“’Tis e’en as I thought. The Monkslayer hath his fastness in a wide cavern at the head of yonder gully. There is no approach save by that winding path you saw where half a dozen men might well stop a thousand. He thinks to guard my Lady Carleton there until her ransom be paid. And whether even then he will let her go unharmed we know not.”
Sir Geoffrey ground his teeth in rage.
“Hast thou any plan?” I asked of Cedric.
“Aye,” he replied, “though ’tis something ticklish; and if it fail, ’twill be an ill chance indeed.”
“Say on, Cedric,” said Geoffrey, eagerly.
“This is my thought,” said Cedric, “we have till to-morrow’s sunrise before any harm shall befall thy lady mother. Now, it would be disastrous to attack the fastness openly; but it may be that with two score of swordsmen, creeping on them just before the dawn, we can take them by surprise. Your archer is all at disadvantage in fighting at arm’s length; and if such a force can reach the cavern’s mouth, I warrant we snatch away the prisoners almost before they are aware. The cave is broad but not deep. I remember it full well. There is no room in it for hiding.”
“But Cedric!” I cried, “how shall we reach the cave’s mouth without alarm? Hast thou forgotten the two sentries in the lower pathway?”
Cedric smiled broadly.
“And hast thou forgotten, Sir Dickon, the oak tree from which we spied them but now? Old Marvin and I together shall care for the sentries.”
I drew a deep breath as I caught the full working of his plan. “Cedric,” I said, “thou wilt never remain a simple squire. Thou hast a head as well as an arm. The King hath need for such in many places of trust.”