THE FLIGHT.
One of the men--it was I--muttered something to Marie, and she snuffed
the wick, and blew up the light. In a moment it filled the room,
disclosing a strange medley of levelled weapons, startled faces, and
flashing eyes. In one corner Fraulein Max and the two women cowered
behind one another, trembling and staring. At the table sat my lady,
with dull, dazed eyes, looking on, yet scarcely understanding what was
happening. On either side of her stood Steve and I, covering the
general with our pistols, while the Waldgrave, who was still too weak
for much exertion, kept guard at the door.
Tzerclas was the first to speak. 'What is this foolery?' he said,
scowling unutterable curses at us. 'What does this mean?'
'This!' I said, producing a piece of hide rope. 'We are going to tie
you up. If you struggle, general, you die. If you submit, you live.
That is all. Go to work, Steve.'
There was a gleam in Tzerclas' eye, which warned me to stand back and
crook my finger. His face was black with fury, and for an instant I
thought that he would spring upon us and dare all. But prudence and
the pistols prevailed. With an evil look he sat still, and in a trice
Steve had a loop round his arms and was binding him to the heavy
chair.
I knew then that as far as he was concerned we were safe; and I turned
to bid the women get cloaks and food, adjuring them to be quick, since
every moment was precious.
'Bring nothing but cloaks and food and wine,' I said. 'We have to go a
league on foot and can carry little.'
The Countess heard my words, and looked at me with growing
comprehension. 'The Waldgrave?' she muttered. 'Is he here?'
He came forward from the door to speak to her; but when she saw him,
and how pale and thin he was, with great hollows in his cheeks and his
eyes grown too large for his face, she began to cry weakly, as any
other woman might have cried, being overwrought. I bade Marie, who
alone kept her wits, to bring her wine and make her take it; and in a
minute she smiled at us, and would have thanked us.
'Wait!' I said bluntly, feeling a great horror upon me whenever I
looked towards the general or caught his eye. 'You may have small
cause to thank us. If we fail, Heaven and you forgive us, my lady, for
this man will not. If we are retaken----'
'We will not be retaken!' she cried hardily. 'You have horses?'
'Five only,' I answered. 'They are all Steve could get, and they are a
league away. We must go to them on foot. There are eight of us here,
and young Jacob and Ernst are watching outside. Are all ready?'
My lady looked round; her eye fell on Fraulein Max, who with a little
bundle in her arms had just re-entered and stood shivering by the
door. The Dutch girl winced under her glance, and dropping her bundle,
stooped hurriedly to pick it up.
'That woman does not go!' the Countess said suddenly.
I answered in a low tone that I thought she must.
'No!' my lady cried harshly--she could be cruel sometimes--'not with
us. She does not belong to our party. Let her stay with her paymaster,
and to-morrow he will doubtless reward her.'
What reward she was likely to get Fraulein Max knew well. She flung
herself at my lady's feet in an agony of fear, and clutching her
skirts, cried abjectly for mercy; she would carry, she would help, she
would do anything, if she might go! Knowing that we dared not leave
her since she would be certain to release the general as soon as our
backs were turned, I was glad when Marie, whose heart was touched,
joined her prayers to the culprit's and won a reluctant consent.
It has taken long to tell these things. They passed very quickly. I
suppose not more than a quarter of an hour elapsed between our first
appearance and this juncture, which saw us all standing in the
lamplight, laden and ready to be gone; while the general glowered at
us in sullen rage, and my lady, with a new thought in her mind, looked
round in dismay.
She drew me aside. 'Martin,' she said, 'his orderly is waiting in the
road with his horse. The moment we are gone he will shout to him.'
'We have provided for that,' I answered, nodding. Then assuring myself
by a last look round that all were ready, I gave the word. 'Now,
Steve!' I said sharply.
In a twinkling he flung over the general's head a small sack doubled
inwards. We heard a stifled oath and a cry of rage. The bars of the
strong chair creaked as our prisoner struggled, and for a moment it
seemed as if the knots would barely hold. But the work had been well
done, and in less than half a minute Steve had secured the sack to the
chair-back. It was as good as a gag, and safer. Then we took up the
chair between us, and lifting it into the back room, put it down and
locked the door upon our captive.
As we turned from it Steve looked at me. 'If he catches us after this,
Master Martin,' he said, 'it won't be an easy death we shall die!'
'Heaven forbid!' I muttered. 'Let us be off!'
He gave the word and we stole out into the darkness at the back of the
house, Steve, who had surveyed the ground, going first. My lady
followed him; then came the Waldgrave; after him the two women and
Fraulein Max, with Jacob and Ernst; last of all, Marie and I. It was
no time for love-making, but as we all stood a minute in the night,
while Steve listened, I drew Marie's little figure to me and kissed
her pale face again and again; and she clung to me, trembling, her
eyes shining into mine. Then she put me away bravely; but I took her
bundle, and with full hearts we followed the others across the field
at the back and through the ditch.
