"DRAW SWORDS!"
Another night had come--'twas already dark--and Juan and I sat on our
horses in the cork wood, at the end of which we could hear the Minho
swirling along beneath the ramshackle bridge that divided Portugal
from Spain. And, as good fortune would have it, there was on this, the
Portuguese side, no _guarda frontéra_ whatever. Perhaps that poor,
impoverished land thought there was naught to guard from ingress, also
that nothing would be brought from Spain to them. The traffic set all
the other way!
Because there was no need for us to be too soon where we were now;
indeed, because 'twas not well that we should be here ere nightfall,
the landlord had not awakened me until nine in the morning. And then,
on his doing so, I perceived that the other sheepskin-clad bed by my
side had not been occupied at all. Wherefore I started up in some
considerable fright, calling out to him through the door to know where
was my friend, the young señor, whom I had left warming himself at the
great fire below over night, and saying that he would follow me to bed
ere long.
"Oh! he is below," he replied. "Has passed the night in front of the
fire wrapped in his cloak, saying that 'twas there alone he could keep
himself from death by the cold. He bids me tell you all is well for
your journey, the horses fresh; also there is a good meal awaiting
you"; whereon I performed my ablutions, hurried on my garments and
rapidly made my way to the public room below.
"Juan," I said, "you should have warned me of your intention of
remaining below. This is not good campaigning, nor comradeship. Had I
awakened in the night and found you missing, I should have descended
to seek for you, fearing that danger had come to you, and 'tis not
well for travellers to be aroused unnecessarily from their beds on
winter nights. Also we should keep always together. Soldiers--and you
have to be one now!--on dangerous service should not separate."
"Forgive," he said, as, it seemed, he was always saying to me, and
uttering the words in his accustomed soft, pleading voice. "Forgive.
But--oh! Mervan!" pausing a moment as though seeking for some excuse
for having deserted me for the night--"oh! Mervan! that bed was so--so
filthy and untempting. And the room so cold, when without fire. And it
was so warm here. I could not force myself to leave this room."
Remembering what he had said about those who came from the tropics
dreading cold and discomfort even more than death, I thought I
understood how he should have preferred sleeping here to doing so
above. Therefore, I merely said:
"There might be worse beds than that you would not use--may be worse
for us ere long. Still, no matter. You slept warm here as I did
upstairs. Yet 'tis well I did not waken. Now let us see for breakfast
and our departure," and giving a glance at the landlord, who was
bringing in a sort of thick soup in which I saw many dried raisins
floating, also some eggs and coarse black bread, as well as some
chocolate which smelt mighty good and diffused a pleasing aroma
through the room, I tapped my waistcoat pocket to remind him of the
other doubloons that were in it. And he nodded understandingly.
The journey to where we now stood this evening was as uneventful as
though we had been traveling in safety in our own England. The road
into which the man had put us in the morning led first of all through
countless villages--I have since heard that in all Europe there is no
land so thickly sown with villages as this poor one of Portugal--then
trailed off into a dense chestnut-fringed track that was no longer a
road at all.
And now we knew that we were close unto the spot where our first
adventure on the journey, that we hoped might at last bring us to
Flanders, must of necessity take place. We were but half an hour's
ride from the crazy bridge the man had spoken of as connecting his
country with Spain--the bridge on the other side of which was the
rocky path, with, at the top of it, the hut in which we should find
two Spanish _guardas frontéras_ armed to the teeth and prepared to bar
the way to all who could not show their right to pass.
Yet we were resolved to pass--or leave our bodies there.
"There is," the landlord had said, "a holy stone at the spot where the
path leading to the bridge enters the cork wood. You cannot mistake
it. Upon that stone is graven the Figure, beneath it an arrow pointing
the way to Melagasso. Your path lies to the left and thus to the
bridge. God keep you."
We left that stone as he had directed, with one swift glance
upward at those blessed features--I noticing Juan crossed himself
devoutly--slowly over fallen leaves that lay sodden on the earth
beneath their mantle of snow, and over dried branches blown to the
earth, our horses trod. And so for a quarter of an hour we pursued our
way, while still the night came on swifter and swifter until, at last,
we could scarce see each other's forms beneath the thick foliage above
our heads.
Yet we heard now that swirling, rushing river--heard its murmur as it
swept past its banks, and its deep swish as it rolled over what was
doubtless some great boulder stone out in the stream--heard, too, its
hum as it glided by the supports of the bridge that we knew was before
us. Also, we saw above our heads a light gleaming--a light that we
knew must come from the frontiermen's house.
