As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon his person or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rank or house. More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he was without rank or other title than that of outlaw1 and he seemed to assume what in reality he held in little esteem2.
He wore armor because his old guardian3 had urged him to do so, and not because he craved4 the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause, he rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail upon the old man to explain the reason which necessitated5 this precaution.
“It is enough that I tell you, my son,” the old fellow was wont6 to say, “that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face to your enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I hope, when you shall uncover your countenance7 to all England.”
The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it off as the foolish whim8 of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless.
Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity9 that day, loomed10 a very different Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before, when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows of the night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whose metamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent11 to the castle had marked.
Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing12 than ever in the most resplendent days of its past grandeur13. The original keep was there with its huge, buttressed14 Saxon towers whose mighty15 fifteen foot walls were pierced with stairways and vaulted16 chambers17, lighted by embrasures which, mere18 slits19 in the outer periphery20 of the walls, spread to larger dimensions within, some even attaining21 the area of small triangular22 chambers.
The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of the castle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set at intervals23 with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking fire from long bows, cross bows and javelins24 might be directed against a scaling party.
The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice25, which natural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side.
The main gateway26 of the castle looked toward the west and from it ran the tortuous27 and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward the valley below. The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and rugged28 beauty. A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparsely29 studded with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view of broad and lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling tributary30 of the Trent.
Two more gateways31 let into the great fortress32, one piercing the north wall and one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified33 with towered and buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the main gates could be reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the inner gates were similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which, spanning the moat when lowered, could be drawn34 up at the approach of an enemy, effectually stopping his advance.
The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under the direction of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father, were of the Norman type of architecture, the windows were larger, the carving36 more elaborate, the rooms lighter37 and more spacious38.
Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his ten hundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires39, lackeys40, cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like to care for the wants of his little army.
Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, were quartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive with cows, oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens.
Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding41 oxen were daily visitors to the grim pile, fetching provender42 for man and beast from the neighboring farm lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid good gold for their crops.
These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons44 who owned the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell or give a pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain of death, but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly and always returned full laden45, and though the husbandmen told sad tales to their overlords of the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which he seized upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their cheeks as they spoke46 and the Devil's gold in their pockets.
And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants' love for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, their stock, their crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestation47 even though the neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked from the wine cellar to the ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor did anyone dare ride rough shod over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled. A dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Derby hills, and though the barons would much rather have had all the rest than he, the peasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the lowborn murderers who had been wont to despoil49 the weak and lowly and on whose account the women of the huts and cottages had never been safe.
Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, but they loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for him to their ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser50 gods of the forest and the meadow and the chase, for though they were confessed Christians51, still in the hearts of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions52 of their ancestors; and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and to Mary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the safe side with the others, in case they did happen to exist.
A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious53 people, they were; accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader54 and then another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels of their feudal55 lords and their rapacious56 monarchs57.
No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, for since their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors58, to England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them from oppression.
On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter was for carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young man would neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn to molest48 the lowly. A ragged59 tunic60 was a surer defence against this wild horde61 than a stout62 lance or an emblazoned shield.
So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit Father Claude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing from the copper63 boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmen kneeling uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkable64 after all.
Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and lay back moodily65 upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong, lithe66 legs stretched out before him.
“What ails67 you, my son?” asked the priest, “that you look so disconsolate68 on this beautiful day?”
“I do not know, Father,” replied Norman of Torn, “unless it be that I am asking myself the question, 'What it is all for?' Why did my father train me ever to prey69 upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there is plenty of fighting which is legitimate70, and what good may all my stolen wealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it? Should I stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held by a hempen71 necklace.
“What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry72? They have quarrel enough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I should have hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten they really are. So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an old man's spite, not even knowing the grievance73 to the avenging74 of which my life has been dedicated75 by another.
“And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that the nameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, and never in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment76 or felt a caress77, even as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?”
“I have thought much of it, my son,” answered the priest. “It has ever been a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have held for years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudder78 to speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman of Torn, if you are not the son of the old man you call father, may God forfend that England ever guesses your true parentage. More than this, I dare not say except that, as you value your peace of mind and your life, keep your visor down and keep out of the clutches of your enemies.”
“Then you know why I should keep my visor down?”
“I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom you resemble.”
The conversation was interrupted by a commotion79 from without; the sound of horses' hoofs80, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an instant, both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the highroad, five knights82 in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party of ten or a dozen other steel-clad warriors83, while crouching84 breathless on her palfry, a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants85.
Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee86 and rode to her side with some word of command, at the same time grasping roughly at her bridle87 rein88. The girl raised her riding whip and struck repeatedly but futilely89 against the iron headgear of her assailant while he swung his horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after him, galloped90 rapidly out of sight.
Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmored condition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back and spurred swiftly in the direction taken by the girl and her abductor.
The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armor of his rider, soon brought the fugitives92 to view. Scarce a mile had been covered ere the knight81, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face of Norman of Torn not ten paces behind him.
With a look of mingled93 surprise, chagrin94 and incredulity the knight reined95 in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, “Mon Dieu, Edward!”
“Draw and defend yourself,” cried Norman of Torn.
“Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs,” cried Norman of Torn.
The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see the rider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struck the other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in the dust of the roadway.
The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fair battle upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor, the knight also had the advantage of its protection, so that the two fought furiously for several minutes without either gaining an advantage.
The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watching every move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, but seemed riveted97 to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle she was beholding99, as well, possibly, as by the fascination100 of the handsome giant who had espoused101 her cause. As she looked upon her champion, she saw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfect figure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean, athletic103 life of the trained fighting man.
Upon his face hovered104 a faint, cold smile of haughty105 pride as the sword arm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played with the sweating, puffing106, steel-clad enemy who hacked107 and hewed108 so futilely before him. For all the din35 of clashing blades and rattling109 armor, neither of the contestants had inflicted110 much damage, for the knight could neither force nor insinuate111 his point beyond the perfect guard of his unarmored foe112, who, for his part, found difficulty in penetrating113 the other's armor.
Finally, by dint114 of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his blade through the meshes115 of his adversary116's mail, and the fellow, with a cry of anguish117, sank limply to the ground.
“Quick, Sir Knight!” cried the girl. “Mount and flee; yonder come his fellows.”
And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which he had just come, there, racing118 toward him at full tilt119, rode three steel-armored men on their mighty horses.
“Ride, madam,” cried Norman of Torn, “for fly I shall not, nor may I, alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay these three fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape. Their heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your fleet palfrey.”
As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. That she was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness of her riding apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in her noble and haughty demeanor120 and the proud expression of her beautiful face.
Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head of Norman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways of women, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position. No woman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, ever known a mother.
His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was toward men, except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in a way, he looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Torn looked up to anything: God, man or devil—it being more his way to look down upon all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all.
As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined121 to alter the entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she was beautiful, and that she was of that class against whom he had preyed122 for years with his band of outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more to face her enemies with the strange inconsistency which had ever marked his methods.
Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father's castle, but today he was joyously123 offering to sacrifice his life for her—had she been the daughter of a charcoal124 burner he would have done no less. It was enough that she was a woman and in need of protection.
The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard for fair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But as the leading knight came close enough to behold98 his face, he cried out in surprise and consternation125:
“Mon Dieu, le Prince!” He wheeled his charging horse to one side. His fellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of them dashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they had been keen to attack.
“One would think they had met the devil,” muttered Norman of Torn, looking after them in unfeigned astonishment126.
“What means it, lady?” he asked turning to the damsel, who had made no move to escape.
“It means that your face is well known in your father's realm, my Lord Prince,” she replied. “And the King's men have no desire to antagonize you, even though they may understand as little as I why you should espouse102 the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort.”
“Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?” he asked.
“An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord?”
“I am not the Prince,” said Norman of Torn. “It is said that Edward is in France.”
“Right you are, sir,” exclaimed the girl. “I had not thought on that; but you be enough of his likeness127 that you might well deceive the Queen herself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king's son. Who are you then, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade, daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?”
“Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King Henry?” queried128 Norman of Torn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening.
“That I be,” replied the girl, “an' from your face I take it you have little love for a De Montfort,” she added, smiling.
“An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you niece or daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not war against women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety.”
“I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father's knights, to visit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby.”
“I know the castle well,” answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow of a grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsed since he had reduced the stronghold, and levied129 tribute on the great baron43. “Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste you shall sup with your friend before dark.”
So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace130 their steps down the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where it had fallen.
“Ride on,” he called to Bertrade de Montfort, “I will join you in an instant.”
Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and lifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the point of his dagger131 the letters NT.
The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her and he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act. Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he did, her heart would have quailed132 within her and she would have fled in terror from the clutches of this scourge133 of England, whose mark she had seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights and kinsmen134.
Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more with lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de Montfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited his interest.
Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and terrible attacks. While stories were abroad of his vile135 treatment of women captives, there was no truth in them. They were merely spread by his enemies to incite136 the people against him. Never had Norman of Torn laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years. It was not love, nor was it allied137 to love, but a deep longing138 for companionship of such as she, and such as she represented. Norman of Torn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did not know, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for other lions, but for his lioness.
They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
“I am Nor—” and then he stopped. Always before he had answered that question with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought. Was it because he feared the loathing140 that name would inspire in the breast of this daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fear to face the look of seem and repugnance141 that was sure to be mirrored in that lovely face?
“I am from Normandy,” he went on quietly. “A gentleman of France.”
“But your name?” she said peremptorily142. “Are you ashamed of your name?”
“You may call me Roger,” he answered. “Roger de Conde.”
“Raise your visor, Roger de Conde,” she commanded. “I do not take pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man within.”
Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as he rarely did, he was good to look upon.
“It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade de Montfort,” he said.
The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor143 and gaiety of youth and health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as they might have been friends of long standing144.
She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day, attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of Colfax, to abduct91 her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily and roughly denied by her father.
Simon de Montfort was no man to mince145 words, and it is doubtless that the old reprobate146 who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavory truths from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by his rude and discourteous147, though true and candid148, speeches to the King.
“This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to,” growled149 Norman of Torn. “And, as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for the asking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort.”
“Very well,” she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much indulged in in those days. “You may bring me his head upon a golden dish, Roger de Conde.”
“And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his princess the head of her enemy?” he asked lightly.
“That whatsoever151 a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever calumnies152 may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and believe in his honor and his loyalty153.”
The girl laughed gaily154 as she answered, though something seemed to tell her that this was more than play.
“It shall be as you say, Sir Knight,” she replied. “And the boon once granted shall be always kept.”
Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided155 that he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any other thing he knew of. And wishing it, he determined156 to win it by any means that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many respects was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and there, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the Baron's hospitality overnight.
The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore his sword arm in a sling157.
“We have been through grievous times,” said Sir John, noticing that his guest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. “That fiend, Norman the Devil, with his filthy158 pack of cut-throats, besieged159 us for ten days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is no longer safe in England with the King spending his time and money with foreign favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his own barons, instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the right of every Englishman at home.
“But,” he continued, “this outlaw devil will come to the end of a short halter when once our civil strife160 is settled, for the barons themselves have decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not subdue161 him.”
“An' he may send the barons naked home as he did the King's soldiers,” laughed Bertrade de Montfort. “I should like to see this fellow; what may he look like—from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many of your men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him.”
“Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us,” replied the Baron, “but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of him and that he is of horrid162 countenance, wearing a great yellow beard and having one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to his chin.”
“A fearful apparition,” murmured Norman of Torn. “No wonder he keeps his helm closed.”
“But such a swordsman,” spoke up a son of De Stutevill. “Never in all the world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard.”
“I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay,” said Bertrade de Montfort, “and that today. O he!” she cried, laughing gleefully, “verily do I believe I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight, who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er saw man fight before, and he rode with his visor down until I chide163 him for it.”
Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the company he most enjoyed the joke.
“An' speaking of the Devil,” said the Baron, “how think you he will side should the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his thousand hell-hounds, the fate of England might well be in the palm of his bloody164 hand.”
“He loves neither King nor baron,” spoke Mary de Stutevill, “and I rather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but rather plunder165 the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters be absent at war.”
“It be more to his liking166 to come while the master be home to welcome him,” said De Stutevill, ruthfully. “But yet I am always in fear for the safety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time. May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn.”
“I think you may have no need of fear on that score,” spoke Mary, “for Norman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall of Stutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was the great outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailed hand as to crack the ruffian's helm, saying at the time, 'Know you, fellow, Norman of Torn does not war upon women?'”
Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Torn heard no more of himself during that evening.
His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, and then, on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in an embrasure of the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more of the necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to remain.
“To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort,” he said boldly, “I would forego any other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, but there are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me away from you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father, Simon de Montfort, in Leicester. Provided,” he added, “that you will welcome me there.”
“I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde,” replied the girl.
“Never,” she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said it would have meant much to a man better versed168 in the ways of women than was Norman of Torn.
“I hope not,” he said gravely. “I cannot tell you, being but poorly trained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that you might know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade de Montfort,” and he bent169 to one knee, as he raised her fingers to his lips.
