"No," said he, "I came not out to seek reward," and verily his honest
face upheld the statement. "I came to warn thee, save thee from a
peril, and having done so I am mightily content; while if you slay this
fellow my reward is great indeed."
"Be sure my best endeavour shall go to that end," said I: "but still, a
bargain is a bargain. Therefore, I pray you, take this money."
At first he would not; but after much pressing I contrived to give him
two gold pieces, for the which his thanks were fervid.
"And now I must be riding back again ere I be missed," said he.
"Besides, there is this horse which I have borrowed----"
"Or stolen, which?" I asked maliciously.
"Nay, friend, you said that sorry business was now clean forgiven and
forgotten."
"And so it is," I answered laughing. "But, say, before you go, hast any
news for me from Lyme?"
"Aye, plenty. Old Dare was slain last night by Fletcher of Saltoun. A
pretty brawl, 'tis said, about a horse. And Fletcher hath been sent a
prisoner to the ship. Thus lose we two good men at once. A grievous
loss, indeed."
"Yes, true. I heard of it," said I. "And hath aught else been
forward?"
"Yes. Three of our men have been slain on the shore nigh Charmouth."
Again this was no news to me; yet I contrived to say, surprisedly:
"Ah, so! By whom?"
"I know not," answered Coram; "there is some mystery about the matter,
but they were slain by sword, and that by one who knew his business
well, according to report."
"Well, well," I murmured, "such is war. But, say, how went it with the
fight at Bridport?"
"Ill enough for us. Our men were beaten back by the militia. They fled
like frightened sheep, and 'tis whispered that my Lord Grey was the
worst of all; 'tis said he ne'er drew rein till safe in Lyme again.
"Now, by my life, that was a bad beginning, sure enough!"
"Aye, verily, yet scarce a thing to marvel at, for, look you, how can
untrained ploughboys and the like expect to stand an onslaught e'en
though it be but that of rough militiamen?"
"Ah, how indeed?" I murmured. "And know you when the Duke rides forth
from Lyme?"
"Nay, that I don't, nor, as it seems to me, doth anyone for certain.
Some say to-morrow, others Monday. Yet still they dally, signing on
fresh men."
"Ah, they still come in to join, then?"
"Aye, that they do--by hundreds; but, oh, such lumbering louts! Save
me, if we should not do as well with cows and sheep. And now, to make
it worse, we've lost Old Dare and Fletcher. Faith, but I like it less
each day, and were it not for Ferguson, Duke Monmouth's cause might
whistle for John Coram."
"Ah, so Ferguson doth count for much," I murmured, stroking Kitty's neck
to hide my face.
"Yea, much indeed," quoth Coram warmly. "He is a leader born--a man of
parts withal; but surely, friend, you know 'tis so as well as I," he
added with a searching look, "for have you not had pressing business
with our godly chaplain?"
"Yes, by my life I have, and have it still," I answered. "I ride upon
it now."
"Another reason why I should not tarry, then," said Coram. "And so
farewell, friend. Have a care of Stark, and make sure to kill him if
you get the chance."
"Be sure of that," said I.
"My blessing on it," answered Coram fervently, and with that cantered
off. At the bending of the lane he turned and waved a hand. I answered
with a will, then also sped upon my way, though with a watchful eye for
every tree and bush.
*CHAPTER XIX*
*The Affair at the Barn*
As the day grew older and a blazing sun climbed up behind me the heat
upon my back became wellnigh unbearable, and a decorous walk was all
that Kitty made of it, nor did I wish for more. I was well ahead of
Monmouth--therefore of friend Ferguson--and could bide my time.
As I passed along the shady lanes thus leisurely, you may be sure I had
continual thought for Tubal Ammon, and when the sound of beast or bird
disturbed the leafy silence, my eyes and ears were swiftly turned in
that direction. But no harm came of it, and beyond some honest farm
hands, who, too wise to change scythe for sword, were laying low the
tall, rich grass with measured swing and swish, I chanced on no one.
Doubtless the chief reason of this was that, both for purposes of shade
and solitude, I kept to bypaths and eschewed the highway. Also, I
strove to keep as near the sea as possible, in order that what little
breeze there was therefrom might make things more endurable.
