Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First by George Manville Fenn (best romance books of all time .txt) 📖
- Author: George Manville Fenn
Book online «The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First by George Manville Fenn (best romance books of all time .txt) 📖». Author George Manville Fenn
“Oh, this is too much,” cried the visitor. “It is enough to make me call in my men.”
“Indeed!” said Sir Morton coolly. “Why call them in to hear me recapitulate your disgrace? As to your appeals to me for help, and your claim, which you profess to have upon me, let me remind you that you were engaged as a soldier of fortune, and well paid for your services, though you and yours disgraced the royal army by your robberies and outrages. All you gained you wasted in riot and drunkenness, and now that you are suffering for your follies, you come and make claims upon me.”
“Oh, this is too hard upon a poor soldier who has bled in his country’s service. Did I not once save your life, when you were at your last gasp?”
“No, sir; it was the other way on. I saved yours, and when I was surrounded, and would have been glad of your help, you ran away.”
“Ha-ha-ha!” cried Ralph, bursting into a roar of laughter.
“Ah–h–ah!” cried the captain fiercely, as he half drew his sword; but he drove it back with a loud clang into its sheath directly. “Stay there, brave blade, my only true and trusted friend. He is the son of my old companion-in-arms, and I cannot draw upon a boy.”
Ralph laughed aloud again, and the captain scowled, and rolled his eyes fiercely; but he did not startle the lad in the least, and after a long, fierce stare, the man turned to Sir Morton.
“Don’t be hard upon an old brother-soldier, Morton Darley,” he said.
“No, I will not,” said Sir Morton quietly. “You and your men can refresh yourselves in the hall, and when you start on your way, I will give you a pound or two to help you.”
“Oh, as if I were a common wayside beggar. Comrade, this is too hard. Can you not see that my beard is getting grizzled and grey?”
“Yes; but I do not see what that has to do with it.”
“Think again, old comrade. Twelve brave and true men have I with me. Take us as your gentlemen and men at arms to protect you and yours against those who are unfriendly. You must have enemies.”
Sir Morton started and glanced at his son, for these words touched a spring in his breast. With thirteen fighting men to increase his little force, what might he not do? The Edens’ stronghold, with its regularly coming-in wealth, must fall before him; and, once in possession, Sir Edward Eden might petition and complain; but possession was nine points of the law, and the king had enough to do without sending a force into their wild out-of-the-way part of the world to interfere. Once he had hold of the Black Tor, he could laugh at the law, and see the old enemy of his house completely humbled.
Sir Morton hesitated and turned his head, to find his son watching him keenly, while Captain Purlrose stood with his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, making the scabbard cock out behind, and lift up the back of his ragged cloak, as with his right he twisted up and pointed one side of his rusty-grey fierce moustache.
The man was watching Sir Morton keenly, and his big ears twitched, as he tried to catch the whispered words which passed between father and son.
“What do you say, Ralph, lad? With the help of these men I could easily make Eden bite the dust. Then the Black Tor would be mine, and afterwards yours; with all the rich revenue to be drawn from the lead-mine. It is very tempting, boy.”
“Yes, father,” said the boy hotly, and his face flushed as he spoke; “but that’s what it is—a miserable temptation. We’ll humble the Edens, and have the Black Tor and the lead-mine; but we’ll win all with our swords like gentlemen, or fail. We could not go and take the place with a set of ruffians like those outside, and helped by such a man as yonder bully. You couldn’t do it, father. Say no.”
“Hah! More insults,” cried Purlrose, who had caught a word here and there. “But no; lie still, good sword: he is a beardless boy, and the son of the brave comrade I always honoured, whate’er my faults.”
Ralph turned upon him angrily; but his father laid a hand upon the boy’s shoulder, and pressed it hard.
“Right, Ralph, lad,” he said warmly, and he looked proudly in the boy’s eyes. “I could not do it in that way.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the lad, with a sigh of content.
“No, Purlrose,” continued Sir Morton. “I shall not avail myself of your services. Go into the hall and refresh yourself and your men. Come to me afterward, and I will help you as I said.”
“With a mouthful of bread, and a few pence, and after all this weary journey across these wild moors. But I see: it is all through the words of this beardless boy. Suppose I tell you that, now I have come, I mean to stay?” he added threateningly.
“Shall I get the men together, father?” said Ralph quickly.
“No, boy, there is no need,” said Sir Morton firmly. “I am not afraid of Michael Purlrose’s threats.”
“What!” cried the man. “You do not know me yet.”
“Better than you know yourself, sir,” said Sir Morton, rising. “That is the way to the hall. Have the goodness to go first.”
