ON THE ISLAND
I was chilled to the bone. The touch of my feet on the hard earth made
my going slow and cautious. Now and then I stubbed my toe on a sharp
stone that made me wince. But even with that I advanced in among the
trees.
My ears were keyed for the slightest sound and my eyes glanced round
with the wariness of a cat’s. I stopped once in a while to listen for
the cracking of a twig, which was the surest sign that my man was near.
I scarcely breathed. It was one step after the other, and every time I
put my foot down I felt the ground as carefully as you would with your
hand.
After a quarter of an hour I had advanced, maybe two or three hundred
paces. My eyes were so accustomed to the dark that the trunks of the
trees were dimly outlined against the background of the night. As I
peered on ahead it seemed that a faint glow of a far off light shone
like a veil through the woods. I halted. It must be my captor who by
some means that I could not puzzle out had lighted a fire.
I groped around on the ground until I found a stout stick that would
serve me as a weapon. With this firmly grasped in my hand I grew all the
bolder, so that with less caution than before I went on towards the
place where I was sure there was the light.
In another quarter of an hour I was leaning against the trunk of a tree
from which position I could plainly see the blaze. It was in the centre
of an open space in the forest, on bare hard ground covered with stones
and boulders. I wanted to make certain of myself so I moved in a broad
circle around the fire, darting a glance here, a glance there so as not
to be taken by surprise.
At length I came back to the point from where I had started. Not a soul
did I notice on my rounds. I walked in closer and closer with the club
balanced ready in my hand. I could feel the heat. The fire blazed and
shot off sparks high into the branches of the trees. Then at last I was
able to spy the form of a man sitting on a rock. He had a long stick
with which he was stirring up the embers. He seemed to be without a care
in the world, but what amazed me most was that he was not naked, as I
expected my captor to be, but fully clothed.
From where I was, of course, I saw him only dimly. I watched him for a
long while toying with the fire as idly as a child. Then he rose and
moved towards the left, for the smoke was floating in his face. He must
have been blinded for the moment, for he put his fist in his eyes to rub
them.
I was trembling with anxiety. I gave one more glance about in every
direction. Suddenly I noticed a form—the naked figure of a man—crawling
on his hands and knees from out the fringe of woods. He had a club
bigger and heavier than my own, which he pushed before him on the
ground. Like a flash he straightened himself. The man who was fully clad
had his back to him and was still rubbing his eyes. It was my captor,
who now began to run forward like an animal eager to fell its prey. He
lifted the club high over his head. His eyes shone with savage eagerness
in the light of the fire and a grin of victory spread over his
countenance.
For a second I was paralyzed with fright. Then I collected myself. I
cast all caution aside and ran likewise out of the woods. Just as the
club was poised in the air ready to fall I called out in a terrified
voice the words, “Look out!”
My voice was pitched high and resounded in the silence of the woods like
the crack of a crashing thunderbolt.
The man who was clad jumped as though he had been stuck with a spear and
edged off to one side. The club came down. It was a little beside its
mark, but even then it struck the man on the side and knocked the breath
out of him so that he fell in pain to the ground.
I had betrayed myself to my captor. He had heard my voice and turned. I
was coming up at full speed with my staff high in the air. I did not
hesitate. With a swinging motion, before he could right himself, I
caught him as hard a blow as I could deal and sent him face down
sprawling in the dirt.
I had no time to lose. My captor would soon struggle to his feet. I knew
I was no match for him in a hand-to-hand combat. I would have to have
aid. So I went over to the man whom he had knocked senseless and caught
him by the shoulder. I shook him to bring him the more quickly to his
senses. I turned him over so that I could see his face. Then I let out a
gasp that shook me from my heels to my head. Never in the whole course
of my life was I more amazed for there before me on the ground was the
lad I had come so far to seek, the son of the old Count of Gramont,
Charles!
