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    The Black Arrow(Illustrated)
    The Black Arrow(Illustrated)
    The Black Arrow(Illustrated)
    Ebook306 pages4 hours

    The Black Arrow(Illustrated)

    By Robert Louis Stevenson

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    About this ebook

    • Illustrated Edition with 20 stunning illustrations that bring the story to life
    • Includes a detailed Summary of the book
    • Features a comprehensive Characters List
    • Contains an insightful Biography of author Robert Louis Stevenson
    The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson is a thrilling adventure set against the backdrop of the bloody Wars of the Roses in medieval England. The story follows young Richard "Dick" Shelton, a courageous squire determined to uncover the truth behind his father's mysterious death. His quest leads him to join a band of outlaws known as the Fellowship of the Black Arrow, who seek justice against the treacherous noblemen ruling the land.
    Packed with fast-paced action, sword fights, daring escapes, and unexpected twists, The Black Arrow is a captivating tale of loyalty, betrayal, and love. Dick’s journey to reclaim his family's honor and protect the woman he loves, Joanna Sedley, is fraught with danger as he faces enemies on both sides of the war.
    Stevenson masterfully combines historical fiction with thrilling adventure in this timeless classic, making The Black Arrow a must-read for lovers of swashbuckling stories and vivid historical settings. This special illustrated edition adds depth and excitement to the reading experience, perfect for readers of all ages.
     
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSwish
    Release dateNov 2, 2024
    ISBN9791223081983
    The Black Arrow(Illustrated)
    Author

    Robert Louis Stevenson

    Scottish poet, novelist, and travel writer Robert Louis Stevenson is one of Britain's best-loved authors. He is perhaps most famous for his children's adventure classics Treasure Island and Kidnapped, but he was also a writer of powerful and original novels and short stories, among them the perennially popular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

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      The Black Arrow(Illustrated) - Robert Louis Stevenson

      THE BLACK ARROW

      A TALE OF THE TWO ROSES

      BY

      ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

      ABOUT STEVENSON

      Robert Louis Stevenson, born on November 13, 1850, in Edinburgh, Scotland, was a masterful storyteller whose works left an indelible mark on literature. Despite his frail health from an early age, Stevenson displayed a passion for adventure and the power of the imagination that would come to define his career. The son of a lighthouse engineer, he was expected to follow in the family tradition, but his love for writing soon overshadowed these expectations.

      Stevenson attended the University of Edinburgh to study law, yet his real interests lay in the art of storytelling. His early writings revealed a fascination with travel, human nature, and the intricacies of morality. His breakout success came with Treasure Island (1883), a thrilling tale of pirates and buried treasure, which introduced the world to unforgettable characters like Long John Silver.

      In addition to adventure tales, Stevenson explored the darker sides of the human psyche in works such as Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886), a novella that delved into the duality of good and evil, capturing the Victorian era's anxieties about identity and morality. His ability to blend thrilling narratives with philosophical depth earned him widespread acclaim.

      Stevenson’s own life mirrored the wanderlust and romantic spirit of his characters. He traveled extensively across Europe and America, seeking climates that would alleviate his persistent tuberculosis. Eventually, he settled in Samoa in the South Pacific, where he was embraced by the local community. Known as Tusitala or Teller of Tales, Stevenson spent his final years writing prolifically, crafting works that reflected his adventurous spirit and deepening empathy for humanity.

      Stevenson passed away at the age of 44 in 1894, but his legacy endures through his timeless stories that continue to inspire readers with their sense of adventure, moral inquiry, and poetic prose.

      SUMMARY

      The Black Arrow, a thrilling historical novel by Robert Louis Stevenson, is set during the turbulent Wars of the Roses in 15th-century England. The story follows young Richard Dick Shelton, whose quest for justice and revenge is woven into a tale of chivalry, betrayal, and political intrigue. After discovering that his guardian, Sir Daniel Brackley, may be responsible for his father's murder, Dick joins a mysterious band of outlaws known as the Fellowship of the Black Arrow. These outlaws, led by the enigmatic Ellis Duckworth, are determined to bring down the corrupt noblemen who oppress the land.

      As Dick navigates shifting loyalties and the violent upheaval of civil war, he embarks on a daring journey to reclaim his family’s honor and win the love of Joanna Sedley, a brave young woman who defies societal norms. Packed with swordfights, daring escapes, and treacherous plots, The Black Arrow combines the elements of a gripping adventure with a rich exploration of the battle between loyalty and personal morality.