As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a few minutes later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look at the castle and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood a young woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by sudden impulse, threw a kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear from the embrasure with the act.
As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, he had much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he realized what might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge of bitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whose teachings from the boy's earliest childhood had guided him in the ways that had cut him off completely from the society of other men, except the wild horde of outlaws170, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneath the grisly banner of the young chief of Torn.
Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girl who had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feel shame for his past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so he could not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort.
And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of his strange likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with the words of Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was it a heinous171 offence to own an accidental likeness to a king's son?
But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always with closed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his face from the sight of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but from some inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom172.
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1
outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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buttressed
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| v.用扶壁支撑，加固( buttress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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19
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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20
periphery
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| n.(圆体的)外面；周围 | |
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21
attaining
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的现在分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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22
triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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23
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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24
javelins
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| n.标枪( javelin的名词复数 ) | |
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25
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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26
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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27
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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28
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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29
sparsely
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| adv.稀疏地；稀少地；不足地；贫乏地 | |
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30
tributary
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| n.支流；纳贡国；adj.附庸的；辅助的；支流的 | |
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31
gateways
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| n.网关( gateway的名词复数 )；门径；方法；大门口 | |
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32
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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33
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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34
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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35
din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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36
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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37
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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38
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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39
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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40
lackeys
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| n.听差( lackey的名词复数 )；男仆（通常穿制服）；卑躬屈膝的人；被待为奴仆的人 | |
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41
plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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42
provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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43
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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44
barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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45
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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46
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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47
molestation
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| n.骚扰，干扰，调戏；折磨 | |
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48
molest
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| vt.骚扰，干扰，调戏 | |
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49
despoil
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| v.夺取，抢夺 | |
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50
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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51
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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52
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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53
superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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54
invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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55
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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56
rapacious
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| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
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57
monarchs
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| 君主，帝王( monarch的名词复数 ) | |
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58
conquerors
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| 征服者，占领者( conqueror的名词复数 ) | |
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59
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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60
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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61
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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63
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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64
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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65
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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66
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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67
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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68
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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69
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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70
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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71
hempen
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| adj. 大麻制的, 大麻的 | |
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72
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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73
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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74
avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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75
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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76
endearment
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| n.表示亲爱的行为 | |
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77
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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78
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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79
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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80
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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81
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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82
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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83
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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84
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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85
contestants
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| n.竞争者，参赛者( contestant的名词复数 ) | |
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86
melee
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| n.混战；混战的人群 | |
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87
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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88
rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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89
futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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90
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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91
abduct
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| vt.诱拐，拐带，绑架 | |
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92
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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93
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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94
chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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95
reined
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| 勒缰绳使（马）停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 )； 驾驭； 严格控制； 加强管理 | |
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96
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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97
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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98
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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99
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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100
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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101
espoused
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| v.（决定）支持，拥护（目标、主张等）( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
espouse
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| v.支持，赞成，嫁娶 | |
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103
athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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104
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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105
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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106
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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107
hacked
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| 生气 | |
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108
hewed
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| v.（用斧、刀等）砍、劈( hew的过去式和过去分词 )；砍成；劈出；开辟 | |
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109
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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110
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
insinuate
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| vt.含沙射影地说，暗示 | |
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112
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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113
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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114
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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115
meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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116
adversary
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| adj.敌手，对手 | |
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117
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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118
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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119
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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120
demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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121
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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122
preyed
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| v.掠食( prey的过去式和过去分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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123
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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124
charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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125
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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126
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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127
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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128
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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129
levied
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| 征（兵）( levy的过去式和过去分词 )； 索取； 发动（战争）； 征税 | |
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130
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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131
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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132
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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134
kinsmen
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| n.家属，亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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135
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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136
incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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137
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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138
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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139
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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140
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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141
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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142
peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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143
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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144
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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145
mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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146
reprobate
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| n.无赖汉；堕落的人 | |
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147
discourteous
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| adj.不恭的，不敬的 | |
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148
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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149
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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150
boon
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| n.恩赐，恩物，恩惠 | |
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151
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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152
calumnies
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| n.诬蔑，诽谤，中伤（的话）( calumny的名词复数 ) | |
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153
loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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154
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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155
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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156
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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157
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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158
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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159
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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161
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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162
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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163
chide
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| v.叱责；谴责 | |
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164
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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165
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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166
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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167
repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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168
versed
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| adj. 精通，熟练 | |
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169
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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170
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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171
heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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172
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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