But such slow, winding methods take much time, and so, what with that
and many stoppages for Kitty's sake, 'twas close on noon ere we had put,
maybe, twenty miles behind us, which, reckoning for byways, was little
more than half the distance to be covered.
The sun was now at its meridian, and beating down upon us with a fiery
heat which threatened danger to my mare, if not to me, for we had now
drawn clear of sheltering lanes and come out on a stretch of treeless
moorland which ran for miles along the coast. Here the hot air fairly
danced above the scorched-up grass and bushes, and naught was to be
heard except the languid hum of bees among the gorse. The very sea
seemed hushed to languorous silence.
To press on in such a state were cruelty to man and beast, therefore I
called a halt and looked about me for some shady place in which to rest.
But this was easier sought than found. As far as eye could reach, the
barren moor rolled on beneath the shimmering heat, with nothing taller
than a stunted thorn bush visible.
As I sat gazing wearily upon this arid sight, while Kitty pawed the turf
impatiently and cursed distracting flies (so far as horse was able) with
her ears and tail, I saw, far off, a man dart straight across the track
and disappear as though the earth had swallowed him, upon the other
side.
So quickly had he vanished in a place thus bare of cover that I watched
the spot expectantly with shaded eyes, feeling certain he must come to
view again. But nothing came of it; indeed, it might have been a rabbit
which had gone to earth for any more I saw of him.
This was strange and puzzling beyond measure, and, sun or no sun, must
be enquired into. So, marking down the spot, I urged Kitty to a canter
and soon reached it. Then that which from a distance had been so
mysterious was instantly made plain. A high bank on the left was here
divided by a deeply-rutted, and, by the look of it, now unused lane
which wound down through a maze of bushes to the sea; and doubtless it
was this which had thus swallowed up the flitting figure.
So far so good; but having proved the manner of his disappearance I was
minded to explore the matter further.
With this intent I turned my mare into the cutting and rode slowly down
the winding track. On either side of me there was a tangle of thick
scrub, and on this I kept a ready eye, for a bullet or a poisoned arrow
might well prove deadly at so short a range. But nothing stirred, and so
at last I came out upon a wide expanse of utter desolation. It was as
though the land had slid down seaward and there broken out again in such
an uncouth medley of rank, twisted growth as seemed to be scarce
English. 'Twas chaos, with the rock-strewn shore beyond.
Who could it be that, flashing as it were from space across my path, had
sped to this wild, lonesome place and vanished in its dreary solitude?
Ah, who? As I put the question to myself I swept the dreary waste with
anxious eyes and thought uneasily of Coram's warning.
My vision of the man had been so sudden and his flight across the path
so swift and stoat-like, that, at such a distance, I had been able to
make nothing of him. Nor did he now vouchsafe to help me by discovering
himself to my enquiring gaze. Not he. Sun-loving insects hummed amid
the stifling heat, a dragon-fly hung poised above a bush--a thing of
glorious blue--a gull screamed high aloft, while here and there the
twittering of tongue-parched birds broke forth in sleepy fashion. But
these were the only signs of life; no human being showed himself; my man
had vanished like a dream.
What then? To hunt for him among that tangled wilderness in such a
blazing heat were folly worse confounded, for, to begin with, I must do
the thing on foot--a weary, hopeless task indeed, and risky also if the
object of my search were armed with pistol and a bad intention. Yes,
there seemed nothing for it but to let the mystery go unsolved, and
leave the haunter of this desolation lurking in his hiding-place.
Reluctantly, and not without misgiving, I turned and rode back through
the opening to the moor, still musing wonderingly on that which lay
behind me. But such thoughts, pressing as they were, gave way at last
before my former keen desire for shade. And this time fortune favoured
me, for, having ridden on another quarter of a mile or so I saw, not far
away, an old grey barn tucked snugly up against the bank, with bushes
overshadowing it. What could be better for our sweating needs?
A minute later we were up with it. The entrance lay upon the other
side--that is, the shady side--and here a stout oak door hung idly open,
thus inviting entrance. How came this stony friend in such a wild
deserted spot as that? I could not tell--nor did I care; but verily it
was as welcome as an oasis amid the desert. With a blessing on its
unknown builder, I dismounted and led Kitty in.
The place was sweet and clean, and thickly carpeted with well-dried
bracken, while a gentle sea-breeze found its way inside, thus adding to
a most refreshing coolness.
Small wonder that my pretty mare let go a gladsome neigh and rubbed her
velvet muzzle on my shoulder. Doubtless she looked upon our new-found
quarters as a stable. Having first eased her girths I looked around for
water. This I found not far away--a bubbling stream amid the rocks.
When poor thirsty Kitty had refreshed herself thereat I led her back to
the barn and put her nose-bag on. Then I fell to with a will upon the
food that old Anne's forethought had provided. And so, while Kitty
munched her oats, I ate my bread and cheese and pasty and drank my wine,
and each of us was mightily content. After this refreshment, being
wondrous sleepy, I decided to remain there till the sun should have lost
something of his fierceness. But, first of all, remembering that
flashing vision of a man across the track, I judged it wise to close the
heavy door and fasten it, the which I did by running my sword (for lack
of wooden pin) through two stout iron staples, thus making it impossible
for anyone to attempt an entrance without my hearing him. This done, I
lay down on the bracken close beside the door and very soon was
wandering in the land of Nod.
Now I count not among my virtues (or, if you will, my vices) that of
being what is called a heavy sleeper. Slight noises will awaken me, and
so it came about that, while I was slumbering thus, a gentle rattling
aroused me thoroughly.
Someone had tried the door, and, as the staples were full long, my sword
allowed it to be opened quite four inches. This had been done, and,
even as I stared in breathless silence, a great brown hand crept in and
groped about in search of that which barred all further entry.
If you have never seen a hand thus armless--lopped off and blindly
feeling, as it were--no words of mine can picture it aright for you.
'Twas horrible beyond compare; and though the light which flickered
through two narrow slits set high up in the wall was dim enough, it was
yet all-sufficient to make plain a sight so awesome--four straining
fingers and a thumb which lacked a guiding eye!
I stared like one bewitched until at last the fingers closed upon the
sword-hilt; then, with a sudden spring, I tried to seize the wrist, but
failed. The hand shot back ere I could even touch it, while next moment
swiftly-running feet proclaimed its owner's flight.
Pulling my sword out from the staples, I drew it, and rushed forth in
pursuit. Yet, though I had thus lost scarce half a minute, there was no
sign of anyone outside; and not a sound came from the bushes which grew
thickly all around, and were the only means of hiding near.
Baffled and perplexed, I walked silently along the turf a little way,
stopping every yard or so to listen. Still naught was to be heard. That
sly disturber of my sleep had disappeared as if by magic.
This was an ugly state of things--indeed, I liked it not; and so,
bethinking me that to go farther might spell danger to my mare, I ran
back to the stable.
The sun had now moved down considerably (thus proving that I must have
slept some hours), and the heat, though still oppressive, was not so
overpowering as it had been; but, even had it still been like a furnace,
I would not have tarried longer in that haunted place. So, with the
memory of a clawing hand to hurry me, I tightened Kitty's girths, and,
having led her forth, was just about to mount, when something hissed
close past my face and stuck quivering in a tree-stem. It was a small
black arrow! The mystery was explained at last, and the knowledge that
my dreaded enemy lurked thus close to me was so appalling that I shame
not to confess my knees smote one against the other, while a clammy
sweat broke out upon my forehead.
Leaping to the saddle I urged Kitty forward, at the same time bending
low by instinct; and well it was I did so, for next moment a pistol
cracked behind me and the bullet whistled just above my shoulder. Two
inches lower and I had been hit!
Glancing back, when we had covered some three hundred yards, I saw no
sign of Tubal Ammon, and was just thanking Heaven for such a merciful
deliverance, when suddenly my mare stopped dead and broke out trembling
with fear.
The cause of this was just ahead, for there an old man lay upon his back
among the heather. Going close up I gazed down on him, and, to my
horror, found that he was dead. His eyes stared up at me with awful
fixedness. Moreover, he had met his death by violence, as was clearly
proven by the gaping knife-wound in his breast. Stabbed through the
heart!
He was well dressed (a yeoman farmer by the look of him), and wore
riding boots with spurs. Thus it was clear he had been riding when
death overtook him. What, then? How came he thus? Where was his
horse? These questions were full quickly answered; for barely had I put
them to myself when from behind there came the sound of thudding hoofs,
and, starting round, I saw Tubal Ammon galloping towards me on a
long-legged, bony beast.