And we had to steal up to where that light twinkled brightly, in what
was now the clear, frosty air, since the snow had ceased--indeed, had
not fallen all day--and all was clear overhead; to steal up, and then,
if might be, make our hasty rush past on our horses' backs, or stay to
cross steel and exchange ball with those who barred our way.
"Forward to the bridge!" I whispered to Juan, fearing that even from
where we were my voice might be borne on the clear night air up to
that height. "Loosen, also, your blade in its sheath! And your
pistols, too--are they well primed?"
"Yes," he whispered back, his voice soft and low as a woman's when she
murmurs acknowledgment of her love. "Yes."
"You do not fear?"
"I fear nothing--we are together," and, as he spoke, I felt the long,
slim, gloved hand touch mine.
A moment later we had left the shadow of the wood; we stood above the
sloping bank of the river rushing by; another moment and our horses'
feet would be upon the wooden bridge--its creaking quite apparent to
our ears as the stream swept under it.
"'Tis God's mercy," I whispered again to him, "that the river is so
brawling; otherwise the horses' hoofs upon these boards would be heard
as plain as a musket's roar. Ha! I had forgotten!"
"Forgotten what, Mervan?" the gentle voice of Juan whispered back.
"Forgotten what?"
"If they should neigh! If there should be any of their kind up there!"
and as I spoke, as the thought came to me, I felt as though I myself
feared.
"Pray God they do not; yet, if they do, it must be borne." And now I
noticed his voice was as firm as though he had experienced a hundred
such risks as this we were running. Then he added: "The Indians muffle
theirs with their serapes when they draw near a foe. Shall we do
that?"
"No," I answered, "'tis too late. Let's on. Yet, remember, at the
slowest pace. Thus their hoofs will fall lighter." And again I
exclaimed: "Thank God, the river drowns their clatter!"
Yet, a moment later, and I had cause for further rejoicing. From above
where that light twinkled there came a sound of singing--a rich, full
voice a-trolling of a song, with another voice joining in.
Or was there more than one voice joining in? If so, we might have more
than the old man and the young one, of whom the landlord had spoken,
to encounter. Almost directly Juan confirmed my dread.
"There are half a dozen there," he said, very calmly. "I know enough
of music to recognise that. What to do now?"
"To go on," I answered. "See, we are across the bridge--there is the
road--in another moment we shall be ascending the path. Praise heaven,
we can ride abreast."
And in that other moment we were riding abreast slowly up that path,
the snow that lay on it deadening now the sound of the horses' hoofs,
while the voices within helped also to silence them.
"I know the song," Juan whispered--and I marvelled at his
calmness--his! the youth's who had been so nervous when there was
naught to fear, yet who now, when danger was close upon him, seemed to
fear nothing--"have sung it myself. 'Tis 'The Cid's Wedding.'"
"'Twill not be songs about weddings that they will be engaged on," I
said, "if any come out of that hut during the next ten minutes; but
rather screeches of death--from us or them. Have your sword ready,
Juan, also your pistols."
"They are ready," he said. "Yet what to do? Suppose any come forth ere
we are past the door, over the frontier. Am I to ride straight through
them--are we to do so?"
"Ay. Sit well down in your saddle, give your nag his head, and--if any
man impedes your way, stand up in your stirrups, cut down straight at
him, or, if yours is not a cutting sword, thrust straight at the
breast of--Ha!"
My exclamation--still under my breath, since my caution did not desert
me--was caused by what now met our eyes, namely, the opening of some
door giving on to the road in front of where the frontier cabin stood;
the gleaming forth into that road of a stream of light, and then the
coming out from the hut and the mingling of some four or five figures
of men in the glare.
Now, when this happened, we had progressed up the hillside road
two-thirds of the way, so that we were not more than seventy paces, if
as much, from where those people were; yet, as I calculated, even at
this nearness to them, we might still, if all went well, escape
discovery. For we were under the shelter of the shelving rock which
reared itself to our left hands, and not out in the middle of the
road, which was here somewhat broad; and, therefore, to the darkness
of the night was added the still deeper darkness of the rock's
obscurity. And, I reflected, 'twas scarce likely any would be coming
our way from this party, which was evidently breaking up, since the
Portuguese and Spaniards did not, I thought, fraternise very much.
'Twas not very probable any would be returning our way. Consequently,
I deemed that we were safe, or almost so; that, soon, some of those in
the road would take themselves off, and would leave behind in the hut
none but the old man and the young man of whom the landlord had
spoken. Nay, more, a glance down the road in the direction of where we
were would, in the darkness of the night, reveal nothing of our
whereabouts. And I conveyed as much to Juan by a pressure of my hand,
yet leaning forward, too, over to his side and whispering:
"All the same, be ready. It may come to a rush. If one of our horses
neighs or shakes itself--so much as paws the earth--if a bridle
jangles--we are discovered."
