Adventure Magazine Cover, August 18, 1921 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

34 “Ah, forgive me! I meant nothing—noth- ing. You must love me dearly, Geoffrey, and be well soon. Your uncle shall come as soon as he can be spared. Come, it is time for your draft.” “How can I do otherwise than get well with such thoughtful love and care for me filling every moment? If I could only fight for you!” “Strength first, my boy, and then the fight,”’ said the voice of Sir Giles from the doorway. He entered the room, continuing: “If you hear tumult tonight, have ne fear for us. We make a sortie. It is well planned and can not fail. For the first time since the siege began, I have displayed my banner on the wall. Last night’s victory gave me enough warrant for it. The eagle on the tower, or, in a field azure—’tis a fa- mous device! The eagle is snared for the moment, but she plucks at the snare, boy. Her beak and talons can still rip. I shall have good news for you tomorrow.” Geoffrey’s face and Margaret’s glowed in response to his words, albeit Geoffrey’s soon sobered. “Is Father Ambrose here?” he asked at length. ‘Since my uncle is too occupied to see me, I would fain talk with the priest. His holy teaching would comfort me.” Gislac’s lips twisted under the black beard, which sufficiently concealed their agi- tation. “‘He is not here,” he answered the boy. “But I will prepare a chamber for him, in case he should appear. The siege is tight without, you know, and it is as hard to get in as to get out.” As Sir Giles left the room, he was thinking in his heart— “Let me lay hands on that black-frocked priest of Belial and I will prepare a chamber for him that will make him long for a bed in hell!”’ CHAPTER VIII UMFRAVILLE’S TERMS wi A the Saxon clung to his master’s arm, an agony of appeal in his voice. “‘Let us go, let us go, my lord!” he begged. “‘We have not struck a blow, have scarce loosed a shaft. Would you rob us of all the glory?” “Obey me and you shall have your share tonight,’”’ Gislac promised. ‘You together Adventure with the other bowmen shall man the gal- leries above the postern. Hark now!” He whispered a few crisp sentences into Witta’s ear and repeated the instructions to the Norman archer in charge of the second division. “Ready, Thomas. You and Gerard stand guard at the gate. His thigh is well enough for that now, though I would not risk him yet at quick work in the open. Keep well back in the shadow and be prompt to close the gate. Understood? Ready, all!” The rocks and timbers having been cleared aside in the afternoon, the postern was softly opened. Its well-greased hinges made no sound. The keep was as black as the moonless night outside. Quietly, their feet wrapped in felt casings over the mail, fifty men-at-arms stole out after de Gislac’s broad back. Though the fires on the wall had been suffered to dwindle till no single ray reached the ground, the men wore short cloaks and hose of dark cloth over their armor, lest the gleam of the metal rings betray them. Their only weapons were swords, knives or axes. They bore no spears to trip them up in the dark. When the low iap-tap of Gerard’s dag- ger-hilt against the casing told him all had passed the gate, Gislac clucked softly with his tongue. His men gathered together as well as they could in the dark, and Sir Giles gave them their last instructions in a vibrant whisper: “Around the wall—so. Yonder are his fires. Wander not from the true southwest and keep as close as ye may. Let not your anger carry you too far. We plan to lame the Reiver, not destroy him. At my signal back for vour lives! If ye tarry, ye must be outnumbered. On them now, for the Eagle of Gislac!’’ ALREADY quivering with eager- ness, the men sped toward the camp- ~>M fires of de Monrepaire as fast as their feet would carry them. Knowing every inch of the ground, they were repeat- ing in deadly earnest a maneuver they had often practised in time of peace. Already they could see the drowsy sentinels on guard by the trenches, the fires gleaming red on their armor. Dark-clad as they were, the men of Gis- lac were on the startled sentinels before a COmiclbook CO