The captain threw his cloak back over his right shoulder, slapped his right hand heavily upon his rusty breast-plate, and then, with a flourish, caught at the hilt of his sword, and again half drew it from its sheath, to stand scowling at Ralph, the intentness of his gaze seeming to affect his eyes, so that they began to lean towards each other, as if for help, till his look became a villainous squint. Then, as neither father nor son quailed before him, he uttered a loud “Hah!” thrust back his sword, and strode with a series of stamps to the door, his high, buff-leather boots rustling and creaking the while.
There he faced round.
“I give you one more chance, Morton Darley,” he cried. “Yes or no?”
“No,” said Sir Morton firmly.
“One moment before it is too late. Are we to be friends or foes?”
“Neither,” shouted Ralph quickly.
“Yes, boy, one or the other. You, Morton Darley, will you take me into your service, or do you drive me into going straight to your rival and enemy, who will jump at my offer, and pay me better than I could expect of you?”
“Go where you please, sir,” said Sir Morton.
“Ah, you drive me to it, when I would have been your friend. There, it must be so; but don’t blame me when you are humbled in the dust.”
“Why, if you go there,” cried Ralph, “Sir Edward Eden will make his men disarm your crew of ragged Jacks, and set you all to work in his mine.”
“What! Never. Now, Darley, once more—friends or foes?”
“Neither, I tell you, man. Now leave my place at once, you and yours. I will neither help you nor have any further dealings with you. Go.”
“What!” roared Purlrose; and this time he drew his sword fully, and Ralph’s bright blade followed suit, glittering, while the captain’s looked rusty and dull.
“Pooh! put up your sword, Ralph,” said Sir Morton, advancing toward their visitor, who began to shrink back. “Sheathe your blade, sir,” he said sternly, and without paying the least attention to the man’s bullying looks, he threw open the door, and pointed to the entrance.
He passed out, giving the door behind him a heavy slam, and marched out to the group standing about the broad steps and road, where father and son could hear him haranguing his men, who immediately burst into an angry yell, and for the most part turned menacingly toward the house.
“Shall I fasten the door, father?” cried Ralph excitedly.
“No,” said Sir Morton firmly. “I know my man of old.”
Ralph looked on and listened, as a low growl arose; but, bully and coward or no, it was evident that Captain Purlrose was master of his men, who stood listening and nodding their heads, one or two slapping the hilts of their swords menacingly, and at last the leader of the ragged crew turned and shook his fist threateningly at the house, and ended by striding jauntily away through the embattled gateway, followed by his gang.
“Will they come back, father, at night?” said Ralph, after uttering a sigh of relief.
“No, my boy; I judge the men by their leader. Michael Purlrose always had a wholesome love of keeping his skin sound; his men have, without doubt, the same. He will execute his threat, though, of going to Eden’s.”
“And if Sir Edward takes them into his service, it will be awkward for us, father.”
“Yes, if, my boy; but I do not think that Eden will. We shall hear no more of the vagabonds, unless Purlrose comes back to beg.”
“I’ll go and watch them, father,” cried Ralph eagerly.
“Yes; but you will not go near, so as to run any risk? If they found you alone, they would attack and strip you of everything of value you have.”
“I’ll take care,” cried the lad. “I can get up to the side of the cliff, and watch them right away. I can see the path to the Black Tor from there.”
“Yes; go,” said Sir Morton, and the boy hurried out, crossed the little court, and passing through a small side-door, reached the slope of the cliff upon which the old castle was built, and then by a narrow pathway, clambered a couple of hundred feet higher, starting the jackdaws from their resting-places, making them fly off, uttering angry cries of tah! tah! Then throwing himself down behind a great block of limestone, which had fallen from above, and which looked as if a thrust would send it hurtling down some hundred feet, into the river below, he waited till, as he fully expected, he saw the party of men appear down below in the track; and then he followed their course, seeing them disappear behind the trees, appear again, and after making divers short cuts, as if their leader were well acquainted with the place, make off for the ford. Then he watched them as they straggled across the river, and struck into the narrow cliff path which led to the great dark-hued cliff known as the Black Tor, where the Edens’ impregnable stronghold stood, perched upon a narrow ledge of rock which rose up like a monstrous tongue from the earth, connected on one side by a narrow natural bridge with the main cliff, the castellated building being protected on all sides by a huge rift fully a couple of hundred feet deep, the tongue being merely a portion of the cliff split away during some convulsion of nature; or perhaps gradually separated by subsidence, the top affording sufficient space for the building, and its courtyards.
Ralph watched the men until the last had disappeared; and then, knowing from the configuration of the place as he had seen it from another point of view, that he would probably not see them again for an hour or two, perhaps not again that day, if Sir Edward Eden received the proposals of Captain Purlrose favourably, he began slowly and thoughtfully to descend. For he knew that it would be a serious matter for his father if Sir Edward Eden seized upon the opportunity for strengthening his retainers and attacking his rival.
The feud between the two families had lasted for generations, beginning so far back that the origin was lost in the mists of time. All that Ralph Darley knew was, that in the days of Henry the Eighth, an Eden had
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