Cedric, the Forester

by Bernard Gay Marshall

Cedric was gazing at Lord Mountjoy, and quietly awaiting his word, while my lady mother glanced quickly from one to another of us. When my father began to speak it was slowly and soberly enough.

“Not quite so fast, Sir Dickon. There’s many a thought to be taken yet anent thy knightly training. But now it comes to me that Cedric here e’en must remain at Mountjoy for some months at least, if he would guard his life and limb. After this day’s work, should any of the Carleton men come upon him at a vantage, his shrift would be short and no prayers said.”

So was it settled that Cedric should remain with us of Mountjoy. The next day a messenger was despatched to Elbert, the forester, with the news of his son’s brave deeds and his present safety. I lost no time in beginning his training for sword-play; and he showed himself the best of learners. Within a week, moreover, he had shown to me some tricks of the cross-bow of which I had never heard, and fairly ’mazed our men with the marks he struck at a hundred paces distance. Already we planned a match ’twixt Cedric and Old Marvin which should be a fête-day for all the friends of Mountjoy.

Then came a messenger from Shrewsbury, where for the time the King made his seat, bearing a scroll addressed to my father and sealed with the sign royal. Father read it slowly to himself as he stood with his back to the fire in the hall and the King’s messenger was quaffing a cup of wine in the courtyard. My mother and I waited eagerly to hear its contents. Cedric sat in a farther corner, saying over to himself the names of the great letters which my mother had made for him on a sheet of parchment.

’Twas plain to see that the message was not to my father’s liking, for he scowled fearsomely as he conned the words. Suddenly he began reading it in a loud and wrathful voice; and Cedric dropped his parchment to listen.

“To Robert, Lord of Mountjoy and Knight of the Holy Sepulcher, from Henry, King of England, Duke of Normandy and Lord of Anjou, Acquitaine, and Gascony, Greeting.

“Know thou that there hath appeared before our Court at Shrewsbury, Elizabeth, Lady of Carleton and Teramore, and relict of Geoffrey, Lord of Carleton, deceased, who hath, on oath, made complaint against thee, thy minor son, Richard and a certain yeoman of Pelham Forest, Cedric, son of Elbert, and now harbored by thee at Mountjoy, as follows:

“That, on Saturday, of October the twenty-second day, thy son Richard did ride in the forests of Teramore without lawful right and leave from the holders thereof; that Lionel of Carleton, son of Geoffrey and Elizabeth of Carleton aforesaid, did meet with him and order him to leave those lands and return not; that thy son Richard did then and there attack Lionel of Carleton; and while they did fight, the yeoman, Cedric, being a servitor and confederate of Richard of Mountjoy did most foully slay Lionel of Carleton by a mortal weapon, to wit, a cross-bow bolt discharged from a point of hiding; that the servitors of Carleton did pursue and endeavor to arrest Richard of Mountjoy and the yeoman, Cedric, the which they did resist with force and arms, and that the aforesaid Cedric did again from hiding strike down and kill two of the Carleton retainers, so that he and thy son, Richard, did make their way to the Castle of Mountjoy where thou hast since harbored and protected them.

“Now therefore, know that it is my will that thou repair to our Court at Shrewsbury, bringing with thee thy son Richard and the yeoman, Cedric, and with not more than ten of thy retainers or men-at-arms, that fair trial of this cause may be had before our presence, on Thursday, of November the second day, at ten of the clock.

“And be thou here solemnly charged and commanded to desist from all violence and quarrel against the family of Elizabeth of Carleton or any of her servants and retainers, and to cause all thy family, thy servants and retainers to likewise refrain.

“Given under our hand and seal, this thirty-first day of October.

“Henry (Rex).”

“Henry (Rex).”

When the reading was finished we were silent for a space, my father pacing back and forth with roughened brow, and Mother gazing anxiously upon him. At last he turned and said:

“We must to Shrewsbury. ’Tis the King’s command; and the Mountjoys have ever been loyal vassals, as none know better than the King himself. What say’st thou, Richard? Canst thou tell in open court the tale of that day’s work even as we heard it here?”

“That I can, Father,” I replied, “’tis the truth, and I care not who hears it.”