Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

Murkwood Spears Submit now, Umfraville, and we will make you easy terms.” As he finished speaking, he caught the eye of Geoffrey, who gestured assent and sheathed his sword. “You came at an ill hour, in the devil’s name,” Umfraville snarled back. “A few hours more and your daughter would have been my wife. Nay, by the saints! She shall be yet! Hold the door, fellows! Flamard, fetch the priest.” Geoffrey leaped forward. “Sound the attack!’ he cried to Gislac. ‘““What use to win all else, if we lose her?” With an answering shout the besiegers clashed their weapons. They surged about the door of the keep; axes were raised once more. Suddenly mailed feet rang on the stair, a hand fumbled at the bars within and the massive door flew open. Through it stumbled a lean, gangling red-haired youth, white with terror, a javelin dashing against the stone at his heels. “Up, fellows!” Gislac cried; and ‘“Treach- ery!”’ bellowed the voice of Umfraville. Before the words died, Geoffrey sprang up the ill-defended stair, a multitude fol- lowing him. But the Yorkshire lad flung himself at Gislac’s feet, anchoring him fast, imploring protection. “Why, this is the archbishop’s messenger, whom we overtook on the road two nights ago!” the baron exclaimed. “Thou hast done well what we commanded thee.” “Even so, if it please you, good my lord,” the Northerner stammered. He spoke now in good Midlands, such as all men understood. “Last night I flung down the writing as you bade me, and now I have opened the door. Where is the gold you promised?” “You shall have it within the hour,” Gislac assured him. ‘Now let me go.” Tearing himself free, he ran up the stair of the keep and out upon the battle- ments. Umfraville stood, back to the parapet, hemmed in by his enemies. The tower was packed with angry men, shimmered with drawn blades. The three men-at-arms who had fled hither with the Boar were prisoners. BUT Gislac’s eyes were held by Um- fraville and the two nearest him. hot with fury, one arm encircling Margaret’s waist. His free hand held a knife. The 67 girl was pale, but she looked at Geoffrey steadily, smilingly. His drawn sword quivering in his hand, Geoffrey. de Monrepaire confronted his enemy. He had but to strike. One thrust, and the Boar would fall. But the dagger in Umfraville’s grasp had its sharp point resting on Margaret’s breast. At one side the half-circle of Saxons and men-at-arms jostling him, stood the frightened priest. While a man might count twice a hun- dred, they stood so, deadlocked. Abruptly, with a sob that wrenched his bosom, Um- fraville dashed his dagger to the floor. ‘““Ah, God!” he cried. “I can not hurt her. I love her, Gislac. Have mercy on a man sore-pressed!” For one moment Sir Giles could not for- bear exulting. “Heaven fought for us, Umfraville,’ he triumphed, “as soon or late it ever fights for the right. You had no chance. Our road crossed that of the archbishop’s mes- senger, whom we bought with gold cap- tured from de Born. Last night he threw down to us a writing which said that your watch was relaxed and your guards drink- ing heavily in honor of your coming mar- riage. Today he fulfilled the rest of our orders. We knew how to enter your gate; but a trusty friend within the walls was needed to throw your keep open to us. You have played an unlucky game, Um- fraville, but you have played it boldly.” Geoffrey, his sword sheathed, knelt at Margaret’s feet. The color flooding back into her cheeks, she gazed upon him with fond joy. Stooping, she whispered softly to him. He rose and turned toward Um- fraville. But the Blue Boar arrested him with a gesture. He began to speak, proud- ly, with a new dignity: “Gislac, you made terms with me once, for your life and the lives of all under your roof. By those terms you promised me your daughter and half your following. Your men-at-arms went over to you as soon as they heard your war-cry. Now you take back your daughter, who was to be my wife. Is it thus Giles de Gislac keeps his word?” It was Geoffrey who answered. “Sir Giles breaks no promises, sir. The tables are turned, that is all. He made cer- tain concessions to you, under duress; now you, under the same compulsion, must make concessions to us. “Moreover, Sir gGiles has in all things COmiclboolks C©