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Updated: May 17, 2025
As he ascended the stairs he heard the sound of a trumpet, or rather a horn. Loud cries of surprise and alarm greeted his ears. He went out on the watch tower. The woods were alive with men: they issued out on all sides the "merrie men" of the woods. Drogo saw at once that they had come to seek Martin.
Of course Sir Nicholas was quite unaware that the third child of the old lord, Mabel, had left issue. Do our readers remember it? Drogo had no real claim on Walderne, and could only succeed by disposition of Sir Nicholas, in the absence of natural heirs. Oh, those poor young lovers! She cried, and although Hubert tried hard to restrain it, it was infectious, and he couldn't help a tear.
"Nay, my son, we have few loyal servants in the Andredsweald, and those who honour us will we honour ." The followers of Drogo made the place resound with their acclamations. The multitude cried, "Largesse!
But would he then release his hold? Whether or not, there was no alternative, and Drogo became lord de facto of Walderne. The Father Roger was now a monk professed, and could hold no property, nor did he see any reason for disputing the will which made Drogo tenant in charge for his son Hubert. He knew nought of the change of mind in Lady Sybil only Martin knew this and Martin could not prove it.
"And there is the line of hills over Keinton and Radway ." "And there Black Down Hill." "And there the spires of Coventry." "Yes," said Drogo, "but it is not like the view from my uncle's castle in the Andredsweald, over a far wilder forest than this of Arden, with the great billowy downs for a southern bulwark.
Hard by the river, on the eastern side of the town, and beneath the high cliffs which rise almost precipitously to the isolated group of downs, there was a terrible charge, a hand-to-hand melee. Drogo of Walderne and Harengod, his sword red with blood, his lance couched, was confronted here by a knight in sable armour, his sole cognisance the White Cross. They rode at each other.
"Yes, afar off," said the lad dreamily, for Hubert gave him a warning look. "Even as a cat may look at a king's palace." "But those woods are full of outlaws," said another lad, Louis de Chalgrave. "All the better; it will be rare sport to hunt them out." "Easier said than done," muttered Martin, but not so low that his words were unheard. "What is easier said than done?" cried Drogo.
So the defences of the castle were never neglected, and the arts of warfare ceased not to be objects of daily study in the Middle Ages. The Lady Sybil never trusted Drogo thoroughly.
But he was not alone, his God was with him, as with Daniel in the lion's den, and he never for one moment gave way to despair. He accepted the trial as best he might, and bore the chilling atmosphere and scanty fare like a hero. Yet he was a prisoner in the castle of his fathers. And the unjust accusation of Drogo gave him deep pain.
The dungeons were reopened which had long been closed; the torture chamber, long disused, was refitted, as it had been in the dreadful days of King Stephen; the defences had been looked to, the weapons furbished, for, as a war horse sniffs battle afar off, so did Drogo. Need I tell my readers which side Drogo took?
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