      With vivid descriptions of medieval England and compelling characters, Stevenson captures the excitement and chaos of a country divided by war, all while keeping readers on the edge of their seats. The Black Arrow is not just a tale of swashbuckling heroics—it’s a story of a young man discovering his path in a world rife with danger, deception, and the quest for freedom.

      CHARACTERS LIST

      Richard Dick Shelton –The young protagonist of the story, an orphaned squire who sets out to discover the truth about his father's murder. Brave and honorable, Dick joins the Fellowship of the Black Arrow in his quest for justice.

      Sir Daniel Brackley –Dick’s corrupt and treacherous guardian, who is accused of being responsible for the murder of Dick’s father. Sir Daniel is a ruthless nobleman who shifts allegiances to protect his own power during the Wars of the Roses.

      Joanna Sedley –A strong and resourceful young woman who becomes Dick’s love interest. Disguised as a boy early in the story to escape Sir Daniel, Joanna is determined to reclaim her inheritance and independence.

      Ellis Duckworth –The mysterious leader of the Fellowship of the Black Arrow, a group of outlaws seeking revenge against corrupt noblemen, particularly Sir Daniel, for past wrongs. He becomes a key ally to Dick in his quest for justice.

      Bennet Hatch –Sir Daniel’s loyal but morally conflicted retainer. Although he serves Sir Daniel faithfully, he is not entirely comfortable with the nobleman’s schemes and cruelty.

      Lord Risingham –A powerful and wealthy nobleman who is also targeted by the Fellowship of the Black Arrow for his part in the corruption that plagues the land.

      Appleyard –An experienced archer and soldier who once served Dick’s father. Appleyard is loyal to the memory of Dick’s father but finds himself caught between loyalties to Sir Daniel and the growing rebellion.

      Sir Oliver Oates –A scheming and cowardly priest who is allied with Sir Daniel. He helps in Sir Daniel’s deceptions and manipulates others for personal gain.

      Will Lawless –One of the more colorful members of the Fellowship of the Black Arrow. He is a loyal companion of Ellis Duckworth and aids Dick in his journey.

      John Matcham –A mysterious boy who turns out to be Joanna Sedley in disguise. John/Joanna meets Dick early in the story and eventually becomes his love interest as her true identity is revealed.

      These characters drive the action and intrigue in The Black Arrow, adding layers of personal conflict and loyalty amid the larger backdrop of political upheaval.

      Contents

      Critic On The Hearth

      Prologue. John Amend-All

      BOOK 1. THE TWO LADS

      Chapter 1. At The Sign Of The Sun In Kettley

      Chapter 2. In The Fen

      Chapter 3. The Fen Ferry

      Chapter 4. A Greenwood Company

      Chapter 5. Bloody As The Hunter

      Chapter 6. To The Day’s End

      Chapter 7. The Hooded Face

      BOOK 2. THE MOAT HOUSE

      Chapter 1. Dick Asks Questions

      Chapter 2. The Two Oaths

      Chapter 3. The Room Over The Chapel

      Chapter 4. The Passage

      Chapter 5. How Dick Changed Sides

      BOOK 3. MY LORD FOXHAM

      Chapter 1. The House By The Shore

      Chapter 2. A Skirmish In The Dark

      Chapter 3. St. Bride’s Cross

      Chapter 4. The Good Hope

      Chapter 5. The Good Hope (Continued)

      Chapter 6. The Good Hope (Concluded)

      BOOK 4. THE DISGUISE

      Chapter 1. The Den

      Chapter 2. In Mine Enemies’ House

      Chapter 3. The Dead Spy

      Chapter 4. In The Abbey Church

      Chapter 5. Earl Risingham

      Chapter 6. Arblaster Again

      BOOK 5. CROOKBACK

      Chapter 1. The Shrill Trumpet

      Chapter 2. The Battle Of Shoreby

      Chapter 3. The Battle Of Shoreby (Concluded)

      Chapter 4. The Sack Of Shoreby

      Chapter 5. Night In The Woods: Alicia Risingham

      Chapter 6. Night In The Woods (Concluded): Dick And Joan

      Chapter 7. Dick’s Revenge

      Chapter 8. Conclusion

      Critic On The Hearth

      No one but myself knows what I have suffered, nor what my books have gained, by your unsleeping watchfulness and admirable pertinacity. And now here is a volume that goes into the world and lacks your imprimatur: a strange thing in our joint lives; and the reason of it stranger still! I have watched with interest, with pain, and at length with amusement, your unavailing attempts to peruse The Black Arrow; and I think I should lack humour indeed, if I let the occasion slip and did not place your name in the fly-leaf of the only book of mine that you have never read—and never will read.

