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

battered hall-door, looked round at the shivered casements and the walls blackened and whitened by the powder blast, and then hurried through the gateway into the outer court.

But Dummy was not there now, so he passed through and saw the boy waiting at the entrance of the gateway which had protected the bridge so poorly on the previous night.

“Where is he?” cried Mark.

“Bit o’ the way down the path,” was the reply.

“Is it Captain Purlrose?” asked Mark.

“Yah! No, not him. T’other enemy.”

“What enemy? Whom do you mean?”

“Him you hate so. Young Ralph Darley.”

“Here?” cried Mark in astonishment.

“Yes; I see him coming up, and was going to heave a big stone down on him, but he threw up his hands, and called out as he wanted you.”

“Why, what can he want?” cried Mark, flushing with fresh excitement.

“I dunno, but it’s some mischief, or a Darley wouldn’t have come. You be on the look out: he’s got his sword. I’ll come with you and let him have my pick if he means anything again’ you. He’s heard of the fighting, and thinks we’re beat; so just you look out.”

“You stop here,” said Mark sharply, for he felt that this must be an advance toward friendship on the part of the Darleys—that on hearing of the attack Sir Morton had sent his son as an ambassador, to offer to join Sir Edward Eden in an expedition to crush their mutual foe.

“Stop here, Master Mark, and let you go into danger,” cried Dummy. “I won’t!”

“Stop here, sir! How dare you!” cried Mark. “Do you think that I cannot defend myself against a boy like that?”

“He’s as big a boy as you are, Master Mark, and I won’t let you go alone.”

“Dummy, you’re an insolent dog,” cried Mark haughtily. “Keep your place, sir, or I’ll never go down the mine with you again.”

“Oh, very well,” said the boy sulkily, “but if he cuts your head off, don’t come and howl about it to me after it’s done.”

“I promise you I won’t,” cried Mark.

“And I shall climb up yonder and watch you, Master Mark; and if he kills you I’ll follow him till I get him, and I’ll take him and heave him down that big hole in the mine, where the water falls.”

Mark hardly heard this, for he was hurrying over the bridge, followed by Dummy, who, as his young master went down the zigzag path, began to climb up to where he could keep watch, a sentry being higher still, where he could command the approaches to the Tor Castle.

At the bottom of the third slope, Mark came upon Ralph, who was approaching to meet him, and at a glance he saw that something terrible had happened, for the lad’s face was haggard and wild. There were smears of blood about his temples, while his face looked as if it had been washed, and some injury had bled again. In addition, a closer inspection showed that his hair had been singed off on one side, while the other was matted by dry blood.

“Why, hullo! Have you been in the wars too?”

“Help!” cried the lad, holding out his hands to him imploringly.

“Help? You come to me!” said Mark wonderingly.

“Yes, to you, mine enemy,” cried Ralph, with a wild hysterical cry. “I am humbled now—there is no one else to go to. Oh, for pity’s sake, help!”

He covered his face with his hands in his shame and agony, feeling that his manhood had gone out of him, and Mark felt that something terrible must have occurred, for a burst of hysterical sobbing escaped from the wounded lad, and he threw himself face downward upon the path.

For a moment shame and contempt reigned in Mark Eden’s breast, but they were chased away by a manly feeling of pity for the enemy who seemed to be humbling himself so before him.

Then all selfishness passed away in turn, and the word enemy dropped out of his being as the true English boy shone out of his eyes in compassion for a lad who had evidently passed through some terrible experience.

“I say! Darley,” he said gently, “don’t go on like that. I know, though I don’t like you, that you are a brave lad, and it hurts me to see you so. There’s a sentry up yonder, and our boy, Dummy. Don’t let them see you cry. It’s like a woman.”

Ralph sprang to his feet, with his face distorted, and his eyes flashing wildly.

“Yes,” he cried fiercely, “like a weak, pitiful girl; but I couldn’t keep it back. If it had not come I should have gone mad, for my head felt as if it was on fire. That’s past now, and I can talk. You see how I am, I have come to you and your father—to you Edens, our enemies—to ask you by all that is holy, by all that’s manly, to help me.”

He stopped, panting, and trying to speak, but the words would not come; he was choking. The blood seemed to rush to his temples so that the veins stood out, and he reeled and would have fallen had not Mark caught, supported him, and lowered him down upon the rocky path.

Then looking up, he shouted to Dummy.

“Fetch two men here—quick!” he cried.

Dummy disappeared, and Mark knelt down and unfastened the neck of the lad’s doublet, and saw that his head had received a bad cut, for the cap had fallen off, and his face was ghastly.

“Poor lad!” said Mark softly. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help liking him. Why, I know,” he cried excitedly. “That’s it. I never saw such an enemy! He must have known that we were being attacked, and been coming to help us, and those fiends have served him like this. That’s it! He’s just the fellow who would do it, for I know he likes me. I’ve seen it over and over again.”

He sprang up, feeling ashamed of what he had said, and afraid of being seen by his people, for he heard steps coming; and directly after, Dummy came running down, followed by a couple of stout miners, each fully armed.

“Here, Dummy,” cried Mark, “run all the way to Master Rayburn, and tell him to come here directly.”

“Go to fetch Master Rayburn for him?” said the boy, staring.

“Yes, can’t you see he is wounded and burnt? Run, or I’ll go myself!”

Dummy, awed by this—to him—awful threat, dashed down the zigzag at a dangerous pace, while, at their young master’s orders, the two miners gently lifted and bore the insensible lad up to the castle, into the dwelling-house, and then to Mark’s chamber, where he was laid upon the bed.

As soon as he had dismissed the bearers, Mark began to bathe the lad’s temples, and in a few minutes he opened his eyes and stared wildly round.

“Where am I?” he said.

“Here: safe,” said Mark.

Recollection came back to the poor fellow’s swimming brain, and he threw his legs off the couch and tried to rise, but sank back with a groan.

“There: you can’t,” said Mark soothingly, and he took his hand. “Tell me—what’s happened? You didn’t see, because you’d fainted when I had you brought in, but we’re in trouble too. But I suppose you know. Were you going to help?”

“To help?” said Ralph faintly. “No; to ask for help. They took us by surprise. Our men wounded. Just at day-break. We were all asleep. They climbed in.”

“Who did? Purlrose?”

“Yes; and his men. Father called me to dress, and we called the men together, but they got between us and the arms. The cowards! they cut us down. The poor lads who were wounded too. All so sudden. In a few minutes it was all over. Father prisoner—half our men dead; rest locked in one of the lower rooms: and I crawled away—to lie down and die, I thought.”

“Why, it must have been after they had failed here,” muttered Mark.

“They did not see me; I was behind an over-turned table, and a curtain and chair over me. I could hear all they said. They sat and drank after they had dragged out four of our poor fellows, dead.”

“Then they sat and talked; I heard them. That captain said Cliff Castle would do as well as Black Tor, and they would stay there.”

“Ah!” panted Mark excitedly.

“And a great deal more. It meant that they’d taken the place, and I felt then that I must die. I don’t know how long they were there. It was hot and stifling, and there was smoke, and a man rushed in, and said the prisoners had escaped, and set fire to the place.”

Ralph shuddered and was silent, till Mark began bathing his face again, when he seemed to revive a little, and wandered on:

“Fire burned so fast—crawled out—through the window—Minnie’s fish-pool—castle burning so fast—father—Minnie—help!—oh help!”