CHAPTER XV.
THE BICKER IN THE SNOW.
Then, seeing Walter Gordon both agitated and uncertain which way toturn, I took out of his shaking hands the poor mishandled head, wrappingit in my plaid, and so led the way down the Canongate towards thekirkyard of the Chapel of Holyroodhouse, where it seemed to me most safeto bury the Thing that had fallen in such marvellous fashion at our feetthat night.
The place I knew well enough. I had often meditated there upon the poorestate of our house. It was half ruinous, and I looked to meet with noman within the precincts on such a night. But short, deceiving, andostrich-blind are all our hopes, for by going that way I brought us intothe greatest danger we could possibly have been in.
For, as we came by the side port of Holyroodhouse, and took the leftwynd which leads to the kirkyard, it seemed that I heard the sound offootsteps coming after me. It was still a night of snow, but the blastof flakes was wearing thinner and the wind less gusty. The moon waswading among great white-edged wreaths as though the snows had beendriven right up to heaven and were clogging the skies.
It was I who led, for my cousin, Wat Gordon, being stopped dead in hisheart's desire, like a dog quivering for the leap that suddenly gets hisdeath-wound, now went forward as one blind, and staggered even in theplain places. Also, it was well that I must guide him, for thus I waskept from thinking of the horrid burden I carried.
We were at the angle of the wall, and going slowly down among thecumbering heaps of rubbish by the dyke-side, when I certainly heard,through the soughing of the wind, and the soft swirl of the snow-flakes,the quick trampling of footsteps behind us. It seemed to me that theycame from the direction of the Queen's Bathhouse, by which, as I nowminded, my Lord Wellwood had built his new house.
I turned in my tracks, and saw half a dozen of fellows running towardsus with their swords drawn; and one who seemed short of stature and illat the running, following after them. Then I pulled quickly at Walter'ssleeve, and said:
"Get you to a good posture of defence, or we are both dead men. Seebehind you!"
At this he turned and looked, and the sight seemed wonderfully to steadyhim. He seemed to come to himself with a kind of joy. I heard him sighas one that casts off a heavy back-burden. For blows were ever mightilyrefreshing to Wat Gordon's spirits, even as water of Cologne is to amim-mouthed, spoiled beauty of the court.
As for me, I had no joy in blows, and little skill in them, so that mydelight was small. Indeed, I felt the lump rise in my throat, and mymouth dried with fear. So that I could hardly keep the tears fromrunning, being heartily sorry for myself because I should never seebonny Earlstoun and my mother again, or any one else in the pleasantsouth country--and all on a business that I had no concern with, beingonly some night-hawk trokings of Wat Gordon's.
But even as he glanced about him, Lochinvar saw where we could bestengage them; for in such things he had the captain's eye, swift andinevitable. It was at the angle of the wall, in which is a wide archwaythat leads into the enclosure of the Palace. The snow had drifted roundthis arch a great sweep of rounded wreaths, and glistened smoothly whitein the moonbeams, but the paved gateway itself was blown clear. Watthrust me behind him, and, throwing down his cloak, cleared his swordarm with a long sobbing intake of breath, which, having a certain greatcontent in it, was curious to hear.
I stood behind him in the dark of the archway, and there I first laiddown my ghastly burden in the corner, wrapping it in my cloak. I made mypistols ready, and also loosened in my belt a broad Italian dagger,shaped like a leaf, wherewith I meant to stick and thrust if any shouldattempt to run in while I was standing on guard. Between me and thelight I could see Walter Gordon, armed in the German fashion, with hisrapier in one hand and his dagger in the other. Suddenly, through thehush of waiting, came running footsteps; and men's figures darkened themoonlight on the snow before the arch.
"Clash!" went the rapiers, and I could catch the glitter of the fire asit flew from their first onset. Walter poised himself on his feet with aquick alternate balancing movement, keeping his head low between hisshoulders, and his rapier point far out. He was in the dark, and thoseabout the mouth of the arch could not well see at what they werestriking, whereas he had them clear against the grey of the moonlit sky.
Steel had not stricken on steel three times when, swift as the flash ofthe lightning when it shines from east to west, I saw Wat's long rapierdart out, and a man fell forward towards him, clinking on the stoneswith the jingle of concealed armour. Yet, armour or no, our Wat's rapierhad found its way within. Wat spurned the fellow with his foot, lest infalling he should grip to pull him down, which was a common trick of thetime, and indeed sometimes resorted to without a wound. But the dark wetstain his body left on the cobble-stones as it turned, told us that hewas sped surely enough.
In a moment the others had come up, and the whole archway seemed full ofthe flicker of flashing swords. Wat's long arm wavered here and there,keeping them all at bay. I could have cried the slogan for pride in him.This was the incomparable sworder indeed, and John Varlet, thatmisbegotten rogue, had not taught him in vain.
"Let off!" he cried to me, never taking his eyes from his foes. "Ease mea little to the right. They are over heavy for my iron on that hand."
So with that, even as I was bidden, and because there was nothing else Icould do, I struck with my broad Italian dagger at a surly visage thatcame cornerwise between me and the sky, and tumbled a tall fellow out ofan angle of the gateway on the top of the first, kicking like a rabbit.The rest were a little dashed by the fall of these two. Still there werefour of them, and one great loon determinedly set his head down, andwrapping his cloak on his arm, he rushed at my cousin, almostoverbearing him for the moment. He broke within Wat's guard, and theswords of the rogue's companions had been in his heart, but just thenLochinvar gave them another taste of his quality. Lightly leaping to theside just out of the measure of the varlet's thrust, and reachingsideways, he struck the man heavily on the shoulder with the dagger inhis left hand, panting with the force of the blow, so that he fell downlike the dead. At the same moment Wat leaned far forward, engaging allthe points of the other swords with his rapier.
They gave back at the quick unexpected attack, and the points of theirswords rose, as it seemed, for no more than a second. But in thatpulse-beat Wat's rapier shot out straight and low, and yet anotherclapped his hand upon his body and cried an oath, ere he too fellforward upon his dead companions. At this the little man, who had stoodall the while in the background, took heart of grace and came forward,and I could see the hilt of the steel-pistol in his hand. He crouchedlow upon his hams, trying to get a sighting shot at us. But I had himclear in the moonbeam, like a pullet on a dyke; and just when I saw hisforefinger twitch on the hammer-pull, I dropped him with a bullet fairin the shoulder, which effectually spoilt his aim, and tumbled himbeside the others.
Then the remaining two threw down their tools and ran, whatever theywere fit, in the direction of the town.
Whereat Walter Gordon with much philosophy straiked his sword on thelapel of one of the dead men's coats, bent its point to the pavement totry its soundness, and returned it to its velvet sheath. Then hesolemnly turned and took me by the hand.
"You are a man, Cousin William," he said.