[CHAPTER IV—THE CHAMPION OF MOUNTJOY]
As Cedric of Pelham Wood rode with me into the courtyard, we met my father, the Lord of Mountjoy, coming from the stables. His favorite steed, a fine black stallion, Cæsar by name, did suffer from a sprain he had come by at the tournament at Winchester; and my father was much in fear would never again be fit to bear him in the lists or to the wars. We came forward but slowly; and Lord Mountjoy had ample time to note the mud-stained and foam-flecked sides of our mounts, the rents in my garments and the bloody scratches which the forest boughs had made on our faces. Truly, I fear I made but a sorry picture; and ’tis little wonder that a frown was on my father’s brow and a roughness in his voice as he called to me:
“How now, Sir Dickon! Hast thou ridden thy little mare through the Devil’s Brake and foundered her once for all? And who is this fellow in rags and shreds of Lincoln green that rides at thy side like a comrade? Methinks ’twere better if he kept his place, an ell or two behind.”
Cedric’s face grew red with wrath at these words; but I hastened to answer before he could make utterance.
“Hold, Father. This is Cedric, a forester of Pelham Wood, and our good and true friend. Twice or thrice this day hath he with his good cross-bow (of which he hath a skill like that of Old Marvin himself) saved me from death at the hands of the Carletons.”
“By my faith! Say’st thou so, my boy?” exclaimed Father, with a wondrous change of countenance. Then, turning to Cedric,
“Any who fights the Carleton wolves is a friend to all true Mountjoys. Come my lad, thy hand! And thy pardon if I did speak a thought rough, not knowing thy deserts. Wert thou sore beset? And did thy bolts make good men and quiet of some of those restless knaves?”
“Some of them, my lord, will ne’er again rob an honest farmer of his stores or burn a woodman’s cottage,” said Cedric with a smile.
“By’r Lady! Thou’rt a man, and shall be a Mountjoy, if guerdon can keep thee,” cried my father. “But hold! Give thy mounts to the grooms, and come to the hall. ’Tis ill talking with an empty stomach and a dry throttle. And I’ll warrant you’re famished, both. There’s a hot pasty and somewhat else to be found, I’ll be bound. You shall tell me of this day’s work by the board and the fire.”
In the hall we were greeted by my lady mother, who had heard somewhat of that which passed in the courtyard. Cedric doffed his cap when I presented him to her ladyship, and bowed with a grace I looked not for. And she did ask most eagerly if aught of harm had come to either of us. Being assured that we were yet whole of skin save for the woodland boughs, she brought with her own hands a bench before the fire, and bade Cedric sit as she might have bidden any knight or courtier who visited the hall of Mountjoy. Then she hurried out and bade the maids bring meat and drink of the best for our refreshment.