Cedric, the Forester

by Bernard Gay Marshall

Lord Mountjoy had risen and now stamped back and forth.

“Ne’er abrogated, forsooth! But it well should be. This is no law or custom for the descendants of the nobles that landed with William the Conqueror. ’Tis of a piece with the insolence of the churls on Grimsby’s lands, who would have a magistrate of their own choosing forsooth, to try their causes withal—reaching up to snatch the reins of governing from their lawful masters. What do such clowns know of law or governing? When did ever such make shift to guide or protect a state?”

“Those same chronicles, my lord, of which you spoke but now, tell us of a republic of Rome, where commoners ruled the city, and that that city grew so great in power as to rule half the world and more.”

My father gazed grimly at the youth who dared thus to question his wisdom; but for the moment he had naught to say, and Lady Mountjoy seized the chance to exclaim:

“Oh! in those chronicles there is a bonny tale of the saving of the city by the voice of geese. I will fetch them and read it you.”

Lord Mountjoy, not thus to be put aside, made an impatient gesture, and was about to take up again the argument when a knock was heard on the door of the hall, and a maid announced that Old Marvin, the archer, craved speech with Lord Mountjoy. Glad enough was I to see him admitted, for this quarrel that had flamed up so suddenly between my father and my friend and squire was a bitter thing to me and to my lady mother. More than once had Cedric saved my life in battle and skirmish; and Lord Mountjoy himself had stood forth as his champion when King Henry condemned Cedric to be hanged for the killing in fair fight of young Lionel of Carleton. Of all the Mountjoy retainers, Cedric had the steadiest hand and the clearest head. I had often prophesied that unless I rose in honors and preferment faster than I could rightly expect, I should not long be able to retain such a youth as a simple squire. But now I seemed like to lose him before ever my spurs had been won and he to part from us in bitterness.

As Cedric was the most valued among the younger retainers of our house, so was old Marvin, the cross-bow man, among the elders who had followed first my grandfather, then my father to the wars. His wondrous skill with his weapon had done yeoman service on many a field, and finally had struck down the old Gray Wolf, Lord Carleton in the midst of the desperate assault he made on the walls of Mountjoy. For two years now Marvin and his good wife had enjoyed the cottage and six acres of the Millfield, where we hoped he might have many years of peace as some measure of requital for a lifetime of toil and danger. ’Twas not likely that Lord Mountjoy, in the angry mood of the moment, would have admitted any other of his followers; but Marvin was a man of honor and privilege in Mountjoy Hall.

As soon as Marvin had entered, my mother rose and, calling Cedric to her, found some duty upon which to employ him, so that he left the hall, and was seen no more till late at night. Meanwhile the old archer had explained to us that a message had just come to him from his brother who was a forester on the lands of Lord Morton, a day’s journey to the north. Marvin had not seen his brother for twenty years; and when last they parted it was in some coldness; but now the other, who was a few years older than Marvin, was lying sick in his cottage at Morton, and asked his brother to come to him that they might be reconciled ere he died. He offered, if Marvin would come and stay with him to the end, to settle upon him as his heir any goods or savings he might have. Marvin now craved leave to join a merchants’ caravan which was just setting forth in that direction, that he might comply with his brother’s last request.

On hearing Marvin through, my father instantly gave his leave, and ordered furthermore that a good horse from the Mountjoy stables be placed at his disposal. Thereupon our faithful old retainer bade us a hasty good-by, for the caravan was already on the road; and we wished him a safe return.

My mother and I did hope and plan that Lord Mountjoy might easily forget the dispute he had with Cedric; and to that end found means to keep Cedric busily employed through the following morning; and at the midday meal did turn the talk toward the great tournament that was soon to be held at Shrewsbury. But some Imp of Mischief had his way at last, for at mid-afternoon my father entered the hall and found Cedric by the fireside, deep in the great book of chronicles. This was enough to bring to mind the heresies that Cedric had found therein; and in a moment all the anger of the day before flamed up again. Soon Lord Mountjoy was shouting in his wrath, declaring that the nation went to the dogs where curs and clowns were not duly subject to their lawful masters, and that if Cedric would mend his fortunes, he must first cast out such folly from his mind. Cedric replied, in lower tones indeed, but by no means meekly, upholding what he called the rights of English freemen to household and to peaceable assembly and to trial, when accused, by juries of their peers. At last my father checked his speaking, and said slowly and in cold anger: