Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

Murkwood Spears - He has come back from the gates of death to fight for his own and for you. What baron will interfere between a Norman and his foes? You are safe beneath the shield of Geoffrey de Monrepaire. His foes are yours; his sword strikes for you. Will you fight for him?” Slowly Witta met his gaze. Slowly the Saxon thought, but at last he bowed his head. “T will!’ he answered. ‘‘And you, lads?” ess the Saxons shouted. “Fight we will!” CHAPTER XII THE LADY OF FLAMFORD ANULF DE UMFRAVILLE, the Blue Boar of Flamford, held ever true to one rule of conduct, “One thing at a time.” His -brain was cunning, with the craft of the hard-hitting, hard-living robber baron; but his blood had not inherited nor his training fostered a wide vision. When he thought of the future at all, he thought in simple terms, devised pettily shrewd schemes, the base of which was treachery. Yet he took great pride in that tarnished thing he called his honor; and making a point of keeping his word, he took great pains -not to give it unnecessarily. His intrigue with de Born against the Rotten Reiver had been a simple thing. Never having sworn to keep faith, he did not conceive that good faith obliged him to act against his own interests. Thus he schemed without compunction, one thing at. a time. First, a secret compact with de Born; next, a bluff defiance in the Reiver’s teeth; then, terms with Gislac. He saw certain advantages in a marriage with Gislac’s daughter: the prestige her noble blood would add to his house; the claim to her father’s estates, if de Born should chance to die. It even entered his head that perhaps in a year or so de Born might be aided to die. This was as far as Umfraville had thought the matter out. Had he been truly wise, had his cun- ning been leavened with the least dash of imagination, he would have perceived at once a flaw that came near to wrecking his schemes. That flaw was forced on his at- tention swiftly and sternly. He managed his withdrawal frome High Tower like a good soldier. For a brief, 5I frantic hour before the garrison’s surrender he had had his capable hands full to re- strain his jubilant men-at-arms from drink- ing themselves helpless and to round up the horses and mules in his camp for a swift departure. His arrangements with de Born would hold off the wounded Reiver until he could get safely away from the latter’s anger. But de Born himself, rapa- cious beyond measure, secretly incited his men to steal Umfraville’s beasts during the confusion of breaking camp. Foreseeing this—for he knew his ally—the Blue Boar took precautions. The -lack of discipline among his hard-bitten followers made his task heavy; but he was equal to it. Once he had selected his half of Gislac’s men and Margaret had mounted beside him, he rode off in triumph. Not for long, however. He was soon obliged to halt, for the hunger and weariness of his new retainers made them laggard on the march. When they had eaten, he made many of his own men-at-arms give up their horses to Gislac’s former warriors and so pushed on for no more than ten miles west of High Tower. Here there was a pleasant glade, where the exhausted soldiers from High Tower might rest, till a night’s sleep and more food should put fresh vigor in their limbs. Having made the round of his sentries and seen that all was in good order, Um- fraville strode eagerly through the dusk toward his tent. It was the only shelter in his camp, and by his order Margaret was lodged in it. The purpose to see her, to speak with her, was in his mind. She was his now, and her lovely face would reward him well for the toil he had endured in the siege. Having had scarce opportunity for a dozen words with her since they had left High Tower, he was minded to seek some consolation now. He was surprized to see the entrance guarded not only by the trooper he had ordered there but by a second man whom he knew not, but who was plainly one of the soldiers he had taken from Gislac. Making to go past him, Umfraville was stopped by the man’s lowered spear. “Stop, my lord baron,” the soldier com- manded. ‘You may not enter!’ Umfraville’s face darkened with anger. His own retainer, on the other side of the entrance, laid one hand uncertainly on his COmiclbook ©