POOR NICHOLAS!
From the oak to the spot where our horses were tethered was close upon
fifty paces, and never, I think, was ground covered at a speedier rate
by men running for their lives. I was bursting with anger, and know
not what restrained me from pistolling Nicholas, so furious was I at
the blind folly of the man. As we reached the horses, we could hear
the dogs splashing through the spill-water at the edge of the lake,
and someone fired a third shot at us from horseback--a shot in the
dark which whistled through the branches overhead.
'Quick! quick, monsieur! 'gasped Nicholas, and with a turn of his hand
he freed Couronne, and sprang to her back--the great mare standing
steady as a rock.
'Quick!' he called out again more loudly, and I made a vain effort to
loosen my beast, which, startled by the shots, the baying of the dogs,
and our haste and hurry, plunged and kicked as though it were
demented.
'Damn you!' I hissed, half at the horse, half at the crop-eared idiot
who had caused this disaster, and, managing somehow to scramble to the
saddle, cut the halter with a draw of my dagger. At this moment the
dogs reached us; a dark object sprang up from the ground, and,
fastening on the jaws of my horse, brought him to his knees, whilst
the other beast flew at my companion. Nicholas' pistol rang out to no
purpose, the report was echoed by a chorus of shouts from the troopers
following us, and Couronne, swinging round, lashed out with her heels
at the hound that was baying her. Leaning forward with one arm half
round the neck of my snorting horse, I thrust twice at the hound
hanging to him, the first time sliding off his metal collar, but at
the second blow my blade slipped to the hilt into something soft, it
seemed of its own accord, and as the dead dog fell suddenly back,
bearing my poniard with it, my freed horse rose to its feet, and mad
with pain dashed forwards into the teeth of our pursuers. I let him
go--one might as well have tried to stop the rush of a mad bull. By a
miracle I escaped being torn off by the overhanging branches, and as
we raced into the open, Nicholas at my heels shouting 'To the north!
to the north!' we were not twenty paces away from the troopers. My
frantic horse went straight at them, and, driving my spurs home, I
made him leap at the foremost horseman. His animal swerved off--a
piece of good luck for both of us. Then my pistol missed fire, and I
was in the midst of them. The quarters were so close, and the
confusion so great, that at first only those on the outside could use
their weapons, and in their hurry to do so some of these perhaps
struck at each other. One man, however, shortened his sword, and would
have run me through had I not luckily seen the flash of the blade and
given him the heavy iron-bound butt of my pistol on the forehead. He
was probably much hurt, but although he lurched backwards senseless,
so close was the press that he was held in his saddle. The butt of the
pistol was broken off by the blow, and for the moment I was disarmed.
I dared not call out to Nicholas for fear of being recognised; but at
this juncture horse and man on my right seemed to be dashed to earth,
and Nicholas was at my elbow, striking right and left with the heavy
hilt of his sword. Profiting by the relief, I drew out my second
pistol and shot the man before me. Pressing against his mount with my
brave little nag, who was now in hand again, I got clear, and, with a
shout to Nicholas to follow, dashed off towards the north. It was at
this moment that three other riders galloped up, and I heard de
Gomeron call out, '_Sangdieu!_ They are off. After them, dogs,' and
clapping spurs to his beast he rode after us. We had, however, gained
a full twenty yards' start, which was more than trebled by the few
seconds' delay before the troopers could recover themselves and
follow. My horse was going at racing pace; but Couronne kept by his
side with a long and effortless stride. De Gomeron was at our heels,
and with a sudden rush ranged alongside of Nicholas. The sergeant
possibly did not recognise his assailant, and managed somehow to parry
the cut aimed at him, and the next moment de Gomeron's horse stumbled
and went down; but the man himself, who was a rare horseman, fell on
his feet like a cat. It was, however, a moment more of respite, and
Nicholas, with a wild cheer, dashed into the forest, riding recklessly
through the trees. We both leaned forward to the necks of our horses,
and as far as I was concerned I made no attempt to guide my beast, but
let him follow Couronne, who, surefooted as a stag, turned and twisted
amongst the trees with almost human forethought. The single hound that
was left strained bravely behind us; but, mindful probably of the fate
that had overtaken his brother, made no direct attack. As we dashed
into the wood the troopers attempted to follow; but it was with a
relaxed speed, and every moment we were distancing them, and their
cries, shouts, and curses became fainter and more faint. I began to
think if we could but be rid of the sleuthhound, we would get off with
whole skins. The beast was, however, not to be shaken off, and,
avoiding the heels of the horses, came with a _lop_, _lop_, through
the leaves alongside my nag, just out of reach of the point of my
sword, which I had managed to draw. As he snapped and growled, my
horse, already once wounded, and still smarting with pain, shied off
from him, bruising my leg against a tree trunk, in the bark of which
my spur remained, and all but unseating me. Another shy amongst the
trees would have finished my business, for the pain of the bruise at
the moment was exquisite; but, leaping a fallen log, Nicholas burst
through a juniper bush, and my horse following him, we came on to an
open stretch which sloped down to the river.