      That others may display more constancy is still my hope. The tale was written years ago for a particular audience and (I may say) in rivalry with a particular author; I think I should do well to name him, Mr. Alfred R. Phillips. It was not without its reward at the time. I could not, indeed, displace Mr. Phillips from his well-won priority; but in the eyes of readers who thought less than nothing of Treasure Island, The Black Arrow was supposed to mark a clear advance. Those who read volumes and those who read story papers belong to different worlds. The verdict on Treasure Island was reversed in the other court; I wonder, will it be the same with its successor?

      R. L. S.

      Saranac Lake, April 8, 1888.

      Prologue. John Amend-All

      On a certain afternoon, in the late springtime, the bell upon Tunstall Moat House was heard ringing at an unaccustomed hour. Far and near, in the forest and in the fields along the river, people began to desert their labours and hurry towards the sound; and in Tunstall hamlet a group of poor country-folk stood wondering at the summons.

      Tunstall hamlet at that period, in the reign of old King Henry VI., wore much the same appearance as it wears to-day. A score or so of houses, heavily framed with oak, stood scattered in a long green valley ascending from the river. At the foot, the road crossed a bridge, and mounting on the other side, disappeared into the fringes of the forest on its way to the Moat House, and further forth to Holywood Abbey. Half-way up the village, the church stood among yews. On every side the slopes were crowned and the view bounded by the green elms and greening oak-trees of the forest.

      Hard by the bridge, there was a stone cross upon a knoll, and here the group had collected—half a dozen women and one tall fellow in a russet smock—discussing what the bell betided. An express had gone through the hamlet half an hour before, and drunk a pot of ale in the saddle, not daring to dismount for the hurry of his errand; but he had been ignorant himself of what was forward, and only bore sealed letters from Sir Daniel Brackley to Sir Oliver Oates, the parson, who kept the Moat House in the master’s absence.

      But now there was the noise of a horse; and soon, out of the edge of the wood and over the echoing bridge, there rode up young Master Richard Shelton, Sir Daniel’s ward. He, at the least, would know, and they hailed him and begged him to explain. He drew bridle willingly enough—a young fellow not yet eighteen, sun-browned and grey-eyed, in a jacket of deer’s leather, with a black velvet collar, a green hood upon his head, and a steel cross-bow at his back. The express, it appeared, had brought great news. A battle was impending. Sir Daniel had sent for every man that could draw a bow or carry a bill to go post-haste to Kettley, under pain of his severe displeasure; but for whom they were to fight, or of where the battle was expected, Dick knew nothing. Sir Oliver would come shortly himself, and Bennet Hatch was arming at that moment, for he it was who should lead the party.

      It is the ruin of this kind land, a woman said. If the barons live at war, ploughfolk must eat roots.

      Nay, said Dick, every man that follows shall have sixpence a day, and archers twelve.

      If they live, returned the woman, that may very well be; but how if they die, my master?

      They cannot better die than for their natural lord, said Dick.

      No natural lord of mine, said the man in the smock. I followed the Walsinghams; so we all did down Brierly way, till two years ago, come Candlemas. And now I must side with Brackley! It was the law that did it; call ye that natural? But now, what with Sir Daniel and what with Sir Oliver—that knows more of law than honesty—I have no natural lord but poor King Harry the Sixt, God bless him!—the poor innocent that cannot tell his right hand from his left.

      Ye speak with an ill tongue, friend, answered Dick, to miscall your good master and my lord the king in the same libel. But King Harry—praised be the saints!—has come again into his right mind, and will have all things peaceably ordained. And as for Sir Daniel, y’ are very brave behind his back. But I will be no tale-bearer; and let that suffice.

      I say no harm of you, Master Richard, returned the peasant. Y’ are a lad; but when ye come to a man’s inches, ye will find ye have an empty pocket. I say no more: the saints help Sir Daniel’s neighbours, and the Blessed Maid protect his wards!

      Clipsby, said Richard, you speak what I cannot hear with honour. Sir Daniel is my good master, and my guardian.

      Come, now, will ye read me a riddle? returned Clipsby. On whose side is Sir Daniel?

      I know not, said Dick, colouring a little; for his guardian had changed sides continually in the troubles of that period, and every change had brought him some increase of fortune.

      Ay, returned Clipsby, you, nor no man. For, indeed, he is one that goes to bed Lancaster and gets up York.

