Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them some semblance of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam.First the sumpter beasts, all loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downs below the castle and there held to await the column.Then, one by one, the companies were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon and waving banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet.
Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction which hurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls of beleaguered castles.
And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and the little old man walked side by side from the castle building and mounted their chargers held by two squires in the center of the courtyard.
Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and as the two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman of Torn, saying,"I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son.Father Claude sent word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, and that some appointment you had with him must therefore be deferred until later.He said that you would understand." The old man eyed his companion narrowly through the eye slit in his helm.
"'Tis passing strange," said Norman of Torn but that was his only comment.
And so they joined the column which moved slowly down toward the valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman of Torn saw that the door was closed and that there was no sign of life about the place.A wave of melancholy passed over him, for the deserted aspect of the little flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of a near future without the beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser.
Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge of the valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the south by another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drew rein before the cottage of Father Claude.
As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter the building.
"Have a care, My Lord," cried his companion."This be over-close to the Castle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in the message which called thee thither.""Fear not," replied Simon de Montfort, "the Devil of Torn hath no quarrel with me." Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on the door.
Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dim light of the interior.There he found his host, the good father Claude, stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robes dark with dried and clotted blood.
Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of his companions.
"The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burden for a man to carry," he said."But this convinces me more than any words the priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, and possibly Prince Richard also."A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransacked thoroughly by the assassin.The contents of drawer and box littered every room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced by many pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched.
"The true object lies here," said De Montfort, pointing to the open hearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents."All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth here beneath the table ?" and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked up a sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced.It was addressed to him, and he read it aloud:
Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of our meeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not either its contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein.
He who bareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost Prince Richard.
Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be as positive as I.
Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know the wondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call ---Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of the assassin.
"Mon Dieu ! The damnable luck !" cried De Montfort, "but a second more and the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ.Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiend incarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart of Lady Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames ? The Devil himself must watch o'er him.
"There be naught more we can do here," he continued."I should have been on my way to Fletching hours since.Come, my gentlemen, we will ride south by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to the decent burial of this holy man."The party mounted and rode rapidly away.Noon found them at Leicester, and three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching.
At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performed the last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claude and consigned his clay to the churchyard.
And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeance which had been born in the King's armory twenty years before passed from the eyes of men.