The Outlaw of Torn | Page 9

so that De Vac was forced to grasp
him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage and alarm from the royal child.
"Unhand me, sirrah," screamed the boy. "How dare you lay hands on a prince of
England ?"
De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries, but it was too late. The
Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in an instant, they were rushing toward the
postern gate, the officer drawing his sword as he ran.
When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside, and the
Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate. But, handicapped by the
struggling boy, he had not time to turn the key before the officer threw himself against
the panels and burst out before the master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud.
De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughly affrightened Prince with
his left hand, drew his sword and confronted the officer.
There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentions were too plain to
necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon each other with grim fury; the brave officer
facing the best swordsman that France had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his
young prince.

In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws of chivalry, he did not
lower his point until it had first plunged through the heart of his brave antagonist. Then,
with a bound, he leaped between Lady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat
into the garden and give the alarm.
Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing the lady in waiting, his
back against the door.
"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules," she cried, "hast thou gone mad ?"
"No, My Lady," he answered, "but I had not thought to do the work which now lies
before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy head and let his patron saint look
after the welfare of this princeling ? Your rashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it
must be either you or I, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself
for death."
Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded by the great lords and
nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, whom
he had summoned that he might heap still further indignities upon him with the intention
of degrading and humiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King feared
this mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follies which were
bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution.
What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, for Leicester had but
just entered and saluted his sovereign when there came an interruption which drowned
the petty wrangles of king and courtier in a common affliction that touched the hearts of
all.
There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, and Eleanor, Queen of
England, staggered toward the throne, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
"Oh, My Lord ! My Lord !' she cried, "Richard, our son, has been assassinated and
thrown into the Thames."
In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with the greatest difficulty that the
King finally obtained a coherent statement from his queen.
It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace with Prince Richard at
the proper time, the Queen had been notified and an immediate search had been instituted
-- a search which did not end for over twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the
hearts of the court to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the dead bodies of
Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowhere was there a sign or trace of
Prince Richard, second son of Henry III of England, and at that time the youngest prince
of the realm.
It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it was that one of the
lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty of the episode of the fencing bout, and
a motive for the abduction of the King's little son became apparent.

An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England, for on the left
breast of the little Prince was a birthmark which closely resembled a lily and, when after
a year no child was found bearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the
search was carried into France, nor was