THE MEETING
Only four or five men, besides themselves, were left in the great room
of the Inn of the Eagle. The looks they gave the three were not hostile,
and Robert judged that they belonged to the party known in Quebec as
honnêtes gens and described to him already by de Galisonnière. He
thought once of speaking to them, but he decided not to put any strain
upon their friendliness. They might have very bitter feelings against
Bigot and his corrupt following, but the fact would not of necessity
induce them to help the Bostonnais.
"I thought it would be best to go to bed," he said, "but I've changed my
mind. A little walk first in the open air would be good for all of us.
Besides we must stay up long enough to receive the seconds of de Mézy."
"A walk would be a good thing for you," said Willet--it was noteworthy
that despite his great affection for the lad, he did not show any
anxiety about him.
"Your wrist feels as strong as ever, doesn't it, Robert?" he asked.
Young Lennox took his right wrist in his left hand and looked at it
thoughtfully. He was a tall youth, built powerfully, but his wrists were
of uncommon size and strength.
"I suppose that paddling canoes during one's formative period over our
lakes and rivers develops the wrists and arms better than anything else
can," he said.
"It makes them strong and supple, too," said the hunter. "It gives to
you a wonderful knack which with training can be applied with equal
ability to something else."
"As we know."
"As we know."
They went out and walked a little while in the streets, curious eyes
still following them, a fact of which they were well aware, although
they apparently took no notice of it. Willet observed Robert closely,
but he could not see any sign of unsteadiness or excitement. Young
Lennox himself seemed to have forgotten the serious business that would
be on hand in the morning. His heart again beat a response to Quebec
which in the dusk was magnificent and glorified. The stone buildings
rose to the size of castles, the great river showed like silver through
the darkness and on the far shore a single light burned.
A figure appeared before them. It was de Galisonnière, his ruddy face
anxious.
"I was hoping that we might meet you," said Robert.
"What's this I hear about a quarrel between you and de Mézy and a duel
in the morning?"
"You hear the truth."
"But de Mézy, though he is no friend of mine, is a swordsman, and has
had plenty of experience. You English, or at least you English in your
colonies, know nothing about the sword, except to wear it as a
decoration!"
Robert laughed.
"I appreciate your anxiety for me," he said. "It's the feeling of a
friend, but don't worry. A few of us in the English colonies do know the
use of the sword, and at the very head of them I should place David
Willet, whom you know and who is with us."
"But de Mézy is not going to fight Willet, he is going to fight you."
"David Willet has been a father to me, more, in truth, than most fathers
are to their sons. I've been with him for years, Captain de
Galisonnière, and all the useful arts he knows he has tried long and
continuously to teach to me."
"Then you mean that the sword you now wear at your thigh is a weapon and
not an ornament?"
"Primarily, yes, but before we go further into the matter of the sword,
I wish to ask you a favor."
"Ask a dozen, Lennox. We've been companions of the voyage and your
quarrel with de Mézy does not arouse any hostility in me."
"I felt that it was so, and for that reason I ask the favor. We are
strangers in Quebec. We did not come here to seek trouble with anybody,
and so I ask you to be a second for me in this affair with de Mézy. Dave
and Tayoga, of course, would act, but at the present juncture, ours
being an errand of peace and not of war, I'd prefer Frenchmen."
"Gladly I'll serve you, Lennox, since you indicate that you're a
swordsman and are not going to certain death, and I'll bring with me in
the morning a trusty friend, Armand Glandelet, one of our _honnêtes
gens_ who likes de Mézy as little as I do."
"I thank you much, my good friend. I knew you would accept, and if all
are willing I suggest that we go back now to the Inn of the Eagle."
"A little trial of the sword in your room would not hurt," said de
Galisonnière.
"That's a good suggestion," said Willet. "A few turns will show whether
your wrists and your arms and your back are all right. You come with us,
of course, Captain de Galisonnière."
