The Man On Horseback

: The Doomsman

Gavan of the Greenwood Keep was a prosperous man according to the

standard of these latter days, and his estate was reckoned to be the

largest and finest holding in all the western country-side. A man might

walk from break of day until darkness and yet not complete the periphery

of its boundary-lines, but the palisaded portion included only the

arable land and home paddocks and was of comparatively limited extent.

View
d from a bird's-eye elevation, this stockaded enclosure appeared to

be laid out in the shape of a pear, the house being situated near the

small end. The greatest length of the area thus enclosed was a mile and

a half, and it was three-quarters of a mile wide at the big or southern

side, tapering down to a couple of hundred yards at the northern

entrance or barrier.



A quarter of a mile back from the north gate stood the keep, not one

distinct building, but rather several, built in the form of a hollow

square and consolidated for mutual protection. The principal entrance,

the one at the northern end, was called the water gate, for it should be

explained that the keep stood on the bank of the Ochre brook and access

was only possible by means of a drawbridge. Some day Sir Gavan intended

to turn the course of the stream so as to carry it around the keep and

thereby secure the protection of a continuous moat. But hitherto other

duties had seemed more pressing, and the plan was still in abeyance.



Entering through the covered way of the water gate, with guard-room and

bailiff's office to the right and left, one found himself in the

court-yard, some fifty yards in the square. On the right were the

cow-barns, horse-stalls, granaries, tool-houses, and store-buildings,

while the dwelling proper, known as the Great House, occupied the entire

left of the square, the kitchens and other offices adjoining the

retainers' quarters on the south. An enormous hall, running clear to the

roof, took up the central portion of the house, staircases and galleries

affording access to the store and sleeping-rooms on the second and attic

stories. The roof proper was surmounted by a para-petted and loop-holed

structure called the fighting platform, and it was thither that Constans

had repaired upon receiving the startling intelligence of his sister's

disappearance. Let us rejoin him there.



In the leisurely moving figure glimpsed through the birches, Constans

had instantly recognized Issa. Plainly she had been out flower-hunting;

with the aid of his binoculars he could determine that she carried a

bunch of the delicate pink-and-white blossoms that we call May-bloom.

She was directing her steps straight for the house, but either she was

unaccountably deaf to the continuous clanging of the alarm-bell or,

still more strangely, unaware of its significance; she walked as though

in a reverie, slowly and with her head bent forward. Thunder of God! it

was a trap, and the foolish girl would not see. Unquestionably, the

Doomsmen had forced the stockade at some distant point and were even now

in ambush about the keep. But Constans, for all his keenness of vision

and the assistance of his glass, could discover nothing to indicate the

presence of any considerable body of men. There was no one in actual

sight save he who sat upon his blood-bay steed, girth deep in the Ochre

brook under shadow of the alders. Only one, but that one!



Constans found himself in the court-yard; how he scarcely knew. The

water gate still stood open with the drawbridge lowered, but both could

be easily secured within a few seconds should the enemy venture upon any

open demonstration. Sir Gavan stood in the covered way talking anxiously

with his eldest son Tennant, who had just returned from an unsuccessful

search of the upper orchard.



Constans, in his confusion of mind, did not notice his father and

brother; he ran across the court-yard to the horse-boxes. His black mare

Night whickered upon recognizing her master, and tried to rub her muzzle

against his cheek as he fumbled with the throat-latch of the bridle. An

instant longer, to lead out the mare and vault upon her back, and he was

clattering through the court-yard and covered way.



Upon reaching the open Constans saw that the situation had developed

into a crisis. The cavalier of the ostrich-feather had forced his horse

up the steep bank of the Ochre brook and was riding slowly towards the

girl, who stood motionless, realizing her perilous position, but unable

for the moment to cope with it. She half turned, as though to seek again

the shelter of the birchen copse; then, clutching at her impeding

skirts, she ran in the direction of the keep. He of the ostrich-plume

spurred to the gallop; inevitably their paths must intersect a few yards

farther on.



From behind came the noise of men shouting and the thud of quarrels

impinging upon stout oak; the Doomsmen, hitherto in hiding, were making

a diversion, in answer, doubtless, to a signal from their leader. A

hundred gray-garbed men showed themselves in the open, coming from the

shelter of the fir plantation back of the rickyards; they ran towards

the open water gate, exposing themselves recklessly in their eagerness

to reach it.



