The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First by George Manville Fenn (best romance books of all time .txt) 📖

the prisoner’s wrists were free; another quick cut divided the rope which drew his elbows together, and then the knees and ankles followed, the strained hemp easily parting at the touch of the keen blade, and Ralph Darley was free.

“Why, Master Mark,” cried the chief man of the party in astonishment, “what you doing of?”

“Can’t you see, idiot?” cried Mark, with a fierce snap.

“But what’s the good of our ketching and tying on him?” cried the man addressed as Tom, in an ill-used tone.

“Say another word, you brute, and I’ll have you tied as you tied him,” cried Mark fiercely.

“Well, I dunno what Sir Eddard’ll say when he knows.”

“What he says he’ll say to me,” cried Mark. “You fellows ought to be in the mine by now. Go back to your work.”

The youth stood pointing down the steep slope, and an angry murmur of opposition arose; but the men began to move off, only to be called back just as Ralph rose painfully to his feet.

“Come here,” cried Mark. “Pick up those pieces of rope.”

“Who’s going to take them back to the mine?” said the leader, in an ill-used tone. “What’s Dan Rugg going to say? Noo rope too.”

“Tell him I cut it,” said Mark imperiously. “You take it back.”

The man picked up the pieces, and Tom quietly took up the creel from where it lay, half hidden by a tuft of fern fronds, to begin moving off with the trout. But Mark let him get a few steps away before following with a rush and a kick which sent the man on his face. Then, as he struggled up, angry and threatening, the lad snatched the creel from his hands.

“The Edens are not thieves,” he said fiercely—“only when they want a few young ravens,” he added, turning with a mocking laugh to Ralph; and once more the two lads stood gazing in each other’s eyes for a few moments, the rustling made by the departing men and the murmur of their voices rising from below.

Then, imitating Ralph’s action of the last time they met, he pointed down to the river, and said, with a mocking laugh:

“It’s my turn now. The Darleys are not the only ones who know how to treat a fallen enemy. Your creel, sir; and you are welcome to our trout.”

Ralph took the basket without a word, and without taking his eyes from Mark’s, while it seemed as if each lad was fighting hard not to be the first to let his glance sink before the other’s.

Then Ralph raised the lid of the creel, and began to take out the fish, but hesitated, and laid them back. To have thrown them on the ground seemed to him contemptible and mean.

“Now go,” said Mark. “You and I are straight, sir. Next time we meet I hope you will wear your sword.”

Ralph hesitated, and remained standing in the same place; his eyes looking as if he wanted to speak, but no words would come; and at last he turned and took a step to go, but his numbed feet and ankles gave way beneath him, and he tottered, and would have fallen, had not Mark involuntarily sprung forward and caught him in his arms.

Ralph laughed painfully.

“Let me sit down on the enemy’s ground for a few minutes,” he said. “Your men have left me no use in my limbs.”

Mark gently let him down; and, faint with pain, the cold sweat breaking out in great drops all over his brow, Ralph said feebly, smiling the while:

“Not straight yet, Master Eden. I am in your debt now.”

Then a deathly feeling of sickness came over him; trees, rocks, and sunny sky were dim, and glided before his eyes till all was darkness, for how long he could not tell.

When he opened his eyes again the sickly feeling still troubled him, but he could not understand why. It was like awakening from some troubled dream, and full consciousness came back slowly. Then, by degrees, he grasped the fact that his head was resting on a tuft of heath, and bracken fronds shaded him from the sun. His wrists throbbed with sharp-shooting pains, which ran right up beyond his elbows. There were pains, too, about his knees and ankles, and there was something else which he could not make out, till he looked towards his feet, to see that some one was seated a little below him on the sharp slope, with back half-turned to him, and his bare legs across his lap, chafing the ankles gently, first one and then the other, over and over again.