They went to their large room, Captain de Galisonnière procuring on the
way two buttons for rapiers from Monsieur Berryer--it seemed that duels
were not uncommon in Quebec--and Willet and Robert, taking off their
coats and waistcoats, faced each other in the light of two large
candles. The young Frenchman watched them critically. He had assisted at
many affairs of honor in both Quebec and Montreal and he knew the build
of a swordsman when he saw one. When Robert stood in his shirt sleeves
he noted his powerful chest and shoulders and arms, and then his eyes
traveling to the marvelous wrists were arrested there. He drew in his
breath as he saw, from the way in which Robert flexed them for a moment
or two that they were like wrought steel.
"If this lad has been taught as they indicate he has, our ruffling
bully, Jean de Mézy, is in for a bad half hour," he said to himself.
Then he looked at Willet, built heavily, with great shoulders and chest,
but with all the spring and activity of a young man. His glance passed
on to Tayoga, the young Onondaga, in all the splendor of his forest
attire, standing by the wall, his eyes calm and fathomless. It occurred
all at once to Captain de Galisonnière that he was in the presence of an
extraordinary three, each remarkable in his own way, and, liking the
unusual, his interest in them deepened. It did not matter that they were
his official enemies, because on the other hand they were his personal
friends.
"Now, Robert," said Willet, "watch my eye, because I'm going to put you
to a severe test. Ready?"
"Aye, ready, sir!" replied Robert, speaking like a pupil to his master.
Then the two advanced toward the center of the room and faced each
other, raising their slim swords which flashed in the flame of the
candles like thin lines of light. Then Willet thrust like lightning, but
his blade slipped off Robert's, and young Lennox thrust back only to
have his own weapon caught on the other.
"Ah," exclaimed the gallant Frenchman. "Well done! Well done for both!"
Then he held his breath as the play of the swords became so fast that
the eye could scarcely follow. They made vivid lines, and steel flashed
upon steel with such speed that at times the ringing sound seemed
continuous. Willet's agility was amazing. Despite his size and weight
he was as swift and graceful as a dancing master, and the power of his
wrist was wonderful. The amazement of young de Galisonnière increased.
He had seen the best swordsmanship in Quebec, and he had seen the best
swordsmanship in Paris, but he had never seen better swordsmanship than
that shown in a room of the Inn of the Eagle by a man whom he had taken
to be a mere hunter in the American wilderness.
De Galisonnière was an artist with the sword himself, and he knew
swordsmanship when he saw it. He knew, too, that Lennox was but little
inferior to Willet. He saw that the older man was not sparing the youth,
that he was incessantly beating against the strongest parts of his
defense, and that he was continually seeking out his weakest. Robert was
driven around and around the room, and yet Willet did not once break
through his guard.
"Ah, beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know
that such swordsmen could come out of the woods!"
His eyes met those of the Onondaga and for the first time he saw a gleam
in their dark depths.
"Their swords are alive," said Tayoga. "They are living streaks of
flame."
"That describes it, my friend," said de Galisonnière. "I shall be proud
to be one of the seconds of Mr. Lennox in the morning."
Willet suddenly dropped the buttoned point of his rapier and raised his
left hand.
"Enough, Robert," he said, "I can't allow you to tire yourself tonight,
and run the risk of stiffening in the wrist tomorrow. In strength you
are superior to de Mézy, and in wind far better. You should have no
trouble with him. Watch his eye and stand for a while on the defensive.
One of his habits, will soon wear himself down, and then he will be at
your mercy."
"You are a wonderful swordsman, Mr. Willet," said de Galisonnière, frank
in his admiration. "I did not think such skill, such power and such a
variety in attack and defense could be learned outside of Paris."
"Perhaps not!" said Willet, smiling. "The greatest masters of the sword
in the world teach in Paris, and it was there that I learned what I
know."
"What, you have been in Paris?"