But the defenders were not to be surprised so easily, and Constans,

glancing backward, saw that the drawbridge was already in the air and

the gate closed. The outlaws, realizing that the surprise was a failure,

and unwilling to brave the arrows sent whistling about their ears from

the fighting platforms of the keep, fell back in some disorder. At the

same moment a solitary figure appeared, emerging as though by magic from

the solid wall of the keep--Sir Gavan himself, a father forgetful of all

else but the peril of his children. He must have used the "Rat's-Hole"

for egress; he hurried down the green slope, calling his daughter by

name. All this Constans saw in that swift backward glance. Well, there

was but one thing that he could do.



And Night knew it, too; brave little Night, how cleverly you forced

yourself under the towering bulk of that brute of a blood-bay! A thunder

of hoofs and they were in touch; Constans felt himself hurled into

space; the bridle-reins of tough plaited leather were torn from his

hands; Night and he were down.



The dust cloud cleared and the boy struggled up, although his head was

still spinning from the shock of the encounter. Ten yards away lay the

black mare with a broken foreleg. She was trying to rise, her eyes

glazed with pain and her flanks heaving horribly.



The blood-bay had kept his feet and his master his saddle--a hardy pair,

these two. But the desperate expedient had proved successful in that

Issa was safe. Already Sir Gavan had her in his arms, and before the

horseman had fully found himself the fugitives were under the shadow of

the keep's walls.



The question of his own danger did not immediately concern Constans; he

had no eyes for anything but Night lying there in her agony. His father

had given him the horse when she was a foal of a week old, and Constans

had broken and trained her himself. Well, she had served him faithfully,

and in return he would show her the last mercy. His knife-sheath hung

from his girdle; he drew out the blade and drove it home just behind the

glossy black shoulder. Night shuddered and lay still. The knife had

sunken deep, and Constans had to exert all his strength to withdraw it.

The bare point of a rapier touched him meaningly on the arm; he stood up

and faced his enemy.



The man on horseback laughed softly. "Oho, my young cockerel, it was but

a touch of the gaff, and now that you are ready is reason sufficient why

I should prefer to wait. But that neither of us may forget--" He bent

down and caught Constans by the shoulders, turning him around and

forcing him backward until his head rested against the blood-bay's

withers. Two slashes of his hunting-knife and a tiny, triangular nick

appeared on the upper part of the lad's right ear.



"That is my sign-manual of which I spoke to you an hour or more ago. It

is Quinton Edge's mark, as all men know, and it brands whatever bears it

as Quinton Edge's property. Some day I may deem it worth while to claim

my own; until then you can be my caretaker, my tenant. What! no answer?

And yet it is a generous offer, I think, considering how sore my arm has

grown and how impertinently you behaved just now in interfering between

me and a lady. Light of God! but she is a bewitching bundle of

femineity. But twice, boy, have I seen her; hardly a dozen words have

passed----"



He stopped abruptly and gazed hard at Constans. Then slowly:



"Your sister, I take it; there is the same straight line of eyebrow. No

answer again? Well, we will pass it over for the nonce; you have still

many things to learn, and, chiefly, to becomingly order body and soul in

the presence of your lord. After all, it pleases me better to have the

last word from the lady's own lips; she had been most discourteously

treated, and I would fain be shriven. Until we meet again, then."



The cavalier put spur to the blood-bay's flank and rode straight for the

Great House. The boy stood staring after him; he did not notice the

trickle of blood from the cut in his ear; he was not even conscious that

he was still in life. He remembered only the unforgivable affront which

this man had put upon him, the mark which was the infamous badge of the

bondman, the slave. Quinton Edge! Ah, yes; he would remember that face

and name.



The Doomsman had ridden in cool defiance up to the very walls of the

keep. It would have been an easy matter for one of the garrison to have

bored his gay jacket through with a feathered shaft, and for a moment

Constans trembled, fearing lest some overzealous partisan should thus

rob him of his future vengeance. But the very audacity of the man proved

the saving of his skin. They were brave men who manned the fighting

platforms of the Greenwood Keep, and they could not bring themselves to

set upon naked courage.



Constans fancied that the man spoke to some one who stood hidden in the

deep embrasure of a window, but it was too far to either see or hear.

Then it seemed that a small object fell lightly from the window-sill.

The Doomsman caught it dexterously and fastened it on his breast.

Another low bow and, wheeling his horse, he dashed down the slope.

Constans ran blindly to meet him; why, he did not know. He who named

himself Quinton Edge swerved slightly in his course so as to pass within

arm's-length, calling out as he did so:



"Gage of battle and gage of love; a fortunate day for me. Believe me

that at some future time I shall answer for them both."



It was a sprig of the May-bloom that the cavalier wore in his

button-hole; Constans had only time to recognize it when the blood-bay

broke into full gallop. The lad flung himself at full length upon the

turf, face downward, and lay there motionless.



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