Chapter IV

As a young gentleman of good breeding and heir to an enviable fortune, Luke Skywalker had grown accustomed to many comforts and privileges. His privacy, always dear to a brooding young man, was in all cases respected by the servants of the household. He was therefore not accustomed to being disturbed in his private bedchambers as he prepared to retire for the night. It was no surprise, therefore, that when the timid knock came at his door Luke was at first certain he had merely imagined the noise. He sighed and turned back to the window, where he had been staring at the moon with sad longing as was his habit on gloomy evenings such as these.

Within moments the knock returned again, and this time there could be no doubt as to its origin. Rising from his chair, Luke approached the door with some urgency and confusion, opening it slightly to peer out at whoever had dared to disturb his reverie.

"Master Luke!" Mr. Treypeo was pale, and he shrunk away from the door in terror. "A thousand pardons for the disturbance! Oh, please do not have me beaten, sir!"

"Don't be absurd," Luke said impatiently, "Whatever is the matter? Speak, man!"

"It's Arthur! He's run off! I think he's lost his mind, sir. I've never known him to behave in such a manner."

"Run off? You mean the fellow has gone?" Luke received this news with a frown. It would not at all be pleasant news to relate to his uncle in the morning.

"He kept babbling on about an important mission, and finding Mr. Kenobi. He took the letter with him, sir. Oh, I tried to stop him. God only knows I did my best! But he wouldn’t listen to me, sir. He scoffed at my wisdom and advice. He’s gone – quite, quite gone."

"But this is madness," Luke protested, "The outlying roads are not always safe at night. There are bandits and scoundrels and the like during the warmer months."

"Merciful heavens. He's doomed! And it is my doing! He’s always had an impetuous nature, and I should have reined him in long before now. Oh, I'm a miserable fellow. His blood is on my hands!" Mr. Treypeo raised his palms before his face, examining them with wide, horrified eyes.

"Calm yourself, or you’ll only make matters worse. I shall have to go after him.”

"I could not possibly expect a gentleman such as yourself--"

"He is my responsibility. I should have confiscated the letter and spoken to my uncle immediately. We'll take a few horses and be back before anyone knows we've gone."

"We?" Treypeo exclaimed, as he turned a brighter shade of white, "But certainly, sir, you shall find me a great nuisance? I have no great propensity for horse-riding, I assure you. Perhaps I could... I could prepare a warm meal for your return?"

"You're the only one who can understand the fellow," Luke countered, "There's no time to delay, we must after him at once." And this was exactly what they did, riding away before any of the Lars household could realize they were missing.

It is not the purpose of this narrative to describe the peculiarities of the landscape in that part of Tatooineshire. If you have never had the occasion to visit the region you may refer to one of the plentiful guidebooks printed on the subject. At present, it suffices to repeat that the lands are remote and desolate indeed, devoid of much vegetation or animal life. Even Luke, who had always called Anchorhead home, found the sight to be quite dismal as he surveyed the landscape from the back of his favorite grey stallion. The light of the moon did little to improve the scene, for there was nothing of consequence to be lit.

It did not take long to catch up to the wayward Mr. Deetoo. The sailor had taken the most direct route towards Jundland Cottage, proceeding on foot, and therefore the others were able to overtake him quite quickly on horseback. Luke berated the servant rather fiercely for this wild and unmannerly behavior, speaking much of the great danger in which he had now placed all three of them. Mr. Deetoo, for his part, did not seem the least bit ashamed in the face of this barrage. If anything, he appeared the more determined to continue on his mysterious mission. Luke insisted that the man turn back immediately, but to no avail. The insolent sailor refused to return until after his task was completed.

Luke’s grey stallion shifted nervously beneath him, and from this clue the young gentleman had his first premonition that all was not right. By the time he made out the shapes of a large group of men melting out of the darkness, he knew he had acted rashly by rushing out into the night without escort. He found suddenly that he very much regretted ever laying eyes on Treypeo or his mad sailor companion.

“Halt!” called one of the men, a leader by the looks of him. He and his men were ragged and wild, half-dressed and dirty. They grinned at the Luke and his two servants with hungry, predatory eyes. “You be trespassing, lad. There’s a gross fee for such trangessions ‘round these parts.”

The other men chuckled menacingly. They had now encircled their three victims, and for a moment young Luke thought of digging his heels into the side of his steed and attempting to escape. A single voice of reason kept him from acting on this panic-born impulse, for it was very likely that a bandit would seize him and pull him from the saddle before he could break his way through them, and then all would be lost.

“Gracious!” cried out Treypeo, “We’re doomed! Oh, please, make our deaths quick!”

Luke shot a silencing look at the manservant and drew himself up to his full height, glaring down at the men with his best imperious look. “I cannot be a trespasser on my own land,” he announced to the group of men boldly. “This territory belongs to Mr. Lars, my uncle.”

“During the day, mayhap,” the ugly man jeered, “But o’ night all we see is our’n alone. So you’ve best be handing over all ya got, lad. ”

Luke felt his fear, but fought hard not to give the scoundrel the satisfaction of seeing the signs of it on him. “What impudence!” Luke scoffed, “How thoroughly uncivilized! What is your name, fellow?”

The leader of the bandits bowed in mock civility. “The name’s Tusken, my boy, and don’t ye forget it. These be my raiders and my dear associates. Go on, lads, introduce yourselves to the boy!”

At this cue the bandits sprang into action. Luke was certain the hour of their doom was at hand. He was a gentleman’s ward, untrained in the arts of warfare at his uncle’s specific command. Mr. Treypeo could certainly provide no aid. And even Arthur Deetoo, with his rough sailor’s life behind him, could not save them from so large a number.

Precisely at the moment when Luke expected to feel the first blow from one of the ruffians, a loud blaring of a trumpet echoed through the night. At the sound, the raiders froze in shock and turned to their leader.

“Highway patrol!” the man named Tusken shouted.

“At this time of night?” replied another scoundrel, “Couldn’t be!”

“Ye want to stay and hang, ‘tis all one to me!” said the leader of the bandits as he fled into the darkness. The others followed with quick steps, looking so much like frightened children that Luke could not help but laugh. He shared a relieved smile with the two servants, and called out some choice taunts towards the backs of the fleeing men.

“To mock the weakness of others is not only rude, it is ignoble,” came a new voice, quiet and yet quite firm. Young Luke could now make out another shape in the night, a figure approaching him with swift and sure step. “It is ungentlemanly, young man. I would expect better manners from a Skywalker.”