And a glance from those bright eyes--I protest, I saw them glisten in
the darkness of the starlit night!--told me that he had heard and
understood. Told me, also, that he was ready. After that--after those
whispered words of mine, that responsive glance of his--we sat as
still as statues on our steeds, hardly allowing our breath to issue
from our lungs--watching--watching those figures.
God! would they never separate? Would not some depart and the others
retire into the cabin and shut the door against the cold wintry night?
Offer us the opportunity to make one turn of the wrist on our reins,
give one pressure of our knees to the animals' flanks and dash up the
remains of the ascent and past the hut ere those within could rush out
and send a bullet after us from fusil, gun or musketoon?
At last they gave signs of parting--we heard the _buenas noches_ and
the _adiós_ issuing from those Spanish throats; we saw two of the
men--their forms blurred and magnified in the outstreaming rays of the
lamp--clasp each other's hands; we knew that they were saying farewell
to one another. And then--curse the buffoon!--and then, when they had
even parted and two had turned toward the door to re-enter, and the
others had taken their first steps upon the road forward--then, I say,
one of these latter turned back, made signs to all the others, and,
when he had fixed their attention, began to dance and caper about in
the road, imitating for the benefit of his friends, as I supposed,
some dance or dancer he had lately seen.
From the lips of my doubtless high-strung companion there came a
long-drawn breath; almost I could have sworn I heard the soft murmur
of a smothered Spanish oath; and then once more those whom we watched
parted from each other--the buffoonery was over, the imitation, if it
was such, finished. Again, with laughs and jokes, they broke up and
separated.
"Our chance is at hand, at last!" I whispered.
Was it?
The others--those going away--had disappeared round a bend of both
rock and road; the two left behind were retiring into their house
when, suddenly, the last one stopped, paused a moment, put up his hand
to his head as though endeavouring to recall something, then put out
his other hand, seemed to grasp a lantern from inside the door, and,
slowly, began a moment later to descend the road where we sat our
steeds.
And now we were discovered beyond all doubt; in a moment or so he
would perceive us; another, and he would challenge us; would shout
back to his comrade in the hut--perhaps call loud enough to attract
the attention of his departing friends. We should be shot down, our
horses probably hamstrung, we brought to earth, prisoners or dead.
"Swords out!" I said to Juan, "and advance. Quick, put your horse to
the canter at once; ride past him--over him if need be."
A moment later and we had flashed by the astonished man, the jennet
that bore Juan springing up the hill like a cat, my own bony but
muscular steed alongside; behind us we heard his roars; an instant
after the ping of a bullet whistled by my ears, fired at us by the
other one in the hut as we advanced; another moment and he was
out in the road, endeavouring to swing a wooden gate, that hung
on hinges attached to the cabin, across the road. Also, which was
worst of all, we heard answering calls from the men who had gone on
ahead--tramplings and shouts--we knew that they were coming back to
help.
But we were at the gate now, and still it was not shut, there wanted
yet another yard or so ere its catch would meet the socket post, and,
shifting my reins into my sword hand, I seized its top bar,
endeavouring to bear it back by the combined weight of my horse and
myself upon the man striving to shut it.
Then I heard the fellow at the gate call out something of which I
understood no word, heard Juan give a reply with--who would have
believed it of him at this moment--a mocking laugh; heard the word,
_Inglese_; knew intuitively that he had told them who and what we
were, and had defied them.
And also, as I divined all this, I saw that the other men had
returned, had reached the gate and were lending their assistance to
aid in its being barred against us.
It was war time, as I had said before; I took heart of grace in
remembering this, and I set to work to hew my way, even though I
killed all who opposed me, toward the distant goal I sought. One
brawny Spaniard who, even as he lent his whole weight to the gate,
drew forth a huge pistol, I cut down over those bars, he falling all
a-heap in the road; another I ran through the shoulder; and I saw the
steel of Juan's lighter sword gleam like a streak of lightning betwixt
the upper and the second bar; I heard the third man who had come back
give a yell of pain as it reached him, while a pistol he had just
fired fell to the ground--he falling a moment later on top of it.
And now there was but the original man left at the gate, and still it
was not shut! Wherefore I brought the whole strength and power of my
body to force it back so that there should be room for us to pass.
Yet, even as I did so, I had to desist, for from behind, I heard Juan
shout:
"Mervan, Mervan, help me!" and on looking round I saw that the jennet
was riderless. Saw also, that he was down, that the man who had begun
to descend the hill was wrestling with him on the ground, and that, as
they struggled together, both were rolling over toward the lower part
of the precipice or rock side, which hung perpendicularly above the
swift flowing river.