Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

Murkwood Spears “Norman you were and therefore safe,”’ Gislac expounded, “as long as you were in your own house. But now, my lad, being homeless and friendless, you may consider yourself Norman no longer. The glory of your race will no longer clear a way for you. If you meet a Saxon chur], will he bow down to you now and fetch you food? Not he. He will scowl at you, perhaps report to his lord that he has seen masterless men loose on the highway. “What then? Weshall have your uncle’s men-at-arms after us. Or do you meet a Norman seigneur, one who was proud to count himself your equal in the old days. Now, seeing you helpless, he will snatch you off to his dungeons for the looting of your sword and garments. Or worse—he will send for Sir Richard. Say you meet a man-at-arms. He will stare haughtily——” “Hush!” Geoffrey broke in suddenly. “Look yonder!” Something flashed on the crest of the hill before them—the light of the rising moon kindled on steel, as a mounted man rode down the nearer slope. Shrinking into the first patch of shadow, the fugitives crouched close. A snatch of song floated toward them. The moonlight twinkled on the point of a sloping lance. Now he was but a spear’s length away— a big man, but lithe and well formed, sit- ting his saddle with easy grace. He wore complete chain-armor, of a style Geoffrey and Gislac had never seen before. Instead of ending at the neck or across the chin, it was continued in a mask for the cheeks. Little could be seen of his face, what with the mask, the long nasal of his peaked hel- met, and the pale light of the moon. Yet there was something about him that whis- -pered subtly of overseas. “Outland mail?’? whispered Geoffrey. “But he rides better than any Fleming.”’ “More like a Frenchman,” answered Sir Giles. ‘Back, lad! Keep back!’ But Geoffrey, unheeding, sprang out into mid-road with empty, upraised hand. Not yet had he learned the instinctive caution of the hunted; moreover, his enemies were Normans, and this man, by his dress, seemed none of them. The boy acted on a half- formed purpose. If a Frenchman, this horseman might know some news of Henry of Anjou. “Greeting, fair sir!” he cried. “Are you from France?” 47 The stranger dropped his lance to the. half-rest with a practised ease that spoke the confident soldier. A pressure of the wrist, and he would be in posture of at- tack. “Even from Languedoc,” he replied with a mellow accent that proved his words. ‘“‘Whose man are you, Norman, that you challenge an ambassador on the highway?” “No man’s man,” Geoffrey declared. “But I would gladly serve Henry of Anjou, if I might get news of him. Since you are of Languedoc, you must be of his follow- ing?” “Even so. Has my Lord Henry many such frank and valiant friends hereabouts? How many more of you are there behind that hedge?”’ “Only myself,” spoke Sir Giles, stepping forward into the moonlight, for fear lest the mounted man mistrust Geoffrey and ride him down. But the Frenchman raised his lance to the slope again and drew quietly nearer. “Henry’s partisans will not always need to skulk in hedgerows or ride warily by night,” he said. “Has Henry landed?” cried Geoffrey and Sir Giles together. “Is he in England now?” ‘““Ave, he has landed,” the stranger an- swered slowly. “He has come—and he has gone, having made peace with Stephen. His captains urged him to seize his king- dom by the sword, but good men’s lives be- ing dearer to him than ambition, he compro- mised. “Henry is to become king when Stephen dies; but Stephen remains king while he lives. I ride to Portsmouth with tidings for Henry in France. He is my master.” All the joy, all the long-cherished hope faded from Gislac’s eyes. Gone were those few brief weeks when he and Geoffrey might have been welcome recruits in the invader’s camp. Gone, while they lay be- sieged in High Tower, while Geoffrey re- covered strength at Fulham. Now that the Count of Anjou had won ‘the succession to the throne, he would busy himself in his French domains, little heed- ing what Stephen’s barons might do to certain obscure men of whom he had never heard. Stephen, though weak of will, was strong and hale of body. He might live to mis- govern England for years. Little chance COmiclbook C©