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قراءة كتاب The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First
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The Black Tor: A Tale of the Reign of James the First
boy’s look of perplexity and disgust, as, after a few moments’ hesitation, he began to lead the way toward the half castle, half manor-house, which crowned the great limestone cliff.
“Surely,” he thought, “my father cannot wish to see such a ragamuffin as this, with his coarse, bloated features, and disgraceful rags and dirt.”
But the next minute his thoughts took a different turn.
“If what the man says be true, father will be only too glad to help an old brother-officer in misfortune, and be sorry to see him in such a plight.”
With the frank generosity of youth, then, he softened his manner toward his companion, as they slowly climbed upward, the great beeches which grew out of the huge cracks and faults of the cliff shading them from the sun.
“So this is the way?” cried the man.
“Yes: the castle is up there,” and Ralph pointed.
“What! in ruins?” cried the captain.
“Ruins? No!” cried Ralph. “Those stones are natural; the top of the cliff. Our place is behind them. They do look like ruins, though.”
“Hah! But what an eagle’s nest. No wonder I find an eaglet on my way.”
Ralph winced, for the man clapped a dirty hand upon his shoulder, and gripped him fast, turning the lad into a walking-staff to help him on his road.
“Have you come far this morning?” said Ralph, to conceal his disgust.
“Ay, miles and miles, over stones and streams, and in and out among mines and holes. We were benighted, too, up yonder on the mountain.”
“Hill,” said Ralph; “we have no mountains here.”
“Hills when you’re fresh, lad; mountains when you’re footsore and weary. But we stumbled upon a niche, in a bit of a slope near the top, and turned out the bats and foxes, and slept there.”
“Where?” cried Ralph quickly. “Was there a little stream running there—warm water?”
“To be sure there was. Hard stones, and warm water: those were our bed and beverage last night.”
“I know the place. Darch Scarr.”
“Fine scar, too, lad. Been better if it had been healed up, with a door to keep out the cold wind. Oh! so this is where my old comrade lives,” he added, as he came in sight of an arched gateway, with embattled top and turrets, while through the entry, a tree-shaded courtyard could be seen. “And a right good dwelling too. Come on, brave boys. Here’s rest and breakfast at last.”
“And I hope you’ll go directly after,” thought Ralph, as he led the way into the courtyard, and paused at a second entrance, at the top of a flight of stone steps, well commanded by loopholes on either side. Then aloud:
“Will you wait here a minute, while I go and tell my father?”
“Yes: tell him his old brother-officer is here.”
“I did not catch your name when you spoke before,” said Ralph. “Captain Pearl Ross?”
“Nay, nay, boy; Purlrose. He’ll know directly you speak. Tell him, I’m waiting to grasp him by the hand.”
Ralph nodded, and sprang up the stone flight, while the visitor’s companions threw themselves down upon the steps to rest, their leader remaining standing, and placing himself by the mounting stone on one side, hand upon sword-hilt, and arranging his ragged cloak in folds with as much care as if it had been of newest velvet.
Chapter Two.
Sir Morton receives his Guest.
“Father can’t be pleased,” thought the lad, as he hurried in through a heavy oaken door, strengthened by the twisted and scrolled iron bands of the huge hinges, and studded with great-headed nails. This yielded heavily, as, seizing a ring which moved a lever, he raised the heavy latch, and for a moment, as he passed through, he hesitated about closing the door again upon the group below. But as he glanced at the party, he hesitated no longer. Their appearance begat no confidence, and the great latch clicked directly.
The next minute, he was hurrying along a dark stone passage, to spring up a few more stairs, leading into a corridor with a polished oaken floor, and mullioned windows looking down upon the courtyard; and as he reached the second, a bright, handsome girl, whose features proclaimed sisterhood, started out to meet him.
“Oh Ralph,” she said, “who are those dreadful-looking men you have brought up?”
“Don’t stop me, Min,” he said hastily. “Old soldiers who want to see father. Where is he?”
“In his room.”
The lad hurried on, and entered through a door way on his left, to where, in an oaken-panelled room, a stern, slightly grey, military-looking man sat poring over an old book, but looked up directly the lad entered.
“Ah, Ralph, boy,” he said; “been out?”
“Only on the cliff, father,” cried the lad hastily. “Visitors.”
“Visitors? Nonsense! I expect no visitors. Who are they?”
“Captain Purlrose and his men.”
“Purlrose!” cried Sir Morton, with a look of angry disgust. “Here?”
“Yes, father,” said Ralph, watching keenly the impression made by his words. “Waiting at the foot of the steps.”
“Bah! I thought the drunken, bullying scoundrel was dead and gone years ago. Hung or shot, for he deserved either.”
“Hah!” ejaculated the lad, with a sigh of relief. “Then you are not glad to see him, father?”
“Glad to see him? Are you mad, boy?”
“No, father,” said the lad, with a merry laugh. “I hope not; but he said you would be, and that you were old brothers-in-arms, and that he longed to grip you by the hand; and he tried to hug me, and shed tears, and flattered me, and said all sorts of things.”
“Pah! the same as of old; but you said—and his men.”
“Yes, about a dozen like him; ruffianly-looking, rag-bags of fellows, all armed, and looking like a gang of bullies and robbers.”
Sir Morton frowned, rose from his seat, and walked to the side of the room, where his sword and belt lay in front of a bookcase.
“Well, I suppose I must see the fellow. He served under me, years ago, Ralph, and I suppose he has come begging, unless he sees a chance to steal.”
“Then I was not unjust, father, in thinking ill of the man and disliking him.”
“Unjust? Pah! The fellow was a disgrace to the name of soldier; and now, I suppose, that there is no war on the way, he has been discharged from the king’s service, with a pack of his companions.”
“He said he had saved your life, father.”
Sir Morton laughed contemptuously. “I have no recollection of the fact, Ralph, boy, and I don’t think I should have forgotten so important a matter; but I do recollect saving his, by interceding when he was about to be shot for plundering some helpless people. There; let him and a couple of his men come in. The poor wretch is in a bad state, I suppose, and I will give him something to help him on his road.”
Ralph went to the door, but turned back, hesitating.
“Well, my boy?” said his father.
“Had I not better tell some of the men to arm, and be ready?” asked the lad.
“What! Nonsense, boy! I know my man. He would not dare to be insolent.”
“But he has a dangerous-looking gang of fellows with him.”
“Of the same kind as himself, Ralph. Have no fear of that. If there were real danger, we could soon summon a dozen stout men to deal with him and his party. But, as I said, let him only bring in two or three with him.”
Ralph hurried out, and found the captain and his men forming a picturesque group about the stone steps; and as soon as he appeared, the former swung himself round, and threw his cloak over his shoulder, with a swaggering gesture.
“Hallo, my young eagle,” he cried. “What saith the parent bird, the gallant lord of the castle?”
“My father will see you, sir,” replied Ralph. “This way.”
“Aha! I