Ralph was quite conscious now, but he did not speak. He lay back there, making no movement, no sign; but a curiously dark look came into his eyes, and his lips quivered a little, grew firm again, and were softened by a smile, while a strange glowing sensation set in about his heart.

Five minutes must have elapsed before Mark Eden turned his head, started as he saw that Ralph’s eyes were watching him, and his quiet intent gaze gave place to a frown; his face became scarlet, and he hastily placed his patient’s legs upon the ground.

“How long have you been watching me?” he said hotly.

“Only a minute or so. Did I faint?”

“I suppose so,” said Mark roughly. “Just like a great girl.”

“Yes: very weak of me,” said Ralph quietly.

“Yes, very,” said Mark. “The brutes tied you too tightly. Try if you can walk now. Get down by the river, and bathe them a bit.”

He stood up and thrust his hands behind him, looking at his young enemy scornfully; but the scarlet flush was in his face still, and would make him look as if he were ashamed of what he had been caught doing.

Ralph sat up, and struggled painfully to his feet, turning hot and faint again; but he made a brave effort to be firm, and took a step or two and then stopped, Mark making no effort to assist him. Then stifling a cry of pain, he took another step or two and tottered, when Mark caught his arm.

“You’re shamming,” he cried angrily.

Ralph’s brow wrinkled, and he looked down at his bare legs and feet, raising one a little, painfully, to draw attention to the terribly swollen state of his ankles and knees.

“Shamming!” he said quietly. “Am I? Well, they are not.”

Ralph held out first one leg, and then the other, before seating himself again, drawing his hose from his belt, and trying to draw them on; but at the end of a minute the pain from his swollen wrists forced him to give up the task, and he slowly replaced the hose in his belt.

Twice over, unseen by Ralph, his companion made a gesture as if to advance and help him, but he mastered the inclination; and after a while, Ralph sat perfectly still, waiting for the giddy feeling from which he suffered to go off. And at last, feeling a little better, he rose to his feet, bowed distantly, and began to descend the steep slope; but in a few minutes he was clinging to a tree, helpless once more, and he started, as Mark suddenly said, roughly:

“Here; you don’t know our cliff: let me show you—”

Ralph was under the impression that he had left Mark Eden quite behind, and his surprise was the greater when he found that his enemy was offering him his arm, and ended by helping him down the remainder of the way to the river, where the injured lad gladly seated himself at the edge upon a stone, which enabled him to lave both feet at once in the clear cool current, to the great comfort and relief of his swollen ankles.

After a time he was able to use his feet, resume his hose and shoes, and rise to start back; but it was awkward to part without some word of thanks, and these were very difficult to say to one who stood by all the time, watching every action, with a mocking smile upon his lips.

But the words had to be said, and making an effort Ralph turned to speak. But before a sound had left his lips, Mark burst out with:

“Going now? Very well. Wait till we meet again. That way, sir. I dare say you know that you can cross the river there?”

Ralph bowed coldly, and took a few steps toward the shallows, before stopping short.

“I must go and thank him for what he has done,” he said to himself; and he turned to walk back, but Mark was not visible.

“Master Mark Eden,” he cried; but there was no reply, and he cried again, shouting as loud as he could, but there was still no response. And, sick at heart with pain and vexation, Ralph once more stumbled awkwardly along by the river, amongst stone, bramble, and fern, trying to make out where the deep chasm was down into which he had looked, but it was completely hidden by the trees; and, reaching the shallows, he slowly crossed to go homeward on the more open side, which was a far less difficult task, though it necessitated crossing the river again.

But as the lad disappeared among the trees, Mark Eden rose from where he had been hidden behind a pile of fallen blocks, to make his way into the chasm, and then upward to the castle on the Black Tor, frowning very fiercely, and feeling a good deal dissatisfied with himself, though brightening up a little as he began thinking of what was to happen the next time he and Ralph Darley met.

“One couldn’t do anything,” he said roughly, “till that old business had been put straight.”