Now we shall see!" Having wrestled much, I did not try to escape but threw my weight against his legs. It might as well have been against the side of a barn, for he gave not an inch but stooped to grab me. Catching his sleeve, I jerked hard and he fell forward. I was the more agile and was out from under him and on my feet.
He came up swiftly but I struck him hard in the face as he rose. It slowed him not at all, yet I hit him again before he was up, then leaped for my sword-cane.
He saw me pick it up and drew his sword.
We faced each other on the moors in the half-light. Already the stars were out, yet we had been in the darkness and each could see plainly enough.
From the sheath I drew my blade. It was a small blade, as such sword-cane blades are apt to be, shorter by inches than the usual sword. He had the reach of me, anyway, by several inches.