      Just then the bridge rang under horse-shoe iron, and the party turned and saw Bennet Hatch come galloping—a brown-faced, grizzled fellow, heavy of hand and grim of mien, armed with sword and spear, a steel salet on his head, a leather jack upon his body. He was a great man in these parts; Sir Daniel’s right hand in peace and war, and at that time, by his master’s interest, bailiff of the hundred.

      Clipsby, he shouted, off to the Moat House, and send all other laggards the same gate. Bowyer will give you jack and salet. We must ride before curfew. Look to it: he that is last at the lych-gate Sir Daniel shall reward. Look to it right well! I know you for a man of naught. Nance, he added, to one of the women, is old Appleyard up town?

      I’ll warrant you, replied the woman. In his field, for sure.

      So the group dispersed, and while Clipsby walked leisurely over the bridge, Bennet and young Shelton rode up the road together, through the village and past the church.

      Ye will see the old shrew, said Bennet. He will waste more time grumbling and prating of Harry the Fift than would serve a man to shoe a horse. And all because he has been to the French wars!

      The house to which they were bound was the last in the village, standing alone among lilacs; and beyond it, on three sides, there was open meadow rising towards the borders of the wood.

      Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and walked down the field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to where the old soldier was digging, knee-deep in his cabbages, and now and again, in a cracked voice, singing a snatch of song. He was all dressed in leather, only his hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scarlet; his face was like a walnut-shell, both for colour and wrinkles; but his old grey eye was still clear enough, and his sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf; perhaps he thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay any heed to such disturbances; but neither the surly notes of the alarm bell, nor the near approach of Bennet and the lad, appeared at all to move him; and he continued obstinately digging, and piped up, very thin and shaky:

      "Now, dear lady, if thy will be,

      I pray you that you will rue on me."

      Nick Appleyard, said Hatch, Sir Oliver commends him to you, and bids that ye shall come within this hour to the Moat House, there to take command.

      The old fellow looked up.

      Save you, my masters! he said, grinning. And where goeth Master Hatch?

      Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that we can horse, returned Bennet. There is a fight toward, it seems, and my lord stays a reinforcement.

      Ay, verily, returned Appleyard. And what will ye leave me to garrison withal?

      I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot, answered Hatch.

      It’ll not hold the place, said Appleyard; the number sufficeth not. It would take two score to make it good.

      Why, it’s for that we came to you, old shrew! replied the other. Who else is there but you that could do aught in such a house with such a garrison?

      Ay! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old shoe, returned Nick. There is not a man of you can back a horse or hold a bill; and as for archery—St. Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he would stand and let ye shoot at him for a farthen a shoot!

      Nay, Nick, there’s some can draw a good bow yet, said Bennet.

      Draw a good bow! cried Appleyard. Yes! But who’ll shoot me a good shoot? It’s there the eye comes in, and the head between your shoulders. Now, what might you call a long shoot, Bennet Hatch?

      Well, said Bennet, looking about him, it would be a long shoot from here into the forest.

      Ay, it would be a longish shoot, said the old fellow, turning to look over his shoulder; and then he put up his hand over his eyes, and stood staring.

      Why, what are you looking at? asked Bennet, with a chuckle. Do, you see Harry the Fift?

      The veteran continued looking up the hill in silence. The sun shone broadly over the shelving meadows; a few white sheep wandered browsing; all was still but the distant jangle of the bell.

      What is it, Appleyard? asked Dick.

      Why, the birds, said Appleyard.

      And, sure enough, over the top of the forest, where it ran down in a tongue among the meadows, and ended in a pair of goodly green elms, about a bowshot from the field where they were standing, a flight of birds was skimming to and fro, in evident disorder.

      What of the birds? said Bennet.

      Ay! returned Appleyard, y’ are a wise man to go to war, Master Bennet. Birds are a good sentry; in forest places they be the first line of battle. Look you, now, if we lay here in camp, there might be archers skulking down to get the wind of us; and here would you be, none the wiser!

      Why, old shrew, said Hatch, there be no men nearer us than Sir Daniel’s, at Kettley; y’ are as safe as in London Tower; and ye raise scares upon a man for a few chaffinches and sparrows!

      Hear him! grinned Appleyard. How many a rogue would give his two crop ears to have a shoot at either of us? Saint Michael, man! they hate us like two polecats!

      Well, sooth it is, they hate Sir Daniel, answered Hatch, a little sobered.

      Ay, they hate Sir Daniel, and they hate every man that serves with him, said Appleyard; and in the first order of hating, they hate Bennet Hatch and old Nicholas the bowman. See ye here: if there was a stout fellow yonder in the wood-edge, and you and I stood fair for him—as, by Saint George, we stand!—which, think ye, would he choose?