This made things clear indeed; yea, verily, I understood it all as in a
flash. Keeping far ahead of us throughout the morning, running when we
walked (though ever making sure of our direction), the miscreant had
reached this lonely spot before us, had met this poor old man and slain
him for his horse, and, having hidden it, had lurked about in hope of
falling me as well by stealth. This having failed, he now pursued me on
his blood-bought steed, intent on further mischief.
As this rushed through my mind, I, too, rushed through the air, and such
a wild, mad race began as never was. Kitty knew little of the spur, but
now I used it on her without knowing that I did so. Heavens, how we
flew! The pace we made was such as beggars words. The ugly brute
behind, for all his great long legs and furious speed, gained not a yard
upon us, for what advantage he possessed in length of limb my mare
outwitted by her lightness and agility.
Mile after mile we had covered in this headlong, reckless fashion, when
suddenly a shrill cry reached me, and glancing back, I saw that Tubal
Ammon's horse was down, while he himself had been shot yards in front of
it.
Perceiving this, I stopped to look. Perchance the luckless beast had
stumbled in a rabbit burrow, while, by the way its head dropped back
when Ammon pulled upon it with the bridle, I judged it to be either
broken-necked or broken-hearted. And doubtless its rider shared the
same opinion, for, after divers vicious tugs and kicks he dropped the
reins, and, turning, shook a fist at me. I answered in like fashion,
then trotted on my way.
And here it seems to me that you may well be wondering why, in the name
of fortune, I did not instead ride back and try to kill the wicked
wretch whose death I so much coveted. But verily, my friends, the
chances were not what, to you, they may appear to have been; nay, rather
were they all against me. For, look you, thick cover lay on every side,
and long ere I could have come up with him, friend Tubal would have
darted into hiding; while, having just most providentially escaped from
death, I had no mind to seek for it again.
So I pressed on towards Exeter, whose grey cathedral towers were even
then just visible, far off, against the glowing sky. But, feeling safe
from that which lay behind, I did not hurry, for Kitty's state was truly
piteous. Her flanks were streaming, while the foam dripped from her
mouth. Thus I walked and trotted her by turns, and the sun was nearly
down when at last we clattered noisily along the ancient city's streets.
Here was mighty bustle and excitement, with no little fear mixed up
therewith. The streets were all alive with eager, anxious crowds, and
many, taking me to be a special messenger bearing news of Monmouth,
tried to stop and question me; but, turning a deaf ear to them, I
cantered on to Albemarle's head-quarters.
I found him seated at wine in company with divers gay-dressed cavaliers,
who, by the look of them, thought more of drinking than of fighting. At
first they were inclined to flout me; but, verily, a sturdy, well-armed,
six-foot stripling of eighteen, with his wits about him, is something of
a match for such as they. I tossed them back their gibes with interest,
and when 'twas found that I came straight from Lyme, they changed their
tune and pestered me with questions, which I answered coldly.
"And so you come to join us, eh, young man?" said Albemarle, when I was
sick of being catechized.
"Yes, sir," I answered, and added that my father was an old friend of
Lord Feversham, Commander-General of the forces.
That made the Duke sit up and stare at me as though I were a thing of
more importance than he had imagined.
"Ah, by my life!" said he at last, "then sink me if I find thee not a
cornetcy. What say you, gentlemen?"
With one accord the red-faced fellows smote the table with their fists,
and swore it should be so; then, rising, drank my health.
And thus it came about that, after passing safely through another day of
peril, I went to bed a soldier of King James.
*CHAPTER XX*
*At Sedgemoor Fight*
This record deals not mainly with the bold, ill-starred designs of
Monmouth, but rather with the lesser doings of one Michael Fane;
therefore I will not dwell upon the marchings and the counter-marchings,
the petty skirmishes, the knock-kneed weaknesses and pitiable indecision
which led the hapless Duke at last to bloody Sedgemoor and destruction.
