Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

IO hear the ripple of the Sollett, fed by a dozen brooks of the forest, winding pleasantly in its deep-cut reedy bed. The white light bathed its water in beauty. Along its bank he rode, till he struck the path worn deep by men and beasts down to a gravelly shallow; and here the mare plunged splashing through. Already he could see the sturdy keep of de Gislac on its hill—a single tower, tall, but so thick as to seem squat, and stout enough to hold a host at bay. High Tower boasted no outworks; a deep, dry moat spanned by a drawbridge was commanded by the grim height of the keep itself. But the bridge was raised. As the mare’s hoofs rang on the stony road, a voice challenged from the wall. “‘Monrepaire!”’ Geoffrey answered. Only the scream of chains on metal drums replied to his signal; but the draw- bridge sank slowly down; a heavy portcullis rose like iron teeth in a monster’s opening mouth. Two torches appeared in the arch- way, gleaming on polished armor. As he dismounted, a man-at-arms took his horse and led it into one of the stalls that lined the ground floor of the tower on three sides. Here the beasts of the household were kept; on the fourth side the garrison and humbler servants lodged. place in the Conqueror’s time. It Earl was out of fashion now, but though rude, its size and strength made up what it lacked in modern comfort. It was more than a hundred feet square within and each wall was twenty feet thick of dressed stone. The second man guided Geoffrey up the stone stair that angled up the walls. As they mounted higher, the draft from the long, narrow arrow-slits blew in their faces. At the end of the first flight a slender, thick- walled arch confronted them, and two more men-at-arms stood aside to let them pass. The light from their out-thrust torches illu- mined a corridor and a second door beyond. Geoffrey’s guide knocked, and a hearty voice bade them enter. “Vou are already announced, my mas- ter,” the soldier said, and went down the stair. Thrusting the door open, Geoffrey stepped into the room that had been almost a second home to him for many months. It was a roomy hall, lighted by pine torches and HIGH TOWER had been a great Adventure three-foot candles of wax in wall-brackets. Here also the Summer breeze blew ’in freely through a score of arrow-slits, stirring the dusty hangings deep-embroidered with fig- ures of knights that seemed to stir and strike as the wind bellied out the heavy cloth. A huge table of solid oak with oaken chairs and benches about it was close to the center of the hall, beside a fire-pit that was now cold and empty from disuse. Silent, hawk-featured men in steel mail, armed with pike and cruel-bladed gisarm, stood about the walls. The floor was ankle-deep in scented rushes; falcons perched on the sooty rafters. From the shadow beyond the table a form stirred. A tall man, seeming huge in the half-light, rose slowly and came forward. As he moved toward Geoffrey, the light from a candle fell athwart his face. Giles de Gis- lac was all a Norman warrior should be: his face was squarely made, with bold, frank features, a high arched nose, a stern square jaw, great black eyes that held a gleam of smothered fire and firm lips framed in a maze of fierce black beard. His body was indeed huge and still powerful as in his youth. His shoulders might have borne a church, as the romances say; and his great arms swung at his sides with a smooth motion that breathed power. silver belt, only served to emphasize the overawing strength of the man. He thrust out one hand, surprizingly small for one of his size, and crushed Geoffrey’s fingers in his. The fierce face lighted as he spoke his welcome, in a voice low and gentle but vibrant with reserved resonance: ““Benedicite, boy, and welcome. well at Maurepaire?”’ Geoffrey winced a little at the grim pun, and Sir Giles, seeing, laughed softly. “Nay, forgive an old soldier for the grudges of his vouth. I meant no harm, lad. Your roof shelters at least one friend to Gislac.”’ Geoffrey’s eves were serious. Usually Sir Giles made him laugh, for the old man was a merry soul in spite of his grim ferocity in a quarrel. But tonight the boy was sober with his errand. Aye, sober, now that he was on the brink of broaching it. His high spirits had passed, for he was soon to ask the ques- tion of his life. He drew a long breath and plunged into the midst of it— ‘“‘You may have more than one friend in Monrepaire, if you but choose.”’ Is all COmiclbook The loose robe, girded with a loose > CO