The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First by George Manville Fenn (classic romance novels .TXT) 📕

There had been plenty going on in Mark’s absence of an hour or two, and as soon as he had seen the recruits to their little force settled down in the hall to rest and refresh, he hastened up to Master Rayburn to find how his patient was going on. “Badly, Mark, boy,” said the old man; “very badly. He has been wounded in the mind as well as body. The best remedy for him will be the knowledge that his father and sister are safe. Well, what fortune in your mission?”

“That’s good in two ways,” he said, as soon as he had heard Mark’s account; “strengthens your hands, and sounds as if the people are getting as wise as their masters.”

Mark did not wish to discuss that subject, for it was irksome to him at a time when he felt that he did not know whether the Darleys and he were enemies or friends, his thoughts going toward the former as being the more natural in connection with the past.

Under these circumstances, he hurried away, descended, and found his father superintending the repair of the gate which defended the castle by the bridge. The piping times of peace had caused carelessness, and this gate had been so neglected that Purlrose and his men had had no difficulty in levering it off the pivots, and gaining an entrance.

Sir Edward was determined not to be caught sleeping again, for sentinels had been posted, and various means taken for strengthening the place. As for the damage to the great doors of the hall, these had already been covered with stout boarding, and missiles in the shape of heavy stones and pigs of lead were piled up on the platform of each tower.

Under Dan Rugg’s supervision, arquebuses had been cleaned and placed ready for use, and a couple of small cannon trained where they could sweep the approach to the bridge, and in turn the gateways leading into the outer and inner courts.

Sir Edward expressed himself as being highly pleased with his son’s success; and, treating him in this emergency as if he were a man, he joined him in the little council of war that was held with Dan Rugg. In this the best way of proceeding was discussed, and it was determined that instead of waiting for the darkness, the attacking party should set off early in the evening.

For old Dan had said: “It’s no use to think of trying to surprise them now, master; they’ll be well on the look out for us, and have men ready. Means a sharp bit of fighting to get up to the hole yonder, but once we get there, the powder will fight for us.”

“You mean to fire some at the entrance?” said Mark.

“Ay, Master Mark; that’s it, and then send another bag in before us, and fire that, and go on doing it till we’ve either blasted ’em all out of the place or made ’em so sick and sorry that they’ll cry surrender.”

The hours glided by, as it seemed to Mark, very slowly, till the time appointed for starting approached; and, after a final glance at Ralph, he was coming down, when Master Rayburn followed him.

“I should like to come with you, Mark, my boy,” he said gravely, “but my place is here. Heaven grant that you may be successful; and if you are,” he said meaningly, “there will be peace in our vale.”

Mark pressed his hand, buckled on his sword, and went down into the yard to join his father, who was giving final instructions to the wounded men about keeping the gates fast during their absence, not that an attack was expected, but “to make assurance doubly sure.”

While he was giving his last instructions, Dummy came running over the bridge, and trotted up to Sir Edward.

“Well, boy, could you see anything?”

“Yes,” replied Dummy, with a sharp nod of the head. “You can see two, if you go far enough, one on each side of the hill, keeping a look out.”

“Did they see you?”

“Nay, I was a-creeping among the bushes.”

“Then it is of no use to try and get up unobserved, Mark,” said Sir Edward, quietly. “It must be a bold open attack.”

He turned and said a few words to Sir Morton Darley’s men, Nick and the rest, after having had their injuries tended, and a few hours’ rest and refreshment, looking far better prepared for the encounter, and falling into their places with sullen determination.

Mark, at a word from his father, marched up alongside of Nick Garth, who gave him a surly nod, and seemed to be about to speak, but checked himself, and then let his curiosity master him.

“What ha’ they got in them baskets?” he said, nodding to a couple strung from poles, and each hanging from two men’s shoulders, “bread and cheese?”

“No: blasting-powder.”

“Eh? What for?” said the man, staring.

“Blow out the cavern,” said Mark quietly.

The man uttered a low long whistle, and then a grim smile covered his face.

“Hah!” he whispered, “that does a man good, young Eden! I was coming, and I meant to fight till I dropped; but after what we tried to do, I knew they’d be too many for us; but I begin to see my way now.”

“Yes, they don’t like the powder,” said Mark. “We made them run with it when they attacked us here.”

“What, did they ’tack you here?”

“Yes, and were beaten off, and came down to you.”

“Well, it wasn’t very neighbourly to send ’em down to us,” said the man sourly.

“You should have beaten them off, and sent them back again,” said Mark, smiling.

Then the order to march came, and the little band of sturdy men went off at a solemn tramp, Dummy carrying a couple of lanterns and a box slung from his shoulder, well supplied with torches, candles, and slow match, for the powder which it did not fall to his lot to bear.

As they passed over the bridge, the wounded men clanged to the gates, and two of them took their places on the tower above, while, as the party tramped across and turned to descend the zigzag, a thought came to Mark, and he turned back to glance at the window of his bed-chamber, as he wished that Ralph Darley were uninjured and marching by his side to help in the rescue of his father and sister.

There were two faces at the casement: those of Mary and Master Rayburn; and as the lad descended the slope they waved their hands to him. The next minute the cliff-side hid them from view.

The march in the calm bright evening was uneventful. Everything was so beautiful that it seemed hard to realise the horrors which had taken place during the past night, till Mark looked to right or left, and saw the bandages of several of the men. Nick Garth, too, was limping, but he resolutely kept on declaring that it was nothing to mind.

The Steeple Stone was left to the right, for there was this time no party of allies to meet; and very soon the great heavy mass of barren rocky hill loomed up before them, higher and higher, till the party were out from among the trees which had so far concealed their march, and proof was soon given that they were observed.

For all at once something was seen to be in motion, and Dummy shouted:

“There: I told you so!”

At the distance they then were, the object seen might have been a sheep or goat, slowly moving up the higher part of the mountain; but before long it stood out on the ridge, clear against the golden evening sky, plainly enough now a man.

Mark judged that after watching them the sentinel waved his hand to some one below, for the movement was seen, and a few minutes later another, and again another figure came up to stand clearly marked against the sky; and after a time all descended, their course being tracked down the barren hill face, till they disappeared, without doubt, in through the mouth of the cavern.

“Preparing a warm reception for us, Mark, my lad,” said Sir Edward, advancing to his son’s side; “but we shall be able to give them one equally warm. Well, my man, how are the wounds? Would you like to have ten minutes’ halt?”

Nick, to whom this was addressed, showed his teeth in a peculiar smile.

“When we’ve done our work, master; not before. Dessay we shall be ’bliged to wait before we get in.”

“I hope not,” said Sir Edward. “I mean for us to make a bold rush.”

“That’s right, master,” said the man, whose fellows