That passed, we found ourselves on the edge of the village, with the
lights of the camp forming five-sixths of a circle round us. In one
direction only, where the swamp and creek fringed the place, a dark
gap broke the ring of twinkling fires. Towards this gap Steve led the
way, and we, a silent line of gliding figures, followed him. The moon
had not yet risen. The gloom was such that I could barely make out the
third figure before me; and though all manner of noises--the chorus of
a song, the voice of a scolding hag, even the rattle of dice on a
drumhead--came clearly to my ears, and we seemed to be enclosed on all
sides, the darkness proved an effectual shield. We met no one, and
five minutes after leaving the house, reached the bank of the little
creek I have mentioned.
Here we paused and waited, a group of huddled figures, while Steve
groped about for a plank he had hidden. Before us lay the stream,
behind us the camp. At any moment the alarm might be raised. I
pictured the outcry, the sudden flickering of lights, the galloping
this way and that, the discovery. And then, thank Heaven! Steve found
his plank, and in the work of passing the women over I forgot my
fears. The darkness, the peril--for the water on the nearer side was
deep--the nervous haste of some, and the terror of others, made the
task no easy one. I was hot as fire and wet to the waist before it was
over, and we all stood ankle-deep in the ooze which formed the farther
bank.
Alas! our troubles were only beginning. Through this ooze we had to
wade for a mile or more, sometimes in doubt, always in darkness; now
plashing into pools, now stumbling over a submerged log, often up to
our knees in mud and water. The frogs croaked round us, the bog moaned
and gurgled; in the depth of the marsh the bitterns boomed mournfully.
If we stood a moment we sank. It was a horrible time; and the more
horrible, as through it all we had only to turn to see the camp lights
behind us, a poor half-mile or so away.
None but desperate men could have exposed women to such a labour; nor
could any but women without hope and at their wit's end have
accomplished it. As it was, Fraulein Max, who never ceased to whimper,
twice sank down and would go no farther, and we had to pluck her up
roughly and force her on. My lady's women, who wept in their misery,
were little better. Wet to the waist, draggled, and worn out by the
clinging slime and the reek of the marsh, they were kept moving only
with difficulty; so that, but for Steve's giant strength and my lady's
courage, I think we should have stayed there till daylight, and been
caught like birds limed on a bough.
As it was, we plunged and strove for more than an hour in that place,
the dark sky above us, the quaking bog below, the women's weeping in
our ears. Then, at last, when I had almost given up hope, we struggled
out one by one upon the road, and stood panting and shaking,
astonished to find solid ground under our feet. We had still two miles
to walk, but on dry soil; and though at another time the task might
have seemed to the women full of adventure and arduous, it failed to
frighten them after what we had gone through. Steve took Fraulein
Anna, and I one of the women. My lady and the Waldgrave went hand in
hand; the one giving, I fancy, as much help as the other. For Marie,
her small, white face was a beacon of hope in the darkness. In the
marsh she had never failed or fainted. On the road the tears came into
my eyes for pity and love and admiration.
At length Steve bade us stand, and leaving us in the way, plunged into
the denser blackness of a thicket, which lay between it and the river.
I heard him parting the branches before him, and stumbling and
swearing, until presently the sounds died away in the distance, and we
remained shivering and waiting. What if the horses were gone? What if
they had strayed from the place where he had tethered them early in
the day, or some one had found and removed them? The thought threw me
into a cold sweat.
Then I heard him coming back, and I caught the ring of iron hoofs. He
had them! I breathed again. In a moment he emerged, and behind him a
string of shadows--five horses tied head and tail.
'Quick!' he muttered. He had been long enough alone to grow nervous.
'We are two hours gone, and if they have not yet discovered him they
must soon! It is a short start, and half of us on foot!'
No one answered, but in a moment we had the Waldgrave, my lady,
Fraulein, and one of the women mounted. Then we put up Marie, who was
no heavier than a feather, and the lighter of the women on the
remaining horse; and Steve hurrying beside the leader, and I, Ernst,
and Jacob bringing up the rear, we were well on the road within two
minutes of the appearance of the horses. Those who rode had only
sacking for saddles and loops of rope for stirrups; but no one
complained. Even Fraulein Max began to recover herself, and to dwell
more upon the peril of capture than on aching legs and chafed knees.