"Aye, Captain de Galisonnière, I know my Paris well."
But he volunteered nothing further and Louis de Galisonnière's delicacy
kept him from asking any more questions. Nevertheless he had an
intensified conviction that three most extraordinary people had come to
Quebec, and he was glad to know them. Jean de Mézy, count of France, and
powerful man though he might be, was going to receive a punishment
richly deserved. He detested Bigot, Cadet, Pean and all their corrupt
crowd, while recognizing the fact that they were almost supreme in
Quebec. It would be pleasing to the gods for de Mézy to be humiliated,
and it did not matter if the humiliation came from the hands of a
Bostonnais.
"Would you mind trying a round or two at the foils with me?" he said to
Willet. "Since you don't have to fight in the morning you needn't fear
any stiffening of the wrist, and I should like to learn something about
that low thrust of yours, the one well beneath your opponent's guard,
and which only a movement like lightning can reach. You used it five
times, unless my eye missed a sixth."
"And so you noticed it!" said Willet, looking pleased. "I made six such
thrusts, but Robert met them every time. I've trained him to be on the
watch for it, because in a real combat it's sure to be fatal, unless
it's parried with the swiftness of thought."
"Then teach me," said de Galisonnière eagerly. "We're a fighting lot
here in Quebec, and it may save my life some day."
Willet was not at all averse, and for nearly an hour he taught the young
Frenchman. Then de Galisonnière departed, cautioning Robert to sleep
well, and saying that he would come early in the morning with his
friend, Glandelet.
"His advice about sleeping was good, Robert," said Willet. "Now roll
into bed and off with you to slumberland at once."
Robert obeyed and his nerves were so steady and his mind so thoroughly
at peace that in fifteen minutes he slept. The hunter watched his steady
breathing with satisfaction and said to Tayoga:
"If our bibulous friend, Count Jean de Mézy, doesn't have a surprise in
the morning, then I'll go back to the woods, and stay there as long as I
live."
"Will Lennox kill him?" asked Tayoga.
"I hadn't thought much about it, Tayoga, but he won't kill him. Robert
isn't sanguinary. He doesn't want anybody's blood on his hands, and it
wouldn't help our mission to take a life in Quebec."
"The man de Mézy does not deserve to live."
Willet laughed.
"That's so, Tayoga," he said, "but it's no part of our business to go
around taking the lives away from all those who don't make good use of
'em. Why, if we undertook such a job we'd have to work hard for the next
thousand years. I think we'd better fall on, ourselves, and snatch about
eight good hours of slumber."
In a few minutes three instead of one slept, and when the first ray of
sunlight entered the room in the morning Tayoga awoke. He opened the
window, letting the fresh air pour in, and he raised his nostrils to it
like a hound that has caught the scent. It brought to him the aromatic
odors of his beloved wilderness, and, for a time, he was back in the
great land of the Hodenosaunee among the blue lakes and the silver
streams. He had been educated in the white man's schools, and his
friendship for Robert and Willet was strong and enduring, but his heart
was in the forest. Enlightened and humane, he had nevertheless asked
seriously the night before the question: "Will Lennox kill him?" He had
discovered something fetid in Quebec and to him de Mézy was a noxious
animal that should be destroyed. He wished, for an instant, that he knew
the sword and that he was going to stand in Lennox's place.
Then he woke Robert and Willet, and they dressed quickly, but by the
time they had finished Monsieur Berryer knocked on the door and told
them breakfast was ready. The innkeeper's manner was flurried. He was
one of the _honnêtes gens_ who liked peace and an upright life. He too
wished the insolent pride of de Mézy to be humbled, but he had scarcely
come to the point where he wanted to see a Bostonnais do it. Nor did he
believe that it could be done. De Mézy was a good swordsman, and his
friends would see that he was in proper condition. Weighing the matter
well, Monsieur Berryer was, on the whole, sorry for the young stranger.
