How exciting it seemed to him as the horse's iron shoes clanked over the drawbridge, and he heard the massive chains grating over the wheels as it was drawn up again. He rode out into the misty night, and turned his horse's head southward.
This was the first time in his life he had gone forth on a service of danger fully armed and prepared to face a foe. There was something thrillingly exciting in this night adventure alone with the Captain of the Wight. What could it mean? What danger could there be? And why, if there were any, should he, the lord of the island, go forth attended but by one esquire to affront it alone? The delight of uncertainty and mystery hung round the future, and heightened still more the glory of being the only sharer in his Captain's peril. Ralph felt he could dare anything in the presence and on behalf of such a master.
He had now reached a lonely part of the rough track which had been his road on the night when he was so nearly being dashed to pieces over the edge of that cliff. Ralph had not visited the place since, and the whole adventure seemed more than ever like a dream. As he recalled the circumstances, his thoughts reverted to the tournament, and as he thought, he suddenly recollected the curious episode of the little glove. He had never before dreamt of connecting the wearing of that glove with his success in the tilt. It now all came before him, and he pondered deeply on the strange circumstance. While thus lost in thought, he did not notice the distant sound of a horse's hoofs, and was abruptly recalled to life by seeing a steel-clad figure gleaming in the moonlight coming steadily towards him.
With the prompt action of one well trained in the skill of a man-at-arms, Ralph grasped his lance, which he had hitherto been carrying slung behind him, and placed it in rest, holding his horse in readiness to charge, and wheeling him round so as to face the newcomer, for he could not tell whether he were friend or foe.
But in another moment he brought his lance to its erect position again, and saluted his lord. It was the Captain of the Wight. He was fully armed, and wore a tilting helmet, but perfectly plain, only a little ribbon fluttered in the breeze from the spike on the crown of the helm. He looked a splendid figure of knightly grace and strength, as he sat with perfect seat his powerful horse. Round his gorget was suspended his shield, but there was no blazon on it, and he wore no tabard or surcoat over his magnificent suit of ribbed Milanese armour. The light of the moon gleamed on his steel helmet, his globular corslet, and the taces cuisses, or thigh pieces, and steel jambs which protected his legs. He carried his long lance slung from his right arm, and the butt resting in a socket at his right stirrup.
"Well met, Master Lisle," called out Lord Woodville through his closed helm. "Thou art true to tryst; 'tis a fair promise of thy worth. But haste we onward. I would be loth to be last in the field."
Wheeling his horse round, Ralph rode after his lord, keeping at a respectful distance. In this way they rode for some three miles, when the Lord Woodville called to Ralph to come up.
"My son," he said gravely, "I have sure trust in thee, as I have told thee before; that is why I have brought thee with me. As no man knoweth what may be in store for him, I have left on my table, in a casket of wrought metal, a missive. In case aught should befall me, thou wilt ride back, and have a care to take that casket with the missive to Appuldurcombe Nunnery, and leave it for Sister Agnes. Thou comprehendest perfectly? But whatever befalls, bear in mind that no word of what I have told thee get to other ears."
Ralph promised obedience, and they once more lapsed into silence.
After riding steadily for some two miles more, Lord Woodville left the beaten track, and descending a steep slope in the downs, from which the open sea was visible in all its sparkling beauty, he rode along a secluded dell towards the bold height of St Catherine's down. Having reached an old withered thorn-bush which grew in weird loneliness by the sedgy bank of a little stream, the Captain of the Wight halted.