      You, for a good wager, answered Hatch.

      My surcoat to a leather belt, it would be you! cried the old archer. Ye burned Grimstone, Bennet—they’ll ne’er forgive you that, my master. And as for me, I’ll soon be in a good place, God grant, and out of bow-shoot—ay, and cannon-shoot—of all their malices. I am an old man, and draw fast to homeward, where the bed is ready. But for you, Bennet, y’ are to remain behind here at your own peril, and if ye come to my years unhanged, the old true-blue English spirit will be dead.

      Y’ are the shrewishest old dolt in Tunstall Forest, returned Hatch, visibly ruffled by these threats. Get ye to your arms before Sir Oliver come, and leave prating for one good while. An ye had talked so much with Harry the Fift, his ears would ha’ been richer than his pocket.

      An arrow sang in the air, like a huge hornet; it struck old Appleyard between the shoulder-blades, and pierced him clean through, and he fell forward on his face among the cabbages. Hatch, with a broken cry, leapt into the air; then, stooping double, he ran for the cover of the house. And in the meanwhile Dick Shelton had dropped behind a lilac, and had his crossbow bent and shouldered, covering the point of the forest.

      Not a leaf stirred. The sheep were patiently browsing; the birds had settled. But there lay the old man, with a cloth-yard arrow standing in his back; and there were Hatch holding to the gable, and Dick crouching and ready behind the lilac bush.

      D’ye see aught? cried Hatch.

      Not a twig stirs, said Dick.

      I think shame to leave him lying, said Bennet, coming forward once more with hesitating steps and a very pale countenance. Keep a good eye on the wood, Master Shelton—keep a clear eye on the wood. The saints assoil us! here was a good shoot!

      Bennet raised the old archer on his knee. He was not yet dead; his face worked, and his eyes shut and opened like machinery, and he had a most horrible, ugly look of one in pain.

      Can ye hear, old Nick? asked Hatch. Have ye a last wish before ye wend, old brother?

      Pluck out the shaft, and let me pass, a’ Mary’s name! gasped Appleyard. I be done with Old England. Pluck it out!

      Master Dick, said Bennet, come hither, and pull me a good pull upon the arrow. He would fain pass, the poor sinner.

      Dick laid down his cross-bow, and pulling hard upon the arrow, drew it forth. A gush of blood followed; the old archer scrambled half upon his feet, called once upon the name of God, and then fell dead. Hatch, upon his knees among the cabbages, prayed fervently for the welfare of the passing spirit. But even as he prayed, it was plain that his mind was still divided, and he kept ever an eye upon the corner of the wood from which the shot had come. When he had done, he got to his feet again, drew off one of his mailed gauntlets, and wiped his pale face, which was all wet with terror.

      Ay, he said, it’ll be my turn next.

      Who hath done this, Bennet? Richard asked, still holding the arrow in his hand.

      Nay, the saints know, said Hatch. Here are a good two score Christian souls that we have hunted out of house and holding, he and I. He has paid his shot, poor shrew, nor will it be long, mayhap, ere I pay mine. Sir Daniel driveth over-hard.

      This is a strange shaft, said the lad, looking at the arrow in his hand.

      Ay, by my faith! cried Bennet. Black, and black-feathered. Here is an ill-favoured shaft, by my sooth! for black, they say, bodes burial. And here be words written. Wipe the blood away. What read ye?

      "‘Appulyaird fro Jon Amend-All,’ read Shelton. What should this betoken?"

      Nay, I like it not, returned the retainer, shaking his head. John Amend-All! Here is a rogue’s name for those that be up in the world! But why stand we here to make a mark? Take him by the knees, good Master Shelton, while I lift him by the shoulders, and let us lay him in his house. This will be a rare shog to poor Sir Oliver; he will turn paper colour; he will pray like a windmill.

      They took up the old archer, and carried him between them into his house, where he had dwelt alone. And there they laid him on the floor, out of regard for the mattress, and sought, as best they might, to straighten and compose his limbs.

      Appleyard’s house was clean and bare. There was a bed, with a blue cover, a cupboard, a great chest, a pair of joint-stools, a hinged table in the chimney corner, and hung upon the wall the old soldier’s armoury of bows and defensive armour. Hatch began to look about him curiously.

      Nick had money, he said. "He may have had three score pounds put by. I would I could light upon’t! When ye lose an old friend, Master Richard, the best consolation is to heir him. See, now, this chest. I would go

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