Adventure Magazine Cover, March 20, 1925 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

4 Adventure With an effort he opened his eyes and made shift to smile. “My lungs are in con- sumption, the priests say. Good youth, we trust we have not wearied you. Edward will never again rise from his bed.” Both the listeners started. Thorne had heard frequently of the feebleness of the boy, although he had not looked to find him so wasted away. To hear that Edward expected to die was a shock. Few men were victors in the long battle with the white plague. Stratford took no pains to conceal his anger that the sentmel should have heard the words of the king. -“To your post!” he whispered, drawing the youth back from the couch, where Edward was wracked by another fit of coughing. “Keep your ears to yourself, or the provost’s knife will e’en trim them to a proper size. Ha—your weapon has been taken.” The harquebus was not where Thorne had placed it, nor was it to be seen in the pavilion. He searched the tent with his eyes, and flushed hotly, realizing that he had allowed some one to steal his firelock while on duty. He was more than a little puzzled as to how it had been done. The officers of the household and some soldiers had pressed to the entrance of the marquee when he carried Edward forth, but he had noticed no one step within. Perforce, he had not been able to watch the weapon while he stood outside. Stratford, he knew, had not taken the harquebus. The hag by the bedside sat as before, fumblmg with her herbs. Her wrinkled face, brown and dry as a withered apple, was empty of all expression. Cer- tainly the firelock was not concealed under her kirtle. “So you would make the gipsy the butt of your carelessness?” grunted the duke. “Have you aught to say, before I make a charge to your officers that you have suffered your arms to be taken from you while on duty?” ~ “T say this.” Thorne drew the sword that hung from its sling at his hip and took his station at the entrance. “My lord, if any man seeks to cross my post unbidden he shall taste steel instead of lead.” — “Humph! er 5 The young cock can crow. at more? The gray eyes of the youngster narrowed and he kept silence. Although the fault had not been his, he could make no explana- tion. Stratford, an experienced soldier and a martinet, had no reason to make a charge against him. The duke, however, was irritated by the appointment of the Flanders veterans over his own yeomen and the officers of the household. “What more?” he repeated sharply. The second question required an answer, and a bleak look overspread the counte- nance of the armiger, drawing sharp lines about eyes and chin. “My lord of Stratford, the command of his Majesty was heard by your lordship. He bade me put down my weapon and carry him forth.” “Ha! Master Thorne you have yet to serve your apprenticeship: as a bearer-of- arms at court. To gratify the whim of a boy you made naught of your orders. You were placed here not to act a playmate or to seek royal favor, but to guard the life of your prince. What if you had been attacked by yonder canaille? Body of me!’ This time Thorne kept silent. The nobleman’s blame was unjust, but there was enough truth in it to make the armiger realise that his offense would be held un- pardonable if Stratford chose’ to press a charge against him. ‘True, he might ap- peal to the king who was honorary captain of the guards. But Edward fay passive on his couch, forgetful of sentinel or nobleman. Stratford paced the pavilion, as thrust into his sword-belt, and came to a stop by Thorne. Seeing that Edward was asleep, he said in a whisper: “When you are relieved, go to your quarters. Abide there without speaking to anybody of what you have seen or heard in this place. A soldier on duty,” he added bruskly, “may not give out what has come mae his eye on his post. Can you do that?” ges =IT WAS long after the armiger had aie left with his companions of the guard but without his firelock, that the Gipsy drew from beneath the couch where it had been ‘hidden by the deerskin, the harquebus that she had stolen. Unseen by Stratford and unnoticed by the new sentinel, she slipped the short GOMIG OOO (©