CHAPTER IX   CONCERNING GEOFFREY'S DESPERATE RESOLVE

"Though we have not Sir Yves in our hands, we have not fared badly," said Arnold Gripwell, as they hurried off to muster the men of Taillemartel, leaving the son of Sir Yves in the charge of a party of archers. "With Sir Denis and this Henri as our captives we ought to bring the Lord of Malevereux to his senses."

"He will scarce dare to carry out his threat now," replied Geoffrey. "No doubt he will be willing to effect an exchange of prisoners. But what have they done with Sir Denis?"

The man-at-arms and his charge had reached the scene of the encounter with the brother of Sir Yves, but the helpless steel-clad body of Sir Denis was nowhere to be seen.

"Perchance some of our men have him in safe keeping," observed Gripwell. "I pray thee summon our soldiers that we may question them on this matter."

In response to a trumpet call the garrison of Taillemartel formed up in the village street, wearied yet triumphant. The defence and subsequent rout of the invaders had not been accomplished without severe loss. Eleven men had been killed, and over a score grievously wounded, including Bertrand de Vaux, the seneschal; while nearly every other man-at-arms and archer had received some slight injury. Of the peasants but three had been killed and ten wounded, for they had mainly contented themselves by hurling stones from a safe distance.

Careful inquiries failed to throw any light on the fate of Sir Denis. Unnoticed by the defenders, his varlet, with praiseworthy devotion, had dragged the hapless knight from the fray, and, assisting him to a horse, had provided him with the means of flight.

Great was Geoffrey's disappointment at the escape of Sir Denis, but, consoling himself with the fact that the only son of Sir Yves was a prisoner in his hands, he led his men back to the Castle of Taillemartel.

Some of the bolder spirits were for setting off in immediate pursuit of the remnants of the invading forces, while the investment of Malevereux was seriously discussed. But Gripwell knew that the slender garrison of Taillemartel was quite insufficient to hope to reduce the formidable defences of Sir Yves' stronghold. More prudent measures must be taken if Sir Oliver were to regain his freedom.

Accordingly one of the prisoners was liberated and given a letter to his master in which the news of his son's capture was made known. Geoffrey also expressed therein his willingness to hand Henri over to his father should Sir Yves set Sir Oliver and his squire Oswald at liberty, without further delay.

Three days later a curt message was received from the Tyrant of Malevereux.

"Do as thou wilt with my son," he wrote. "Since he hath been fool enough to fall into thy hands, let him shift for himself. But rest assured concerning the oath I swore relating to Sir Oliver, not one jot nor one tittle will I abate in fulfilment of it."

"Here is a fine ado," quoth Gripwell. "'Tis certain this base villain hath no more regard for his son than for the veriest cur in his kennels."

"Perchance this Henri will offer ransom," suggested Geoffrey doubtfully.

"We can but try him. Methinks that with all the treasure stored within the walls of Malevereux 'twould be passing strange if this prisoner of ours hath not command of ten thousand crowns."

Accordingly Geoffrey and the men-at-arms, attended by two archers, entered the narrow chamber in which Sir Yves' son was confined.

Henri de Valadour, the son of Sir Yves de Malevereux, was sitting on a stone bench, brooding over his misfortunes. He had been shown a consideration that contrasted favourably with his sire's treatment of Sir Oliver, but the sullen countenance of the prisoner belied any feelings of gratitude for his courteous though compulsory entertainment.

"Ten thousand crowns, by my hilt!" he cried disdainfully when the matter was mentioned. "Ye'll do well if ye see the colour of ten thousand sous. If it be thy will to put me to death so be it; but I pray thee, fair sir, that it may not be by means of a hempen rope."

"'Twould be a fine sight for the countryside to see Henri, son of Sir Yves, dangling by his neck from the topmost turret of Taillemartel," said Gripwell roughly.

"Forbear, Arnold, forbear," exclaimed Geoffrey, speaking in English. "'Tis not meet that a commoner should speak thus to the son of a belted knight—e'en though his sire is unworthy of his coat-armour."

Then turning to Henri: "Nay, we are not murderers," he continued. "Failing the ransom or a fair exchange of prisoners, thou must needs remain here awhile in durance. Perchance thy father may see fit to swerve from his purpose."

A look of gratitude flashed across the sullen countenance of the prisoner. As a raider, captured in an attempt to pillage the village of a neighbouring baron, he had expected nothing less than death, since a ransom was not to be considered.

"Fair sir, I thank thee," he replied. "Would that I could serve thee by saving Sir Oliver's life; but, though it shames me to say it, neither mercy nor justice will stand in my father's path."

Despondently Geoffrey brooded over the apparently insoluble situation. Here he was within thirty miles of the castle where his father was languishing. The slender garrison of Taillemartel was insufficient to beleaguer the fortress of Malevereux, though at a word every man would gladly follow him on a forlorn hope. Also he held the son of his arch-enemy as a surety for his father's safety, yet that hope, too, had failed him. Neither could he raise and offer the stipulated ransom, seeing it was against Sir Oliver's fixed purpose. And the eve of the feast of St. Silvester was now within the space of a few days.

As he ruminated over these things Geoffrey had an inspiration. It was but a faint hope, he told himself, yet 'twas better than nothing. He would take advantage of the open house that Sir Yves kept on the eve of his patron saint's day and enter the castle in disguise. By some means the opportunity might occur to provide Sir Oliver with a file or a knife. With these in his possession much might be done in the hours of darkness 'twixt the eve and feast of St. Silvester.

Geoffrey realized that he must keep Gripwell in ignorance of his errand—at least, till he had placed a fair distance between him and Taillemartel; for the old man-at-arms would never permit his charge thus to place his head in the lion's jaws. But the lad had counted the cost, and was prepared to take the risk.

Ere long the plan matured into action. Stealthily providing himself with a long rope, the lad hid it in one of the small rooms built in the outer wall of the castle. A suit of mean attire was also laid by, and all that remained to be done was to wait till darkness set in.

An hour before dawn the guards patrolling the battlements stumbled over a knotted rope secured to the carriage of a mangonel.

The alarm was instantly raised, and Gripwell, on arriving on the scene, ordered a general parade, fearing that one of the garrison had deserted.

By the aid of a glare of torches the sub-officers began to tell off the men of their respective divisions, but ere that could be accomplished the word was given that Sir Oliver's son was missing.

Thinking that some foul attempt had been made upon his charge, Arnold Gripwell seized a torch and ran to the lad's apartment. It was empty. His couch had not been slept on, but instead a sealed letter lay upon the pillow.

With trembling fingers the man-at-arms broke the seals and read the contents—

"Arnold Gripwell,—I have set out, with God's blessing, to endeavour to do some small deed of advancement. Do not, I charge thee, attempt to follow or hinder me. Meanwhile the ordering of Taillemartel is in thy hands.—Geoffrey."

For a while the old soldier gazed at the missive without realizing its meaning. The lad had gone, but whither? With bowed head and clasped hands Gripwell knelt before the prie-dieu till the grey dawn gained the mastery over the shades of night, craving for Divine protection for his errant charge.