Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 11: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Murkwood Spears crisp breeze flirted with his scarlet robe. The view he commanded swept down ma- jestically from all sides of the looming castle rock; almost sheer to the east and west, tremendously high and rugged to the south, the crag dominated the rolling Flamwell valley and tyrannized over its checkered, hut-dotted fields. The river embraced it in a horseshoe loop, a natural moat, except below the southern battle- ments. There the arrogant height of the rock and the well-made wall defied assault. Be- yond the twin turrets, a flat desolation extended for half a mile, strewn with black- ened stumps. Here the outer fringes of the Murkwood had reared their ancient trunks, till the Rotten Reiver had blotted them out with ax and flame lest they mask the ap- proach of an enemy. He had no enemies, save only Giles de Gislac; but the Rotten Reiver took no chances. Beyond the desolation lay the Murk- wood itself; a fine oak forest, God knows how great, and all Sir Richard’s. ‘“‘Aye, all mine!” he murmured comfort- ably. ‘‘All mine—fat red deer, brave ‘trees and nigh an hundred foresters!’ A WELL-MADE spearman passed ; him on his rounds and brought his m= Talpike to the salute. Nodding care- ieeely Sir Richard passed by, then suddenly swung about. “Alain!” he said in a voice both gentle and arrogant. The man-at-arms came to heel like a whipped dog, for all the reckless courage in his hard face. ““My lord?” he answered. “Send my Lord Geoffrey hither.” The soldier started off at a trot, his pike jogging absurdly over his shoulder. The Rotten Reiver continued his walk, but he no longer smiled. The thought of Geoffrey always disturbed his calm. Geoffrey alone stood between him and the full, unques- tioned possession of Monrepaire. The young man’s footsteps on the stones behind him brought him about. Sir Rich- ard turned in his stride with a strong, free swing and stretched out his hands. His fine eyes beamed with affection, which Geof- frey’s cordially returned. Indeed Geoffrey loved his uncle, having always received devoted tenderness from him. The Rotten Reiver had excellent control over his feelings. bs) They were an oddly assorted pair. The trim, cat-like beauty of the elder was dwarfed by the boy’s blond magnificence, by Geoffrey’s massive shoulders and depth of chest, by the proud carriage of the yellow- crowned head; but it did not seem dwarfed. Each, in his way, was a masterpiece, though the boy had inherited what Richard had not—the huge frame that went with the Monrepaire blood. Straight from old Fulk of the Red Hands, who came over with William the Conqueror, the men of Monrepaire drew their giant strength, their fierce hearts. They were fearless as eagles, savage as wolves. In exchange for old Fulk’s bulk, Richard had inherited all his terrible courage, directed by a shrewdness all his own. Geoffrey had blue eyes and a straight nose and a glance that never shifted. These with his yellow hair had come from his Saxon mother, who had been about as happy with old William as Saxon generally was when yoked to Norman. Since she was not made to bend, she had been broken and had the good luck to die young. The boy’s affection for his uncle bright- ened in a smile. He loved his guardian, never having been permitted to see the devil in him. “Ah, Geoffrey, Geoffrey!” Sir Richard rebuked him. “I never see you now unless I send for you. Not so many months ago you were glad to be with me. We have had good sport together, you and I. But now——” He stifled a sigh and spoke more cheer- fully: “A fair, brisk day, lad. Wilt go hawking with me?” The young man flushed self-consciously, scraping the flags with one foot. But his eyes looked steadily into his uncle’s. “Will you return before sunset?” he asked. Richard smiled. “I had hoped to try the Eddlesmere bank,” he answered. “There are herons in the reeds.” Casting his eyes down, he watched the boy covertly. “Then we should get back late,” Geoffrey objected. “Gladly would I go with you, but I must be back in time to ride out tonight.” A Sed light kindled in Richard’s eyes and died down at once. He was too wise to COmiclboook C©