"The boy there caught at a glance what you had not found out in a
fortnight. He gets to the duke and blocks my game--for to-day. But if
they sent him ahead to hold us till their men came up, they were fools,
too. I'll have the duke yet, and I'll have you now."
He rushed at the unarmed Yeux-gris. The latter darted at Grammont's
fallen sword, seized it, was on guard, all in the second before Lucas
reached him. He might have been in a fortnight's trance, but he was
awake at last.
I trembled for him, then took heart again, as he parried thrust after
thrust and pressed Lucas hard. I had never seen a man fight with his
left arm before; I had not realized it could be done, being myself
helpless with that hand. But as I watched this combat I speedily
perceived how dangerous is a left-handed adversary. In later years I was
to understand better, when M. le Comte had become known the length of
the land by the title "Le Gaucher." But at this time he was in the
habit, like the rest of the world, of fencing with his right hand; his
dexterity with the other he rated only as a pretty accomplishment to
surprise the crowd. He used his left hand scarcely as well as Lucas the
right; yet, the thrust sinister being in itself a strength, they were
not badly matched. I stood watching with all my eyes, when of a sudden I
felt a grasp on my ankle and the next instant was thrown heavily to the
pavement.
Grammont had come to life and taken prompt part in the fray.
I fell close to him, and instantly he let go my leg and wound his arms
around me. I tried to rise and could not, and we rolled about together
in the wine and blood and broken glass. All the while I heard the
sword-blades clashing. Yeux-gris, God be thanked! seemed to be holding
his own.
Fighting Gervais was like fighting two men. Slowly but steadily he
pressed me down and held me. I struggled for dear life--and could not
push him back an inch.
I still held my knife but my arms were pinned down. Gervais raised
himself a little to get a better clutch, and his fingers closed on my
throat. One grip, and life seemed flowing from me. My arm was free now
if I could but lift it. If I could not, nevermore should I lift it on
this sunny earth. I did lift it, and drove the dagger deep into him.
I could not take aim; I could not tell where the knife struck. A gasp
showed he was hit; then he clinched my throat once more. Sight went from
me, and hearing. "It is no use," I thought, and then thought went, too.
But once again the saints were kind to me. The blackness passed, and I
wondered what had happened that I was spared. Then I saw Grammont
clutching with both hands at the dagger-hilt. After all, the blow had
gone home. I had struck him in the left side under the arm. Three good
inches of steel were in him.
He had turned over on his side, half off me. I scrambled out from under
him. To my surprise, Yeux-gris and Lucas were still engaged. I had
thought it hours since Grammont pulled me down.
As I rose, Yeux-gris turned his head toward me. Only for a second, but
in that second Lucas pinked his shoulder. I dashed between them; they
lowered their points.
"First blood for me!" cried Lucas. "That serves for to-day, M. le Comte.
I regret that I cannot wait to kill you, but that will come. It is
necessary that I go before M. le Duc arrives. Clear the way."
M. le Comte stood his ground, barring the alley. They glared at each
other motionless.
Grammont had raised himself to his knees and was trying painfully to get
on his feet.
"A hand, Lucas," he gasped.
Lucas gave him a startled glance but neither went nor spoke to him.
"I am not much hurt," said Grammont, huskily. Holding by the wall, he
clambered up on his feet. He swayed, reeled forward, and clutched
Lucas's arm.
"Lucas, Lucas, help me! Draw out the knife. I cannot. I shall be myself
when the knife is out. Lucas, for God's sake!"
"You will die when the knife is out," said Lucas, wrenching himself
free. He turned again to M. le Comte, and his eyes gleamed as he saw the
blood trickling down his sleeve and the sword tremble in his hand.
"Come on, then," he cried to Yeux-gris.
But I sprang forward and seized the sword from M. le Comte's hand.
"On guard!" I shouted, and we went to work.
I could handle a sword as well as the next one. M. le Duc had taught me
in his idle days at St. Quentin. It served me well now, and him, too.
The light was fading in the narrow court. Our blades shone white in the
twilight as the weapons clashed in and out. I saw, without looking,
Grammont leaning against the wall, his gory face ashen, and Yeux-gris
watching me with all his soul, now and then shouting a word of advice.
I had had good training, and I fought for all there was in me. Yet I was
a boy not come to my full strength, and Lucas was more than my match. He
drove me back farther and farther toward the house-wall. Of a sudden I
slipped in a smear of blood ('tis no lying excuse, I did slip) and lost
my guard. He ran his blade into my shoulder, as he had done with
Yeux-gris.
He would likely have finished me had not a cry from Grammont shaken him.
"The duke!"
In truth, a deepening noise of hoofs and shouts came down the alley from
the street.
Lucas looked at me, who had regained my guard and stood, little hurt,
between him and M. le Comte. He could not push past me into the house
and so through to the other street. He made for the alley, crying out:
"Au revoir, messieurs! We shall meet again."
Grammont seized him.
"Help me, Lucas, for the love of Christ! Don't leave me, Lucas!"
Lucas beat him off with the sword.
"Every man for himself!" he cried, and sprang down the alley.
"It is not the duke," I said to Yeux-gris. "It is most likely the
watch." I paled at the thought, for the watch was the League's, and
Lucas by all signs the League's tool. It might go hard with us if
captured. "Go through the house, M. le Comte," I cried. "Quick, if you
love your life! I'll keep them at the alley's mouth as long as I can."
Not waiting for his answer, I rushed down the passage. At the end of it
I ran against Lucas, who, in his turn, had bowled into Vigo.