But Robert himself showed no apprehensions. He ate his excellent
breakfast with an equally excellent appetite, and Monsieur Berryer
noticed that his hand did not tremble. He observed, too, that he had
spirit enough to talk and laugh with his friends, and when Captain de
Galisonnière and another young Frenchman, Lieutenant Armand Glandelet,
arrived, he welcomed them warmly.
The captain carried under his arm a long thin case, in which Monsieur
Berryer knew that the swords lay. Lieutenant Armand Glandelet was
presented duly and Robert liked his appearance, his age apparently
twenty-three or four, his complexion fair and his figure slender. His
experience in affairs of honor was not as great as de Galisonnière's,
and he showed some excitement, but he was one of the _honnêtes gens_ and
he too wished, the punishment of de Mézy. Perhaps he had suffered from
him some insult or snub which he was not in a position to resent fully.
"Is your wrist strong and steady and without soreness, Mr. Lennox?"
asked Captain de Galisonnière.
"It was never more flexible," replied Robert confidently. "Shall we go
to the field? I should like to be there first."
"A praiseworthy attitude," said Captain de Galisonnière. "The sun is
just rising and the light is good. Come."
Keeping the long, thin case under his arm, he went forth, and the rest
followed. Monsieur Berryer also came at a respectful distance, and
others fell into line with him. Robert walked by the side of Willet.
"Don't forget that low thrust," said the hunter, "and watch his eye. You
feel no apprehensions?"
"None at all, thanks to you. I'm quite sure I'm his master."
"Then it's a good morning for a fight, and the setting is perfect.
You'll remember this day, Robert. What a wonderful situation has the
Quebec of the French that was the Stadacona of the Mohawks! A fine town,
a great rock and the king of rivers! The St. Lawrence looks golden in
the early sunlight, and what a lot of it there is!"
"Yes, it's a great stream," said Robert, looking at the golden river and
the far shores, green and high.
"Here we are," said de Galisonnière, passing beyond some outlying
houses. "It's a good, clear opening, pretty well surrounded by trees,
with plenty of sunlight at all points, and as you wished, Mr. Lennox,
we're the first to arrive."
They stood together, talking with apparent unconcern, while the morning
unfolded, and the golden sunlight over the river deepened. Although he
had been trained with the sword for years, it would be Robert's first
duel, and, while he approached it with supreme confidence, he knew that
he could find no joy in the shedding of another's blood. He felt it a
strange chance that such an affair should be forced upon him, and yet
this was a dueling city. The hot young spirits of France had brought
their customs with them into the North American wilderness, and perhaps
the unsought chance, if he used it as he thought he could, would not
serve him so ill after all.
De Mézy, with his seconds, Nemours and Le Moyne, was approaching among
the trees. It appeared that the seconds for both had arranged everything
at a meeting the night before, and nothing was left for the two
principals but to fight. Robert saw at a single glance that de Mézy's
head was clear. Some of the mottled color had left his cheeks, but the
effect was an improvement, and he bore himself like a man who was strong
and confident. He and his seconds wore dark blue cloaks over their
uniforms, which they laid aside when they saw that Robert and his
friends were present.
Nemours stepped forward and asked to speak with Captain de Galisonnière.
"Count Jean de Mézy," he said, "is an experienced swordsman, a victor in
a dozen duels, a man of great skill, and he does not wish to take an
advantage that might seem unfair to others. He considers the extreme
youth of his opponent, and if by chance his friend, Mr. Willet, should
know the sword, he will meet him instead."
It was, on the whole, a handsome offer, better than they had expected
from de Mézy, and Galisonnière looked with inquiry, first at young
Lennox and then at Willet. But Robert shook his head.
"No," he said, "Captain de Mézy's offer does him credit, but I decline
it. I am his inferior in years, but his equal in stature and strength,
and I have had some experience with the sword. Mr. Willet would gladly
take my place, but I can support the combat myself."