The road was good, and we made, as far as I could judge, about six
miles in the first hour. This placed us nine miles from the camp; the
time, a little after midnight. At this point the clouds, which had
aided us so far by increasing the darkness of the night, fell in a
great storm of rain, that, hissing on the road and among the trees, in
a few minutes drenched us to the skin. But no one complained. Steve
muttered that it would make it the more difficult to track us; and for
another hour we plodded on gallantly. Then our leader called a halt,
and we stood listening.
The rain had left the sky lighter. A waning moon, floating in a wrack
of watery clouds to westward, shed a faint gleam on the landscape. To
the right of us it disclosed a bare plain, rising gradually as it
receded, and offering no cover. On our left, between us and the river,
it was different. Here a wilderness of osiers--a grey willow swamp
that in the moonlight shimmered like the best Utrecht--stretched as
far as we could see. The road where we stood rose a few feet above it,
so that our eyes were on a level with the highest shoots; but a
hundred yards farther on the road sank a little. We could see the
water standing on the track in pools, and glimmering palely.
'This is the place,' Steve muttered. 'It will be dawn in another hour.
What do you think, Master Martin?'
'That we had better get off the road,' I answered. 'Take it they found
him at midnight; the orderly's patience would scarcely last longer.
Then, if they started after us a quarter of an hour later, they should
be here in another twenty minutes.'
'It is an aguey place,' he said doubtfully.
'It will suit us better than the camp,' I answered.
No one else expressed an opinion, and Steve, taking my lady's rein,
led her horse on until he came to the hollow part of the road. Here
the moonlight disclosed a kind of water-lane, running away between the
osiers, at right angles from the road. Steve turned into it, leading
my lady's horse, and in a moment was wading a foot deep in water. The
Waldgrave followed, then the women. I came last, with Marie's rein in
my hand. We kept down the lane about one hundred and fifty paces, the
horses snorting and moving unwillingly, and the water growing ever
deeper. Then Steve turned out of it, and began to advance, but more
cautiously, parallel with the road.
We had waded about as far in this direction, sidling between the
stumps and stools as well as we could, when he came again to a stand
and passed back the word for me. I waded on, and joined him. The
osiers, which were interspersed here and there with great willows,
rose above our heads and shut out the moonlight. The water gurgled
black about our knees. Each step might lead us into a hole, or we
might trip over the roots of the osiers. It was impossible to see a
foot before us, or anything above us save the still, black rods and
the grey sky.
'It should be in this direction,' Steve said, with an accent of doubt.
'But I cannot see. We shall have the horses down.'
'Let me go first,' I said.
'We must not separate,' he answered hastily.
'No, no,' I said, my teeth beginning to chatter. 'But are you sure
that there is an eyot here?'
'I did not go to it,' he answered, scratching his head. 'But I saw a
clump of willows rising well above the level, and they looked to me as
if they grew on dry land.'
He stood a moment irresolutely, first one and then another of the
horses shaking itself till the women could scarcely keep their seats.
'Why do we not go on?' my lady asked in a low voice.
'Because Steve is not sure of the place, my lady,' I said. 'And it is
almost impossible to move, it is so dark, and the osiers grow so
closely. I doubt we should have waited until daylight.'
'Then we should have run the risk of being intercepted,' she answered
feverishly. 'Are you very wet?'
'No,' I said, though my feet were growing numb, 'not very. I see what
we must do. One of us must climb into a willow and look out.'
We had passed a small one not long before. I plashed my way back to
it, along the line of shivering women, and, pulling myself heavily
into the branches, managed to scramble up a few feet. The tree swayed
under my weight, but it bore me.
The first dawn was whitening the sky and casting a faint, reflected
light on the glistening sea of osiers, that seemed to my eyes--for I
was not high enough to look beyond it--to stretch far and away on
every side. Here and there a large willow, rising in a round, dark
clump, stood out above the level; and in one place, about a hundred
paces away on the riverside of us, a group of these formed a shadowy
mound. I marked the spot, and dropped gently into the water.
'I have found it,' I said. 'I will go first, and do you bring my lady,
Steve. And mind the stumps. It will be rough work.'
It was rough work. We had to wind in and out, leading and coaxing the
frightened horses, that again and again stumbled to their knees. Every
minute I feared that we should find the way impassable or meet with a
mishap. But in time, going very patiently, we made out the willows in
front of us. Then the water grew more shallow, and this gave the
animals courage. Twenty steps farther, and we passed into the shadow
of the trees. A last struggle, and, plunging one by one up the muddy
bank, we stood panting on the eyot.
It was such a place as only despair could choose for a refuge. In
shape like the back of some large submerged beast, it lay in length
about forty paces, in breadth half as many. The highest point was a
poor foot above the water. Seven great willows took up half the space;
it was as much as our horses, sinking in the moist mud to the fetlock,
could do to find standing-room on the remainder. Coarse grass and
reeds covered it; and the flotsam of the last flood whitened the
trunks of the willows, and hung in squalid wisps from their lower
branches.