'_Ouf!_ Out of it at last!' I gasped out to Nicholas.
'It's a mile yet to the river, monsieur,' he answered, slackening pace
slightly to allow me to get alongside of him.
The dog, however, was not yet shaken off, and kept steadily beside my
horse. In the bright moon I could see him running freely and easily;
and, much as I cursed his presence there, I could not help but admire
the gallant beast. He seemed to know perfectly the danger that lay in
the long shining sword, that thrust out at him like a snake's tongue
whenever he came too near.
I, however, owed him one for the bruise, and it was not a time to
waste in admiring things. So I called to Nicholas.
'Slacken pace a little more. I want to be rid of the dog.'
'We can kill him in the river,' answered the sergeant.
'Better stop him here,' and Nicholas obeyed.
Seeing us slacken, the hound tried to head the horses. This was
exactly what I wanted; and shortening the reins, I pulled round my nag
suddenly, right upon the dog, and, stooping low, gave him a couple of
inches in the quarters as he attempted to double. It was not a wound
that would kill. I had no intention, unless forced to, of doing that;
but it had the desired effect, and he fled back howling with pain.
'Adieu, monsieur!' I cried out after him with a laugh, and joining the
sergeant we cantered on through the clearing towards the river.
The ill-will I felt towards Nicholas had gone by this time. He had
borne himself like a brave man, as he was; and, after all, if I had
been in his position I would perhaps have done the same, and let drive
at de Gomeron at sight. My little nag, however, at this time began to
show signs of distress, and I turned my attention from the sergeant to
husbanding the poor beast's strength--patting him on his foam-covered
neck to encourage him, and speaking to him in the manner that horses
love. _Pardieu!_ If men only knew it, there are moments when a touch
of the hand and a kind word are better than four-inch spurs.
We came to a narrow patch now, and rode down this, the river being in
sight, winding like a silver ribbon thrown carelessly down. On the
opposite bank it was overhung with willows, whose drooping boughs
swung low to the very surface of the water. Here and there the stump
of a felled tree stood up like a sentinel. In the distance, behind us,
we could hear one or two of the troopers, who had by this time managed
to get through the wood, yelling and shouting as they urged their
horses towards the river. Doubtless more would soon follow, and I
cursed them loudly and heartily. Nicholas looked back.
'But fifteen yards of a swim, monsieur, and we are safe.'
'Not exactly. See there?'
The sergeant followed my outstretched blade, and swore too. Right
before us two men galloped out of a strip of coppice that stretched to
the water's edge and cut us off from the stream.
'_Sacrebleu!_ How did they know that cut? Have at them, monsieur.'
And we did.
It had to be a matter of moments only. The troopers behind were coming
on, and, if once they reached us, we could not well hope to escape
again; the odds were too many. I did not, therefore, waste time, but
went straight for my man, and, to do him justice, he seemed nothing
loath to meet me. He cut over the shoulder, and, receiving this on my
forte, I gave him the point in the centre of his breastplate, making
it ring like a bell. Only a Milanese corselet could have saved him as
it did. My nag went on, but turned on its haunches to the reins, and
before he could well recover himself I was at him again, and
discovered that he wore a demi-mask on his face.
'Monsieur, shall I prick your mask off before killing you?' I mocked,
suiting the words to a thrust that all but effected the object, and
ripped him on the cheek.
He was a good swordsman, but this made him beside himself with
passion, and this frantic state, and the sound of his voice as he kept
cursing me, told me that my opponent was none other than Biron
himself. Now came a serious difficulty, which I had to consider like
lightning. Did I kill him, and he was an infant in my hands, there
could be no hope for me--he was too great--too highly placed for me to
have any chance if I compassed his death. Therefore, as I pressed him,
I called out loud enough for him to hear, 'Marshal, you are mad--go
back--you are known to me.'
He thrust at me for answer; but I could stand no more nonsense, and,
getting within his guard, struck him off his horse with a blow from
the hilt of my sword, and, wasting not a second more on him, turned to
the assistance of Nicholas.