Nemours stepped back, and Robert resolved that de Mézy's offer should
not have been made wholly in vain. It would save the Frenchman some of
his blood, but Nemours and de Galisonnière were now choosing the
positions in such a manner that neither would have the sun in his eyes
but merely his shoulder against the disc. Robert took off his coat and
waistcoat and Willet folded them over his own arm. De Mézy prepared in
like manner. Nemours gazed at young Lennox's shoulders and arms, and the
muscles swelling beneath his thin shirt, and he was not quite so sure of
his principal's victory as he had been.
Then the two faced each other and Robert looked straight into his
opponent's eyes, reading there the proof that while outwardly de Mézy
might now show no signs of dissipation, yet drink and lost hours had
struck a blow at the vital organism of the human machine. He was more
confident than ever, and he repeated to himself Willet's advice to be
cautious and slow at first.
"Your positions, gentlemen!" said de Galisonnière, and they stood face
to face. The turf was short and firm, and the place was ideal for their
purpose. Among the trees the eager eyes of Monsieur Berryer and a score
of others watched.
"Ready!" said de Galisonnière, and then, after a pause of two or three
moments, he added:
"Proceed!"
Robert had not looked straight into his opponent's eye so long for
nothing. He knew now that de Mézy was choleric and impatient, that he
would attack at once with a vigorous arm and a furious heart, expecting
a quick and easy victory. His reading of the mind through the eye was
vindicated as de Mézy immediately forced the combat, cutting and
thrusting with a fire and power that would have overwhelmed an ordinary
opponent.
Robert smiled. He knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was de
Mézy's master. Not in vain did he have those large and powerful wrists,
firm and strong as wrought steel, and not in vain had he been taught for
years by the best swordsman in America. He contented himself with
parrying the savage cuts and thrusts, and gave ground slowly, retreating
in a circle. De Mézy's eyes blazed at first with triumph. He had
resented Robert's refusal of his offer to substitute Willet, and now,
the victory which he had regarded as easy seemed to be even easier than
he had hoped. He pushed the combat harder. His sword flashed in a
continuous line of light, and the whirring of steel upon steel was
unceasing. But the face of Nemours, as he watched with an understanding
eye, fell a little. He saw that the breathing of young Lennox was long
and regular, and that his eye was still smiling.
Robert continued to give ground, but he never took his eye from that of
de Mézy, and at last the count began to feel that something lay behind
that calm, smiling gaze. The drink and the multitude of lost hours came
back to demand their price. Something bit into his bone. Was it physical
weakness or a sudden decay of confidence? He did not see any sign of
weariness in his young opponent, and putting forth every effort of his
muscles and every trick and device he knew he could not break through
that shining guard of circling steel.
The strange apprehension that had suddenly found a place in de Mézy's
mind began to grow. The slow retreat of his young antagonist was
becoming slower and then it ceased entirely. Now the leaping sword
before him began to drive him back, and always the calm smiling eyes
probed into his, reading what he would keep hidden deep in his heart.
They saw the terror that was growing there. The disbelief in his
antagonist's prowess was now fast turning into a hideous contradiction,
and all the while drink and the lost hours that had clamored for their
price were taking it.
De Mézy began to give back. His breath grew shorter and he gasped. The
deep mottled red returned to his cheeks, and terror took whole
possession of him. He had struck down his man before and he had laughed,
but he had never faced such a swordsman as this strange youth of the
woods, with his smiling eyes and his face which was a mask despite the
smile.
Nemours and Le Moyne turned pale. They saw that their leader had never
once passed the bar of steel before him, and that while he panted and
grew weary Lennox seemed stronger than ever. They saw, too, that the
youth was a swordsman far surpassing de Mézy and that now he was playing
with his enemy. He struck down his opponent's guard at will, and his
blade whistled about his body and face. Nemours' hand fell to his own
hilt, but the watchful Willet saw.
