St. George for England by G. A. Henty (best story books to read .txt) 📕

for the prince, who is the soul of generosity, will not haggle over terms, but will pay my ransom as soon as he hears into whose hands I have fallen, while there are scores of men-at-arms prisoners, whom he can exchange for you. Doubtless Sir Phillip will send you over, as soon as he arrives at his castle, with one of his own followers to treat for my ransom.”

After riding for some hours the troop halted their weary horses in a wood, and lighting fires, cooked their food, and then lay down until morning. Sir Phillip exchanged but few words with his captive; as, having removed his helm, he sat by the fire, Walter had an opportunity of seeing his countenance. It did not belie his reputation. His face had a heavy and brutal expression which was not decreased by the fashion of his hair, which was cut quite short, and stood up without parting all over his bullet-shaped head; he had a heavy and bristling moustache which was cut short in a line with his lips.

“It is well,” Walter thought to himself, “that it is my ransom rather than my life which is dear to that evil-looking knight; for, assuredly, he is not one to hesitate did fortune throw a foe into his hands.”

At daybreak the march was resumed, and was continued until they reached the castle of Sir Phillip Holbeaut, which stood on a narrow tongue of land formed by a sharp bend of the Somme.

On entering the castle the knight gave an order to his followers, and the prisoners were at once led to a narrow cell beneath one of the towers. Walter looked round indignantly when he arrived there.

“This is a dungeon for a felon,” he exclaimed, “not the apartment for a knight who has been taken captive in fair fight. Tell your master that he is bound to award me honourable treatment, and that unless he removes me instantly from this dungeon to a proper apartment, and treats me with all due respect and courtesy, I will, when I regain liberty, proclaim him a dishonoured knight.”

The men-at-arms made no reply; but, locking the door behind them, left the prisoners alone.

“What can this mean, Ralph?” Walter exclaimed. “We are in the lowest dungeon, and below the level of the river. See how damp are the walls, and the floor is thick with slimy mud. The river must run but just below that loophole, and in times of flood probably enters here.”

Phillip of Holbeaut, on dismounting, ascended to an upper chamber, where a man in the dress of a well-to-do citizen was sitting.

“Well, Sir Phillip,” he exclaimed, rising to his feet as the other entered, “what news?”

“The news is bad,” the knight growled. “This famous scheme of yours has cost me fifty of my best men. I would I had had nothing to do with it.”

“But this Walter Somers,” the other exclaimed, “what of him? He has not escaped surely! The force which marched from Amiens was large enough to have eaten him and his garrison.

“He has not escaped,” the knight replied.

“Then he is killed!” the other said eagerly.

“No; nor is he killed. He is at present a prisoner in a dungeon below, together with a stout knave whom he begged might accompany him until ransomed.”

“All is well then,” the other exclaimed. “Never mind the loss of your men. The money which I have promised you for this business will hire you two hundred such knaves; but why didst not knock him on head at once?”

“It was not so easy to knock him on the head,” Sir Phillip growled. “It cost us five hundred men to capture the outer walls, and to have fought our way into the keep, held, as it was, by men who would have contested every foot of the ground, was not a job for which any of us had much stomach, seeing what the first assaults had cost us; so the count took them all to quarter. The rest he carried with him to Amiens; but their leader, according to the promise which he made me, he handed over to me as my share of the day's booty, giving me every charge that he should receive good and knightly treatment.

“Which, no doubt, you will observe,” the other said, with an ugly laugh.

“It is a bad business,” the knight exclaimed angrily, “and were it not for our friendship, in Spain, and the memory of sundry deeds which we did together, not without profit to our purses, I would rather that you were thrown over the battlements into the river than I had taken a step in this business. However, none can say that Phillip of Holbeaut ever deserted a friend who had proved true to him, not to mention that the sum which you promised me for my aid in this matter will, at present time, prove wondrously convenient. Yet I foresee that it will bring me into trouble with the Count of Evreux. Ere many days a demand will come for the fellow to be delivered on ransom.”

“And what will you say?” the other asked.

“I shall say what is the truth,” the knight replied, “though I may add something that is not wholly so. I shall say that he was drowned in the Somme. I shall add that it happened as he was trying to make his escape, contrary to the parole he had given; but in truth he will be drowned in the dungeon in which I have placed him, which has rid me of many a troublesome prisoner before now. The river is at ordinary times but two feet below the loophole; and when its tide is swelled by rain it often rises above the sill, and then there is an end of any one within. They can doubt my word; but there are not many who would care to do so openly; none who would do so for the sake of an unknown English knight. And as for any complaints on the part of the Black Prince, King Phillip has shown over and over again how little the complaints of Edward himself move him.”

“It were almost better to knock him on head at once,” the other said thoughtfully; “the fellow has as many lives as a cat.

“If he had as many as nine cats,” the knight replied, “it would not avail him. But I will have no violence. The water will do your work as well as a poinard, and I will not have it said, even among such ruffians as mine, that I slew a captured knight. The other will pass as an accident, and I care not what my men may think as long as they can say nothing for a surety. The count may storm as much as he will, and may even lay a complaint against me before the king; but in times like the present, even a simple knight who can lead two hundred good fighting men into the field is not to be despised, and the king is likely to be easily satisfied with my replies to any question that may be raised. Indeed, it would seem contrary to reason that I should slay a captive against whom I have no cause of quarrel, and so forfeit the ransom which I should get for him.”

“But suppose that a messenger should come offering ransom before the river happens to rise?”

“Then I shall anticipate matters, and shall say that what I know will happen has already taken place. Do not be uneasy, Sir James. You have my