n Stoddard
With the Black Prince
CHAPTER I.
THE KING'S DEER
There came a sudden sound, breaking the shadowy silence of Longwood forest.
Crash followed crash, at short intervals, with the snapping of dry twigs and bush branches, and then came ringing, clear and sweet, three notes of a hunting horn.
Out into an open glade, where the sunlight fell upon the long, green grass of midsummer, there bounded a splendid stag – a stag royal, a stag of ten – fit to be the antlered monarch of the king's deer in Longwood.
Three leaps, and then the beautiful animal stood still; but as he turned, panting, and lowered his horns, it could be seen that he was wounded. The feather of an arrow in his flank told how deeply the shaft was driven.
He was at bay now, and splendid was his courage as he stood to battle with his pursuers.
Again, and nearer, nearer, sounded the horn; for the hunters were coming.
Out through the leafy barrier of the bushes at the edge of the glade bounded three eager deerhounds, one after another. Large dogs they were, brown-haired, lop-eared. Their baying had chimed in with the music of the horn. Better for them it were if one of the huntsmen had been there to hold them from their haste; for there is danger for any who rush rashly in upon a stag at bay.
Loud voices and the thud of galloping hoofs told that the hunters were close at hand; but they were too late in arriving. The foremost hound dashed fiercely on, his white teeth showing, and his eyes flashing with green light; but the ten-tined antlers passed under him and were lifted swiftly.
Away the hound was hurled, pierced fatally, and then a sudden side stroke disabled the second of the four-footed assailants. The third paused, lifting a forefoot doubtfully as he glanced from one to the other of his unlucky companions. A whizzing shaft passed over his head, and a cloth-yard arrow sped to its mark, inside the shoulder of the deer. The spreading antlers plowed the sod for a moment, and then all was over. A tall, powerful-looking man, who came riding up, sprang from his horse, and stood by the wounded dogs, exclaiming:
"These short-legged galloways have cost us two hounds! We had better stalk a deer than run him, unless we have swifter steeds."
"Stalking must serve our turn, now the dogs are gone," growled a shorter man who had come up and now stood beside him. "I would the legs of our nags had been longer!"
They were rough-looking men, and they spoke in the burred Saxon-English of Warwickshire five hundred years ago. It was another tongue from any now spoken in England.
The galloways, of whose legs they had complained, were the undersized and shaggy-maned horses they had ridden in that hunt. Such were plentiful then, but none other could be had save by those who could pay large prices.
"Fools are we," remarked another man. "And mayhap the horn blast has gone to the wrong ears with token of our doings. That was thy blowing, Guy the Bow."
"And what care we?" responded the tall hunter. "'Tis long since there hath been a royal keeper in any wood of Arden Forest. Earl Warwick himself never hunteth as far to the north as this. There's no harm in a horn, and I like well the sound, and the baying o' the dogs. We'll not again hear either very soon."
Others had now come up, but they said little. They lifted their game to the back of one of the galloways. The arrows were carefully extracted, cleaned, and restored to the quivers of their owners. The men were all stalwart fellows, and the bows they carried were tremendous weapons. When unstrung, such a bow would rest upon a man's foot and touch his nose, and only a strong and practiced arm could bend one. Besides the bows, they carried short, two-edged swords hanging at their belts, in which were also stuck broad-bladed knives or daggers. They wore no armor except light headpieces of steel, and their garments appeared to be made of leather. The body coats were like leather blouses, soiled and worn. They wore leggings of deerskin, but several were barefooted.
A brave-looking dozen were these hunters of Longwood. Their faces were not evil, and their talk was that of kindly men fond of adventure and of sport, but caring little whose deer they were taking.
The carcass of the stag had been bound to one of the horses, and the hunters were mounting, when a loud shout came from under the nearest oaks:
"Ho, there! Halt! What do ye, killing the king's deer?"
"Stand for your lives, men!" exclaimed Guy the Bow. "I'll not be taken!"
"Nor I!" roared a burly hunter at his side; "but – it's young Neville of Wartmont. I could not strike him."
Only five men came riding out from under the trees, but they were all well mounted, and were better armed than were the hunters. Every man of them wore linked mail, with shield and lance and sword, while at every saddlebow hung a mace or battleaxe. Their helmets were open in front, and the face of the foremost rider was that of a beardless boy. It was a very resolute face, however, and he raised his hand as he again demanded:
"In the king's name, what do ye?"
"We be free men," said Guy sturdily. "Little reason hath thy father's son to question our acts."
"Why not?" came back. "Yonder stag is a death-warrant for every man of you!"
"Not so," exclaimed the burly hunter. "I am Ben o' Coventry, and we all stand by Guy the Bow. Will thy mail shirt keep out a cloth-yard shaft, Richard Neville of Wartmont?"
An arrow was on every bowstring at that moment; but Guy the Bow spoke again.
"Thou art a boy, Richard Neville," he said. "I will tell thee somewhat thou shouldst know. Thou hast only the ruins of thy tower to dwell in; but when Earl Mortimer claimed thy father's barony, and sent his men to put his seneschal in holding, the yeomen of Wartmont and Longwood, and more from further on in Arden, stood by the Neville. The Mortimer raided our holdings, burning house and barn. He lost his head years on, and thy uncle is Earl of Warwick; but the bowmen of these parts had become used to taking Earl Mortimer's deer."
"They are the king's deer now," said Richard. "Ye know that well."
"They bear no mark," grumbled Ben, lowering his bow. "We'll call that stag for Mortimer, this day, in spite of the Neville. Take us not. Go back to your tower."
"My young lord," was spoken in a low voice from among the men in mail behind him, "let them alone. They are thine own men. It's only a deer more or less. There are foes enough. Hark to Ben once more."
"I heard thee, sir," said Ben gratefully. "He might do well to heed thy saying; but let him now hear what Guy may tell him."
"My young Lord of Wartmont," said Gay, "I had verily thought to go and see thee this day. Knowest thou not that Clod of Lee, the Club of Devon, hath been heard from this side the Avon? He was one of Mortimer's men, and he hateth thee and thine. He is a wolf's head, by all law. He and his outlaws would find at Wartmont much that such as they would seek. Go in haste and hold thy tower against them, if thou canst, and bother not thyself with a free hunt and a nag-load of venison."
"Thou art no king's forester," added Ben of Coventry. "These are times when a man may let well enough alone."
"He speaketh truly," whispered Richard's mailed adviser. "Ride we to the castle as fast as we may. Thy mother – "
"Not a dozen swordsmen are at the Mount!" exclaimed Richard.