"Be careful," the hunter said in a menacing tone. "Obey the rules or
I'll know the reason why."
Nemours' hand fell away from the hilt, and he and Le Moyne exchanged
glances, but stood helpless. De Mézy had been driven backward in an
almost complete circle. His wrist and arm ached to the shoulder, and
always he saw before him the leaping steel and the smiling mask of a
face. He caught a glimpse of the blue sky and the shining river, and
then his eyes came back to the one that held his fate. Well for de Mézy
that he had made the offer that morning to substitute Willet for Lennox,
since youth, with the hot blood of battle pulsing in its veins, may
think too late of mercy. But Robert remembered. His revenge was already
complete. All had seen the pallid face of de Mézy, and all, whether
they knew anything of the sword or not, knew that he lay at the mercy of
his foe.
"Strike and make an end!" gasped de Mézy.
The sword flashed before his eyes again, but the blade did not touch
him. Instead his own sword was torn from his weakening grasp, and was
flung far upon the grass. Young Lennox, turning away, sheathed his
weapon.
"Well done, Robert!" said Willet.
De Mézy put his hand to his face, which was wet with perspiration, and
steadied himself. He had grown quite dizzy in the last few moments, and
the pulses in his head beat so heavily that he could neither see nor
think well. He was conscious that he stood unarmed before a victorious
foe, but he did not know Robert had put away his sword.
"Why don't you strike?" he muttered.
"Mr. Lennox is satisfied," said Nemours. "He does not wish the combat to
go further."
"Unless Captain de Mézy insists on another trial," said de Galisonnière,
smiling a little, "but if he will take the advice of a countryman of his
he will let the matter rest where it is. Enough has been done to satisfy
the honor of everybody."
He and Nemours exchanged significant glances. It was quite evident to de
Mézy's seconds that he was no match for Robert, and that another trial
would probably result in greater disaster, so Nemours and Le Moyne, in
behalf of their principal, promptly announced that they were satisfied,
and de Galisonnière and Glandelet said as much for theirs. Meanwhile
Monsieur Berryer and the other spectators, who had now risen to the
number of two score, continued to watch from the shelter of the trees.
They had seen the result with protruding eyes, but they had not
understood when the young victor thrust his sword back in its sheath.
They could not hear the talk, but it was quite clear that the duel was
over, and they turned away, somewhat disappointed that one of their own
had lost the combat, but somewhat pleased, too, that he had not lost his
own life at the same time.
"Shake hands, gentlemen," said de Galisonnière blithely. "Although no
blood was shed it was a hot battle and I hope when you two meet again it
will be in friendship and not in enmity. You are a fine swordsman,
Lennox, and it was honorable of you, de Mézy, when you didn't know his
caliber, to offer to take on, because of his youth, the older man, Mr.
Willet."
Robert came back and offered his hand frankly. De Mézy, whose head was
still ringing from his uncommon exertions and chagrin, took it. It was
bitter to have lost, but he still lived. In a manner as he saw it, he
had been disgraced, but time and the red wine and the white would take
away the sting. He still lived. That was the grand and beautiful fact.
Many more joyous days and nights awaited him in the company of Bigot and
Cadet and Pean, powerful men who knew how to exercise their power and
how to live at the same time. He should be grateful for a little while,
at least, to the young Bostonnais, and he shook the proffered hand as
heartily as his own damp, limp fingers would admit.
"May your stay in Quebec be as pleasant as you wish," he said, a bit
thickly.
"Thanks," said Robert, who read the man's mind thoroughly.
De Galisonnière put away the unstained swords, quite satisfied with the
affair, himself and everybody. An important follower of Bigot had been
humbled, and yet he had not suffered in such a manner that he could call
for the punishment of the one who had humbled him. The very youth of the
Bostonnais would disarm resentment against him.
De Mézy's party with formal bows drew away, and Robert and his friends
returned to the Inn of the Eagle.