Cedric, the Forester

by Bernard Gay Marshall

Three days later, on another perfect morn without cloud or breath of wind, there assembled in Yew Hedge Meadow, a furlong from the Mountjoy gate, a concourse which might have graced a tournament. The Pelhams were there and the Leicesters and even a half dozen of the Montmorencys, my mother’s kin from Coventry. The yeomanry of the Mountjoy lands had come, e’en to the last man and maid and child, and nigh two hundred of the neighbor folk from Pelham Manor, Leicester and Mannerley. The gentry were gathered on some rows of benches, covered with gay-colored robes, which had been placed on a little hillock at the left; and the commoners stood or walked about on the good brown sward, having many a gay crack and jest between them, and enjoying, methought, a better view of the archery than their betters on the higher ground.

Many of the Mountjoy men had brought their cross-bows; and were now taking random shots at the white-centered target, a hundred paces down the meadow. Others had long-bows and the cloth-yard shafts that the forester loves. When Cedric’s father, Elbert of Pelham Wood, came on the ground with his long-bow in his hand a cry went up for a match with that noble weapon to come before the prize shooting of the cross-bow men.

My father came and full warmly greeted the Pelham forester, and gave his word for the long-bow trials. Two of our Mountjoy lads shot each five shafts at the three-inch bull’s-eye; and of these Rob of the Rowan Grange was in high delight at thrice fairly striking it. Then Elbert, with a merry grin that showed his toothless jaws, did come to the mark and sent five arrows toward the target, suffering none to touch them till the last was sped. When he had finished there was a shout from all the people, with Rob o’ the Rowan’s voice among the loudest, for every arrow point had pierced the white.

Now came Marvin, bonnet in hand, before Lord Mountjoy; and began to speak with a quickness and a shortness of breath that I had ne’er before noted.

“My lord, methinks ’twould better the match for those that come to see our archery if we had, besides yonder target, a moving mark. What think’st thou of the rolling ball such as I used a score of years agone, and with which thyself did have much good sport?”

“Marry! Well bethought, good Marvin!” cried Father. “Have the lads bring planks from the courtyard and set up the trough as thou bid’st them. We have bowling balls enough. Truly, ’twill make the match a gayer sight. There are many here that never have seen thy skill so displayed.”

THEN ELBERT DID COME TO THE MARK AND, WITH A MERRY GRIN, SENT FIVE ARROWS TOWARD THE TARGET

Marvin turned away full eagerly to give orders for the making of the slanting trough of planks down which the bowling ball should roll; and as I saw the light in his eyes my heart did warm toward our faithful and stout-hearted old follower that he should devise this play to save his archer fame. For plain it was to me that my father had been well pleased at this thought of Marvin’s, believing that in this game which was his very own, and practiced by none beyond the lands of Mountjoy, he would display such mastery as would far outweigh any vantage that young Cedric might gain at the bull’s-eye shooting.

Many hands made light work of the making ready. Soon a trough of planks went up to one side of the arrow course, and eighty yards from the mark at which the archers stood. One end was raised four yards from the earth on a scaffolding on which a lad might climb to place the bowling balls in groove. When, at the word, he rolled one from him, it dashed down the slope and rolled and bounded o’er the sod for thirty paces, full like a hare started from his covert by the hunters. To strike this ball in full career with cross-bow bolt was no child’s play. To this could I well swear, for never yet had I succeeded in doing so, when, two years agone, Old Marvin had sought to teach me. As I recalled my many bootless trials, I laughed to think of Cedric and the game Old Marvin now had played on him.