Sweeping aside, then, as it were, these matters, which, though
contributory to the final great catastrophe, were of themselves but
small affairs, I come to the night of 5th July, 1685, when we of the
Royalist army, scarce four thousand strong, were encamped upon that
wild, vast tract of bog and moorland known as Sedgemoor; while, not far
away, inside the ancient town of Bridgewater (which had proclaimed him
king), lay Monmouth with some eight thousand followers.
'Twas a Sunday, and all day long 'tis said the rebel army had been
engaged in deep devotions (a thing I cannot say for our side); while
their preachers, wearing red coats, great jack-boots and swords, held
forth with fiery words from wagons and the like. The far-off, fervid
singing of their psalms and hymns had reached us on the plain, and
brought forth many a ribald jest from men whose earnestness, at least,
was not comparable with theirs.
Thus the day dragged by in stifling heat, until at last that fatal night
came on which was to usher in such awful carnage. Again, 'tis no part
of my plan to give a detailed story of the fight. To begin with, I have
not the wherewithal to do it; a man who fights in battle has quite
enough to do, it seems to me, to use his weapons properly, and so can
know but little of the whole design. At least 'twas so in my case; and
even were it otherwise I would scarce attempt it, for the tale has been
already told full oft by abler men than me, and in such glowing words as
I could never hope to compass. Still, as one who fought upon the side
of victory (if such a butcher's shambles can be rightly called so), I
would make bold to say that but for some blind blundering on the part of
Monmouth's scouts and guides, together with the accidental firing of a
pistol, a vastly different story might have come down to your ears. For
'tis certain that we had no previous knowledge of this well-planned
night attack, and therefore, but for an eleventh-hour warning, should
have been taken unawares by an army which, notwithstanding all its
ill-armed, untrained state, yet outnumbered ours by two to one, and
moreover, was aflame with burning zeal. With that statement of cold
fact I will content myself, and so press forward, hot-foot, on my own
affairs.
It was a full-mooned, starry night, yet for all that a fog so low and
thick hung over marshy Sedgemoor that naught was visible at fifty paces.
The night was still, with scarce a breath of wind to stir the rushes
which abounded; and save for the dismal booming of a bittern, a
roughly-given password or command, and the far-off, muffled sound of
revelry, where heedless officers still sat at their wine--except for
these, I say, no sound was to be heard.
As many of you know, the moor is drained to some extent by means of
broad, deep ditches (called Rhines in those parts), and crossed here and
there by causeways. For the most part they are filled with mud and
water, and on the bank of one of them (that called the Bussex Rhine--a
name which surely might have been found graven on poor Monmouth's
heart)--I, who had now joined Feversham, stood with my men that night.
'Twas nearly one o'clock, and I was pacing idly to and fro, full sick of
everything, when suddenly a pistol shot rang out upon the silence,
followed quickly by the deeper note of muskets; then came loud, warning
cries, the furious galloping of horses; and in a moment all was turmoil
and confusion.
In this manner did we first get news that Monmouth's army had crept
close upon us in the darkness. But, alack for such a well-planned
scheme, they had either overlooked or clean forgot the Bussex Rhine; and
as they now pressed on, they found their way barred by a great broad
ditch some twenty feet across, with no near means of crossing it; and
thus it was that we were saved from a surprise attack which might have
cost us dear enough.
As I stood there listening keenly, and wondering what all this pother
was about (for of course I did not know), I heard the heavy tramp of
many feet, coming as it seemed towards me from the other side, and
presently a dark, blurred mass of men hove dimly through the fog, then
stopped suddenly, and broke out muttering--dismayed, no doubt, to find
an unexpected ditch before them.
Bidding my men draw back, I stepped up to the edge.
"Who's that? Whom are you for?" I called across.
"The king," a voice replied.
"Which king?" I asked.
"King Monmouth!" came the loud, bold answer, and then, as if by one
consent, the Rebel battle-cry rolled forth like thunder:
"God with us!"
I never heard so great a shout, and as it spread among the teeming
thousands on the moor behind, it seemed to shake the very earth; it was
as though all England raised her voice to Heaven.
Barely had that great cry died away when drums and bugles sounded,
matchlocks broke out in a dazzling blaze, and bullets screamed across
the ditch by hundreds. Our infantry had now come up, while Churchill
with the horse, having found a crossing lower down, charged like a
whirlwind on the rebel flank and rear. The battle had begun in right
good earnest. And what a battle! The fog-bound darkness, which made it
hard to tell a foe from a friend, added to its horrors. The crash of
musketry; the roar of cannon and the clash of steel; the cries, and
shrieks, and groans--all this still rises up before me like some ugly
nightmare, even as I write these words.
