Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open glade across which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the glade from either side.For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other in silence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black charger, cried out something to the other which the boy could not catch.The other knight made no response other than to rest his lance upon his thigh and with lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary.For a dozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another, but presently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the two iron men on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of the glade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge.
The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of his foeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled upon the gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway.The momentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horseman before his rider could rein him in, then the black knight turned to view the havoc he had wrought.The gray horse was just staggering dizzily to his feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen.
With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of his vanquished foe.There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leaned toward the prostrate form.He spoke tauntingly, but there was no response, then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear.Even this elicited no movement.With a shrug of his iron clad shoulders, the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he had disappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encircling forest.
The little boy was spell-bound.Naught like this had he ever seen or dreamed.
"Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son," said the little old woman.
"Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed ?" he asked.
"Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lance and mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood and death, for every man shalt be thy enemy.But come, we must be on our way."They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always in his memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for the day when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight.
On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape the notice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares, they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of some bushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised and defenseless tradesmen.
Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeons and daggers, with here and there a cross-bow.Without mercy they attacked the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood even when they offered no resistance.Those of the caravan who could, escaped, the balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, as they hurried away with their loot.
At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the little old woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips.She noted his expression of dismay.
"It is naught, my son.But English curs setting upon English swine.Some day thou shalt set upon both -- they be only fit for killing."The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that which he had seen.Knights were cruel to knights -- the poor were cruel to the rich --and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mind that everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor.He had seen them in all their sorrow and misery and poverty -- stretching a long, scattering line all the way from London town.Their bent backs, their poor thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the weary wretchedness of their existence.
"Be no one happy in all the world ?" he once broke out to the old woman.
"Only he who wields the mightiest sword," responded the old woman."You have seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts.They set upon and kill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all.When thou shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all for unless thou kill them, they will kill thee."At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a little hamlet in the hills.Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horse purchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninviting country away from the beaten track, until late one evening they approached a ruined castle.
The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, and where a portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shining through the narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile the likeness of a huge, many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of a deserted world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation.
Before this somber pile, the two dismounted.The little boy was filled with awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached the crumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them.From the dark shadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court.At the far end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with decaying planks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of oats upon the floor for him from a bag which had bung across his rump.
Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lighting their advance with a flickering pine knot.The old planking of the floors, long unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach.There was a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed by in a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night.