With my heart thumping like a hammer, I did all in my power to bring him
around. I chafed his hands and temples. I took him under the arm-pits
and lifted him to his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was a look
of terror in them first. Then he blinked. It was as though he could
hardly trust his senses. He grasped me by the shoulder. He took in a
deep breath. A smile of recognition played about his face and I knew
that he understood.
“Quick!” I whispered, and pointed to my captor who was now raising
himself on one arm.
In a second he threw off his stupor. He ran back to the fire and seized
a length of a limb of a tree which he could use as a weapon against his
savage foe.
It was none too soon. The fellow had the strength and vitality of an ox.
He scrambled to his feet even while Charles was picking up the stick.
With his big body swinging from side to side he came running with his
arms outstretched like a bear. Charles brought his weapon down. It was a
heavy blow, but the fellow caught it on his arm and it glanced off as
lightly as if it were against the trunk of a tree. Then with a murmur of
hate he rushed in.
You may suppose that I was not standing there in idleness. As soon as I
saw what was happening, I wrapped my fist about my club. I knew that the
first blow would be my last. I put every speck of strength in it and
made the aim as accurate as my haste would allow. To my joy I met the
fellow along the crown of the head. The jar of it shot along the bone of
my arm that I thought it was broken. But my victim reeled. His knees
sagged and shook. His mouth opened and his eyes turned upward, showing
all their white. Like a weight that was suddenly let drop he fell in a
heap on the ground.
He was as good as dead. I gave a sign to Charles to give me a hand.
Between the two of us we dragged and carried him to the side of the
island. There we laid him down until he showed by the blinking of his
eyes that he was regaining his senses. When his strength had come back
so that he was able to stir, we took him under the arms and the crooks
of his legs and heaved him into the river as far as we could swing him.
“He’ll waken as soon as he touches the water,” said Charles.
“What then?” I asked. “Will he come back?”
He shook his head.
“No. He’ll go for help. He knows me. He was one of the men who brought
me down the valley of the Loire. He’ll come again tomorrow with others.”
“We’ll have to get away from here.”
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “We can rest here till dawn.”
“I’m chilled through,” I said, “That fellow has left his clothes lying
here somewhere. I’ll dry them and put them on. After that we can sit by
the fire.” Charles took me by the shoulder. “Ah, Henri!” he said in a
shaking voice. “We’ll battle it through together, you and I. And we’ll
win yet!”
We sat by the fire, with each of us telling of his adventures, till far
into the night. Then in turns we lay down on a couch of twigs and leaves
that Charles had built for himself in the hollow of an overhanging rock.
In the morning I had new life. We went down to a cove on the side of the
island where Charles had a boat fastened and hidden among the roots of
overhanging trees. It was the one, he explained, that my captor had
searched for to carry us across the river.
We landed on the other bank and stepped ashore. We went up the steep
bank as far as the brow of a hill. The whole country,—wooded and
wild,—stretched before us. Whether we would come upon friend or enemy we
had yet to learn. We turned and looked back at the river winding in long
slow curves at our feet. We saw the island in all its outline as green
and peaceful as you could wish.
My eye was caught by an object moving on the opposite shore. When my
gaze grew accustomed to the distance I counted six men. Some of them
were armed with bows and arrows. The rest were cutting down young trees
and dragging them to the river. Now and then I saw the flash of a
sword-blade in the light of the sun.
There was no doubt of it. Our enemies were on foot. They were building a
raft to carry armed men over to the island. They would search it from
end to end. When they learned that we were gone, they would make for our
side of the stream. They would leave no stone unturned to find us. They
would examine every blade of grass for traces of us. They would be on
our heels like hounds. We were in a country that was unknown to us,
while they were as familiar with it as I was with my own.
The Black Prince with his army lay twenty or at most thirty leagues to
the west. I had information that would save them. One thought drove us
headlong on and on—if our enemies should come upon us, there would be no
parleying or hesitation. They would shoot us down like dogs.