And what was my own part therein? Well, as I said before, I had no
desire to kill my fellow-countrymen, but when a roaring, wild-eyed
fellow comes a-mowing at you with a pike, or scythe stuck endwise on a
pole, you must do something, and--well, I did it; and, as the fight went
on, I had to do it many times, until at length the sword which had been
girded on me by my father in that quiet study had indeed a sorry tale of
death to tell. And here, my friends, a word of warning, or at least of
clean confession. The rack of battle raises Cain in man, until he comes
to kill unthinkingly, if not with grim delight. Beware!
And now the fight raged fiercely on all sides; but, though furious and
bloody, it did not last long. Indeed, how could it? Those poor
benighted, ill-trained fellows were no match for men who were, at least,
well-armed and had some claim to being disciplined. Confused, hemmed in,
and badly led, they surged to and fro like flocks of frightened sheep,
an easy prey for sword and bullet; and though full many of them fought
with dogged courage, and others with the fury of despair, there could be
but one end to it. Their horses, for the most part utterly unused to
warfare, were so maddened by the deafening noise of guns and muskets
that they turned and galloped headlong back to Bridgewater. Nor was it
long before many of the rebel foot were fleeing in a like direction;
for, with our infantry across the ditch, the fight became a rout in no
time.
Meanwhile I had mounted Kitty, and was in the very thick of it, slashing
and thrusting for my life at every turn. And thus it was I met at last
a tall, red-coated fellow on a big black horse. He came towards me at a
furious gallop, waving his sword and shrieking like a madman:
"The God of Abraham! The God of Abraham!" As he flew by he aimed a
savage blow at me. Just then a matchlock blazed and lighted up a
red-blotched face. I knew him instantly. 'Twas Robert Ferguson.
So sudden and bewildering had this vision been that for a space I sat
there staring like a man bedazed; but Sedgemoor was that night the last
place to be mooning in, and when a lanky yokel rushed upon me with a
scythe I came back to my senses quick enough. Yet, even so, it was my
mare that saved me. She had seen far too much already to be caught thus
napping. To save her legs from being lopped off by that murderous
blade, she sprang aside; and as the fellow thus foiled swung round,
mowing at the air, I cut him down.
Next moment I was flying headlong after Ferguson, with no thought for
the battle left behind. But the time which I had lost since meeting
him, though scarce a minute, yet proved enough to make my chase a
hopeless one; and though I kept a keen eye on all red-coats, I saw no
sign of him I sought.
Still, in what mad hope I know not, I tore on, until at length, having
got clear alike of those who fought and those who ran, I realized my
folly, and, pulling up, was just about to turn, when, from ahead, there
came the ringing sound of steel on steel, I listened. Yes, swords were
clashing there not far away behind a straggling wood; and by the noise
of it the combat was a fierce and deadly one. Who could it be who thus
fought out their quarrel in this lonely spot two miles from where a
battle raged?
Bent on an answer to that question I moved slowly forwards, but had not
gone far before a piercing cry rang out. Dead silence followed. The
clash of swords had ceased.
Then I moved on again, this time at a canter. The fog had lifted
hereabouts, while the first dim light of dawn was in the sky. And thus,
on coming round the bushes, I could just make out a man with naked sword
standing above another who lay prone upon the ground. On catching sight
of me he sheathed his sword and fled with wondrous speed. Passing the
stricken man, I followed; but he had a goodly start, and though I kept
him well in sight, he beat me at the far end of the wood. There I could
see no sign of him.
Puzzled, I looked around, and saw a light some fifty yards away upon the
left. For this I made, and soon found out its cause. Here was an old
stone hovel, used either for the ponies or the cattle which roam, half
wild, on Sedgemoor. Someone (perchance a guard) had been camping there
that very night, and a fire of faggots still glowed on the floor, thus
lighting up the place.