For the first time we saw one another's faces, and how pale and
woe-begone, mudstained and draggled we were! The cold, grey light,
which so mercilessly unmasked our refuge, did not spare us. It helped
even my lady to look her worst. Fraulein Anna sat a mere lifeless lump
in her saddle. The waiting-women cried softly; they had cried all
night. The Waldgrave looked dazed, as if he barely understood where he
was or why he was there.
To think over-much in such a place was to weep. Instead, I hastened to
get them all off their horses, and with Steve's help and a great
bundle of osiers and branches which we cut, I made nests for them in
the lower boughs of the willows, well out of reach of the water. When
they had all taken their places, I served out food and a dram of
Dantzic waters, which some of us needed; for a white mist, drawn up
from the swamp by the rising sun, began to enshroud us, and, hanging
among the osiers for more than an hour, prolonged the misery of the
night.
Still, even that rolled away at last--about six o'clock--and let us
see the sun shining overhead in a heaven of blue distance and golden
clouds. Larks rose up and sang, and all the birds of the marsh began
to twitter and tweet. In a trice our mud island was changed to a
bower--a place of warmth and life and refreshment--where light and
shade lay on the dappled floor, and the sunshine fell through green
leaves.
Then I took the cloaks, and the saddles, and everything that was wet,
and spread them out on branches to dry; and leaving the women to make
themselves comfortable in their own way and shift themselves as they
pleased, we two, with the Waldgrave and the two servants, went away to
the other end of the eyot.
'I shall sleep,' Steve said drowsily.
The insects were beginning to hum. The horses stood huddled together,
swishing their long tails.
'You think they won't track us?' I asked.
'Certain,' he said. 'There are six hundred yards of mud and water,
eel-holes, and willow shoots between us and the road.'
The Waldgrave assented mechanically; it seemed so to me too. And
by-and-by, worn out with the night's work, I fell asleep, and slept, I
suppose, for a good many hours, with the sun and shade passing slowly
across my face, and the bees droning in my ears, and the mellow warmth
of the summer day soaking into my bones. When I awoke I lay for a time
revelling in lazy enjoyment. The oily plop of a water-rat, as it dived
from a stump, or the scream of a distant jay, alone broke the laden
silence. I looked at the sun. It lay south-west. It was three o'clock
then.
[Illustration: We were alone.... I whispered in her ear ...]
A light touch fell on my knee. I started, looked down, and for a
moment stared in sleepy wonder. A tiny bunch of blue flowers, such as
I could see growing in a dozen places on the edge of the island, lay
on it, tied up with a thread of purple silk. I started up on my elbow,
and--there, close beside me, with her cheeks full of colour, and the
sunshine finding golden threads in her dark hair, sat Marie, toying
with more flowers.
'Ha!' I said foolishly. 'What is it?'
'My lady sent me to you,' she answered.
'Yes,' I asked eagerly. 'Does she want me?'
But Marie hung her head, and played with the flowers. 'I don't think
so,' she whispered. 'She only sent me to you.'
Then I understood. The Waldgrave had gone to the farther end. Steve
and the men were tending the horses half a dozen paces beyond the
screen of willow-leaves. We were alone. A rat plashed into the water,
and drove Marie nearer to me; and she laid her head on my shoulder,
and I whispered in her ear, till the lashes sank down over her eyes
and her lips trembled. If I had loved her from the first, what was the
length and height and breadth of my love now, when I had seen her in
darkness and peril, sunshine and storm, strong when others failed,
brave when others flinched, always helpful, ready, tireless! And she
so small! So frail, I almost feared to press her to me; so pale, the
blood that leapt to her cheeks at my touch seemed a mere reflection of
the sunlight.
I told her how Steve had made the guards at the prison drunk with wine
bought with her dowry; how the horses he had purchased and taken out
of the camp by twos and threes had been paid for from the same source;
and how many ducats had gone for meats and messes to keep the life,
that still ran sluggishly, in the Waldgrave's veins. She listened and
lay still.
'So you have no dowry now, little one,' I said, when I had told her
all. 'And your gold chain is gone. I believe you have nothing but the
frock you stand up in. Why, then, should I marry you?'
I felt her heart give a great leap under my hand, and a shiver ran
through her. But she did not raise her head, and I, who had thought to
tease her into looking at me, had to put back her little face till it
gazed into mine.
'Why?' I said; 'why?'--drawing her closer and closer to me.
Then the colour came into her face like the sunlight itself. 'Because
you love me,' she whispered, shutting her eyes.
And I did not gainsay her.