It was much needed, for the sergeant's opponent was none other than de
Gomeron himself, who had remounted after his fall, and, by cutting off
a corner, intercepted us, almost with complete success. How Nicholas
held his own against this finished swordsman for even so long a period
as a half-minute I am unable to say. It was doubtless due to the
strength of his bitter hatred, and his fury for revenge. Even as it
was, I was too late. As I dashed towards him, Nicholas fairly screamed
out:
'Leave him to me--he is--a--ah!'
He never finished, for de Gomeron saw his chance and passed his sword
through the sergeant's throat, and he fell limply from Couronne a dead
man.
Before, however, the free-lance could recover himself I was on him,
and, standing in my stirrups, cut at him with the full swing of my
sword. He parried like lightning, but the force of the blow beat down
his guard, and although my blade fell flat upon his steel cap, he went
down like an ox.
Poor Nicholas was gone! I knew that thrust, and once received there
was nothing for it but masses for the soul. A half-dozen troopers were
not two hundred yards away, and life lay on the other side of the
Eure. I went straight on, and jumped my horse into the stream. It was
running high and deep, and as I fell into the water with a splash and
hiss of white foam around me, I heard another heavy plunge close to my
shoulder, and, in the glance I cast towards the sound, saw that it was
the now riderless Couronne, who had followed her companion of the
night. To ease the horse, I slipped from the saddle, and, hanging on
to the pommel, was towed along by him as the good beast breasted the
stream bravely. _Pardieu!_ How the yellow water grumbled and foamed
and bubbled around us. The current set towards the opposite bank, and
the force of it carried us down, it seemed in a moment, fully fifty
yards from the spot where we had plunged in, to within a few feet of
the opposite shore. Here, however, the river ran strong and swiftly,
the bank was high, and the horses could make no headway, but kept
drifting down. By this time the troopers had reached the scene of the
fight, and I could hear them howling with anger as they gathered
around their fallen leaders, and, without a head to guide them,
hesitated what to do, each moment of delay giving me precious time,
and bringing me closer to a shelving bank a few yards to the left. Not
one of the troopers dared the stream, and they had apparently emptied
their arquebuses after us in pursuit, for none fired, although they
called to each other, 'Shoot him down--shoot him down!'
A couple of men galloped down stream a little below me, and,
dismounting, began to load hurriedly, it being evidently their
intention to pick me off as I drifted past. For the moment I gave
myself up for lost; but, determining to make a last effort to save
myself, made a snatch at the willows that overhung the bank and
brushed us with their wet and dripping leaves as we struggled
underneath. As I did this, I loosed my hold of the saddle, and the
horses slid past me, and I was dragged by the current right into the
bank. The willows were tough, and I held on to them like a leech, and
the troopers, who had seen what I was about, began to laugh at me, and
adjure me to hold on tight as they would be ready to shoot in a
moment. The fools! They gave me the moment's time I wanted, and,
digging my boot into the soft bank, I laid hold of the stem of a
willow and with an effort reached the shore. I rolled over at full
length, and then lay flat on my face, whilst the troopers with many
curses ran forward a few feet and let off their arquebuses, on the off
chance of bringing me down. They aimed truly enough, and had I not
lain to earth as I did, I should infallibly have been killed, for the
bullets whizzed past, it seemed, but a few inches above me. I let out
a yell as if I was mortally hurt, and then rising, ran down stream
behind the willows as fast as my bruised leg would allow me, to see if
I could not get back one or both the horses. My stratagem had the
desired effect, for on my cry of 'I am dead--I am dead,' two others of
the men who had run up let off their pieces where I was supposed to
be, and they all shouted, 'We have him; he is down.'
'_Morbleu!_ Not yet,' I could hardly refrain from chuckling to myself,
as I hobbled along the bank, and to my joy saw them in a little bay,
about a hundred paces from me, moving slowly in the shallow water. One
behind the other, towards the land. A spur had been thrown out here,
evidently with the object of protecting the bank, and it had cast the
main stream on the opposite shore, and given the beasts a chance of
landing.
I felt my leg at each step I took; but went on at a round pace
somehow, and came up to Couronne just as she was stepping out of the
water. Catching her by the bridle, I mounted, although with some
difficulty, and slipping my hands through the reins of my own nag,
trotted off under cover of the trees, leaving M. de Gomeron, who had
doubtless recovered by this time, and his men to make a target of the
darkness. I had come through somehow, but I was sick and sore at
heart, as I urged Couronne from a trot to a gallop, when I thought of
poor Nicholas lying dead by the banks of the Eure.