The Black Tor | Page 9

seen it from
another point of view, that he would probably not see them again for an
hour or two, perhaps not again that day, if Sir Edward Eden received
the proposals of Captain Purlrose favourably, he began slowly and
thoughtfully to descend. For he knew that it would be a serious matter
for his father if Sir Edward Eden seized upon the opportunity for
strengthening his retainers and attacking his rival.
The feud between the two families had lasted for generations,
beginning so far back that the origin was lost in the mists of time. All
that Ralph Darley knew was, that in the days of Henry the Eighth, an
Eden had done a Darley deadly injury that could never be forgiven,
and ever since the wrong had been handed down from father to son as
a kind of unpleasant faith by which it was the duty of all Darleys to be
prepared to exterminate all Edens; and if they could not exterminate
them and seize upon their possessions, to do them all the injury they
could.

There was another version of the story, as Ralph well knew, and it was
precisely the same, saving for the following exception: that in the
beginning it was a Darley who did the deadly wrong to an Eden. But
one thing was certain--the two families had carried on their petty
warfare in the most determined way. Edens had fallen by the sword; so
had Darleys. There was a grim legend, too, of an Eden having been
taken prisoner, and starved to death in one of the dungeons of Cliffe
Castle, in Queen Mary's time; and Ralph had often gone down below to
look at the place, and the staple ring and chain in the gloomy place,
shuddering at the horror of the prisoner's fate.
For this the Edens had waited their time, and surprised the castle one
night, driving the occupants from place to place, till they took refuge in
the central tower, from which they could not be dislodged; so the Edens
contented themselves by the following reprisal: they set fire to the
castle in a dozen places before they retired, the flames raging till there
was no more woodwork to destroy, and nothing was left but the strong
central tower and the sturdy walls. The place was restored, though,
soon after, and the Sir Ralph Darley of Elizabeth's time made an
expedition one night to give tit-for-tat, but only to find out that it was
impossible to get across the stoutly-defended natural bridge at Black
Tor, and that it was waste of time to keep on shooting arrows, bearing
burning rags soaked in pitch, on to the roofs of the towers and in at the
loopholes. So he retreated, with a very sore head, caused by a stone
thrown from above, dinting in his helmet, and with half his men
carrying the other half, wounded or dead.
His successor had tried again and again to master the Edens and seize
their possessions. Amongst these was the Black Tor lead-mine,
approached by steps in the side of the cliff; its galleries honeycombed
the place, running right under the earth, and into natural caverns of the
large opposite cliffs of limestone, where the jackdaws built their nests.
Ralph Darley, living as he did that day in the days of King James,
pondered on all those old legends as he descended to give his father the
information he had acquired; and as he stepped down, he knit his
brows and began to think that it was quite time this feud had an end,

and that it must be his duty to finish it all off, in spite of the addition to
the strength at Black Tor, by waiting his opportunity, and meeting, and
in fair fight slaying, young Mark Eden, who was about his own age,
seventeen, and just back home from one of the great grammar-schools.
This done, he would make a scheme for seizing the Black Tor, putting
Sir Edward Eden and his mercenaries to the sword, but sparing the
men who were miners, so that they might go on working for the Darleys.
By this means he would end the feud, secure peace, and make his father
a rich and happy man, having proved himself a thoroughly good and
chivalrous son.
Ralph felt very brave, and proud, and happy, when he had reached this
point, which was just as he opened the door of his father's room, which
contained a very small library--books being rare and precious in those
days--plenty of handsome armour and war-like weapons of offence, and
a corner set apart for alchemy and the study of minerals; for, in a
desultory way, Sir Morton Darley, bitten by the desire to have a mine
of his own to produce him