Dismounting, I went in and glanced about. Nothing was there except a
manger full of straw--so bulging full, in fact, that I was minded to
explore it. But barely had I gone a step when methought I heard a
rustling of the straw, and sure enough next moment something bright came
poking through. A pistol barrel! With a diving leap, I seized and
turned the threatening thing, forcing the muzzle upwards; and not a whit
too soon, for even as I did so it exploded, and the bullet crashed into
the rafters. Then as I clutched a bony wrist, and twisted it, a
smothered cry arose, the pistol fell, a close-cropped head shot forth,
and I was face to face with Tubal Ammon.
Letting go my hold I sprang back, whipped out my sword, and stared at
him as one would at a fearsome apparition, while he sat up and fixed me
with his cunning eyes.
"At last!" I hissed, as soon as I could find my voice.
"Aye, verily," grinned he, shaking the straw from off his shoulders;
"'twould seem that you and I, friend, were ordained to come across each
other; 'tis indeed as if our horoscope were cast in----"
"Enough of that," I broke in fiercely. "Come forth, you dog!"
He instantly obeyed. Leaping out, he stood there with folded arms, his
ugly head thrust forward, and his eyes fixed hungrily upon the doorway
towards which my back was turned.
"What now?" he asked at last, and though he grinned, I saw that fear
lurked on his face.
"Why, this," I answered, slowly. "I should do well to put a bullet
through so foul a cur, but that is scarcely to my liking. No, Tubal
Ammon, I will kill thee in a closer fashion. Therefore, draw sword and
fight for it."
Out flashed his blade, while by his look I knew that he was mightily
relieved to have so fine a chance, and thought to kill me.
"Art ready?"
"Yes."
"Then, have at you for a murderer and a villain!" With that our swords
crossed, and even on that night of battle, with its many hand-to-hand
encounters, no fiercer, deadlier combat could have raged than that which
now commenced inside that lonely building. If ever two men strove amain
to kill each other, we were those two; if ever steel shot forth with
hate behind it, that steel was surely ours.
My foe soon proved himself a skilful, wary swordsman, but had he been
the finest then in England, methinks I would have mastered him at last.
Fearing, if chance afforded, that he might dart out into the night and
thus escape me, I kept a stolid back towards the doorway. Thus it was
he who did most of the attacking, and so swift and furious was it that
more than once his point came dangerously near my heart.
At last I tried a sudden twist (learnt from my father), and thereby
forced Ammon's weapon from his grasp. He sprang back hissing like a
cat, and doubtless thought his hour was come. But though I longed to
kill him that was not my way of doing it. I bid him take his sword
again--an act of fairness which came near costing me my life; for
presently, presuming on it, he made pretence to lose his weapon yet
again, and when I motioned him to take it, made a sudden, upward thrust
at me ere I was ready for him. But at last the craftiness of Tubal Ammon
failed him utterly. I turned his blade aside so that it ran beneath my
arm, and, as he thus rushed blindly forward, my sword shot straight into
his breast. Staggering to the wall, he stood there glaring at me for a
moment, while the life-blood spurted from him; then with a vengeful cry
he tried to spring upon me--failed, and crashed dead at my feet.
Thus died Tubal Ammon, King of Subtlety, and verily it seemed to me the
manner of his end was one which well befitted him. 'Twas in a barn that
he had tried to kill me privily--'twas in a hovel that I left him dead.
One half of my vow thus happily accomplished, I went in search of him
whom Ammon's sword had smitten. I found him lying with his shoulders
partly propped up by a tree, to which he had made shift to crawl. His
hands were spread in front of him, his chin hung down upon his breast,
and so I thought that he was dead. But on kneeling down beside him I
found that he still breathed. Having taken off his steel cap I raised
the drooping head, then nearly let it fall again, for the bloodless
face, on which a setting moon shone, was none other than John Coram's.
His eyes were closed, but when I called his name he opened them and
gazed at me in a dim, dazed fashion.
"You here--you?" he murmured.
"Yes, yes; how came it thus?" I said.
"Stark!" he gasped. "We met in battle--I pursued--he led me on--then
turned upon me here--and--faith, his accursed sword hath gone clean
through my lungs. I bleed within. I die."
"Stark is dead," I said by way of comfort.
"What! didst kill him?"
"Yes. He lies dead scarce two hundred yards from here."
"Good--good!" he murmured fervently. "But stay--it grows amazing dark!
Come near, friend."