THE CHARM OF THE OLD WORLD ROMANCES – Premium 10 Book Collection. Robert BarrЧитать онлайн книгу.
also made the cap more comfortable, because more soft, in the wearing. The archer sat thus with his pile of arrows by his side and the material for their making in front of him, while his slave crouched near, ready to anticipate his wants by promptly handing to him knife or scraping flint, or length of wood, or feather, as the case might require. Surrey's steel cap projected above the parapet and glistened like a mirror in the sun. He was droning to himself a Saxon song, and was as well contented with the world as a warrior may be who is not allowed, at the moment, to scatter wounds and death among his fellow creatures.
Suddenly he was startled by a blow on his steel helmet, which for an instant caused him to think some one had struck him sharply, forgetting that his position made such an act impossible, but this thought had barely time to flash through his mind when he saw an arrow quivering against the flag pole in front of him. He looked at it for a moment with dropped jaw like a man dazed, then as Conrad and the other made motion to rise he cried gruffly:
"Lie down!" as though he spoke to a pair of dogs. The two, however, promptly obeyed.
"There seems to be an expert archer in the camp as well as in the castle," said Conrad. John Surrey sat without moving and without replying, gazing on the arrow which had come to rest in the flag pole. At last he said to his dependent:
"Gottlieb, rise cautiously and peer over the battlements, taking care to show as little of your head as possible, and tell me if you see any one in the camp who looks as if he had sped a shaft."
"I see a tall man," began Gottlieb.
"Yes!" cried the archer.
"Who stands with his hand shading his eyes, looking up at this tower."
"Yes, yes."
"In the fist by his side I think he holds a bow like yours; but the distance is too great for me to make sure what it is."
"He has no cross-bow at least."
"No, it is not a cross-bow."
"I thought so. No cross-bow could have sent shaft like that. I doubt also if archer living, save Roger Kent, could have——"
"He seems to be placing another arrow on the string."
"Then down, down with you. If he has caught sight of your head you are doomed."
An instant later another arrow struck the helmet, glanced over the tower, and disappeared in the forest beyond.
"Now come and sit beside me, Gottlieb," said Surrey, as he lifted the helmet gently and moved away his head from beneath it, not shifting the cap except slightly upwards from its position. "Get under this, and sit steadily so that the target may not be displaced."
Having thus crowned his dependent, Surrey crawled to his bow and selected a well-finished arrow.
"You are surely not going to use your weapon," said Conrad. "The Lord Rodolph has forbidden it."
"He has forbidden it unless I am attacked, and there is the arrow in the pole to prove attack. Besides, I shoot not to kill."
With much care Surrey, exposing himself as little as might be, drew bow and let fly. The tall archer was seen to spring aside, then pause regardless of his danger, stoop and pick up something which lay at his feet, examining the object minutely. Surrey also, unthinking of danger, stood up and watched the other, who, when his examination had been concluded to his satisfaction, dropped the arrow, which was undoubtedly what he had picked up, although the distance was too great for the archer to be sure of that, and, doffing his cap, waved it wildly in the air. Surrey himself gave utterance to a shout that might have aroused even the Archbishops on the height, and danced round like one gone mad, throwing his arms about as if he were an animated windmill.
"It is Roger! It is Roger!" he cried.
The Emperor, hearing the tumult, came hurriedly up the stairs, expecting that an assault was in preparation, and, although relieved to find that no onslaught was intended, seemed to think the archer's ecstacy more vociferous than the occasion demanded. John pointed excitedly at his far-off friend, and said he wished permission to visit him at once, to learn what had befallen him since last they met.
"That is impossible," replied Rodolph. "You would be taken prisoner, and I have no wish to lose so good an archer merely because the opposition camp has, according to your account, a better one."
This obvious comment on his proposal dampened the enthusiasm of the archer, who stood in deep thought regarding wistfully the distant form of his friend. At last he said:
"Would it not be possible then for Roger to visit me here in the castle?"
"I do not see how that may be accomplished. He cannot come here as our friend, and he must not come as a spy. If he refused to give information to his officers when they discovered he had been within the castle, they would imprison him. If he asked their consent before coming, permission would be given only because they expected to learn something from him on his return. We could not receive him even as a deserter, for if starvation be their game, we have enough mouths to feed as it is. And I do not suppose he would desert, if he has taken service with the Archbishop."
"Alas, no," said Surrey, sadly; "he would no more think of deserting than would I myself, having once taken fee for the campaign. It is a blessing that he is a modest man and not given to vaunting his own skill, in the which he differs somewhat from myself perhaps, and thus his commander is little likely to learn his usefulness providing Roger is left to the making of papyrus and poetry, for he alone might subdue this strong castle. If he were set to it there would be no possibility of keeping watch or guard, for he could easily kill any man who showed head above parapet. Not finding me in the ranks of the Archbishop's men, he must have surmised I was here, for fate has always enlisted us on opposite sides, and he perhaps recognised the gleam of my helmet in the sun, and only sent his arrow the more surely to discover my presence, for there are guards on the battlements below whom he might readily have slaughtered had there been deadly motive in his aiming."
"He is about to shoot again," cried Conrad, in alarm.
All looked towards the archer, and it was evident he was preparing another shaft. Surrey waved at him and shouted a warning, but the distance was too great for his voice to carry effectually. Roger Kent on this occasion held the bow above his head and let fly at the arch of heaven. No one on the tower could mark the flight of the arrow, but they saw the sender of it stand and gaze upward after it.
"It is a message of some sort," said Surrey. "Conrad and Gottlieb, get you down to the room below, as you are unarmoured. It will not hurt my Lord, who is in a suit of mail, and I wear my steel cap."
The two obeyed the command with notable alacrity.
"But it may strike you on the shoulder," protested Rodolph.
"I shall watch for it," replied Surrey, "and will be elsewhere when it falls. Do not look upward, I beg of you, my Lord, for thus was our Saxon King, Harold, slain by a like shaft from one of Roger's ancestors. Stand where you are, looking downward, or, better, retire below."
Rodolph laughed.
"I am surely as nimble as you are," he said, "and may thus escape like you the falling shaft."
As the Emperor spoke the arrow came in sight and swiftly descended, speeding down alongside the flag pole so close as almost to touch it on its way. The arrow shattered itself by impact on the stone, and thus loosened a scroll that had been wrapped tightly round it, fastened at each end. Surrey pounced upon this and found the message to be in several sections, one being a letter, while on the others were verse, regarding which the writer, in his communication, begged perusal and criticism. The missive thus launched into the air had evidently been prepared for some time in readiness to be sent when opportunity offered. Surrey gave utterance to several impatient exclamations as he, with considerable difficulty, conned the meaning of the script, and at last he said:
"Roger tells me nothing about how he came to be in the Archbishop's army, nor does he give tidings of anything that should be of interest to a reasonable being. It is all upon his poetry and the lessons to be learned from a perusal of the same, which I think