Cedric, the Forester

by Bernard Gay Marshall

“’Tis one that’s something dangerous, forsooth,” replied my friend, “and I doubt much whether our elderly and prudent leaders would approve it.”

“Say no more, for Mountjoy is with thee to the hilt. What followers shall I bring, and with what arms?”

“A dozen lusty swordsmen—men still young and light on the feet and with heads to understand a stratagem. Dickon and John o’ the Wallfield and Elbert the Smith are the right sort. See that every man wears beneath his outer garment a coat of linked mail and carries a sword no longer than his arm. Within the hour I will meet thee at the beech wood thou knowest to the south of the town; and will bring a like number of the men of Grimsby. We shall ride hard and far; so look to it, I pray thee, that thy men be well mounted. We may have cause for speed on the homeward road.”

An hour later, with four and twenty proper men, Cedric and I rode out of the beech wood, and took the high road toward the south, where, but five or six leagues away, the castles and most of the towns were still in the hands of the King’s mercenaries. I knew full well that the quest on which we were embarked was one that meant our cause’s advancement, and would have willingly trusted Cedric for the rest; but now we drew ahead of our horsemen, and he explained full clearly his design. ’Twas such a plan as only Cedric would have formed, and its outcome in truth, exceeding dubious; but we were comrades of old in many a venture that would have been refused by prudent men; and now he had no labor in convincing me that this was worth the trial.

After an hour’s riding, we came to a thick wood, and turned aside in this into a little glade where we halted to rest our mounts and to bring about a most surprising change in our appareling. At a word from Cedric, each of the Grimsby men proceeded to withdraw from his saddle bags some garments which, being unfolded, appeared as the long gray cloaks and hoods of palmers. Each, it seemed, had brought a costume for himself and for one of the Mountjoy men; and now, in less time than the telling takes, we had all laid aside among the bracken any headwear or other dress that might not properly consort with these, and stood forth as a body of pilgrims in the dress that marked those who had accomplished the toilsome journey to the Holy Land. Soon we were on the road again, and, save for now and again the rattle of a sword hilt or a robust, laughing word, might not have been distinguished from a cavalcade of devout returning pilgrims such as were not uncommon on our roads.

Without mishap we pursued our way into a region where all the points of vantage were held by our enemies; and where armed parties, far too strong for our gainsaying, patrolled the roads or watched them from the hilltops. In the late afternoon we came within sight of the Castle of Moberley which was held for the King by Sir John Champney with a hundred lances and six score cross-bowmen.

On the left, and but half a mile from the castle, lay the Abbey where William De Bellair, favorite of the King, renegade cleric and forsworn Crusader, held usurping sway over the monks and lay brethren and the fields and vineyards that had been the rightful domain of our associate at Stamford whom we still greeted as the Abbot of Moberley.

At a like distance from Moberley Castle was a fork in the road just beyond a timbered bridge o’er a stream. There the left-hand track led to the Abbey and that on the right went straight to the castle gates. At the full trot we took the former turning, and soon were calling for admittance at the Abbey doors.

This, to a devoted band of pilgrims, was not long denied. The gates were thrown ajar, and, leaving two trusty fellows to care for the horses in the outer courtyard, we passed into the refection hall of the monastery to pay our respects to this venerable seat of piety and learning. Our worthy palmers scattered themselves about the great room with its low timbered ceiling and mighty fireplace, and engaged in talk with the monks or in reverent examining of the painted series on the walls, the work of an earnest though not too highly skilled lay brother, and setting forth the story of Joseph and his brethren.

After a little, Sir Cedric, acting as our leader, sent word to the Abbot whom we had not yet seen, that here was a group of a score and more of palmers who now paid their first visit to the far-renowned Abbey of Moberley and who wished to have speech with the reverend master of the house ere they departed. This message, with its accompanying compliments, accomplished its intent; and soon William De Bellair, in all the robes of his office, entered the hall from an inner door and seated himself in his great chair on the dais.