CHAPTER XXIII
HUGO OF THE BROADAXE
But as for me, sleep I could not. And indeed that is small wonder. For itwas the first night I had ever slept out of the Red Tower in my life. Iseemed to lack some necessary accompaniment to the act of going to sleep.
It was a long while before I could find out what it could be that wasdisturbing me. At last I discovered that it was the howling of thekennelled blood-hounds which I missed. For at night they even raged, andleaped on the barriers with their forefeet, hearing mayhap the moving toand fro of men come sleeplessly up from the streets of the city beneath.
But here, within a long day's march of Thorn, I had come at once into anew world. Slowly the night dragged on. The candle guttered. A draught ofair blew fitfully through the corridor in which we lay. It carried theflame of the candle in the opposite direction. I wondered whence it couldcome, for the air had been still and thick before. Yet I was glad of thestir, for it cooled my temples, and I think that but for one thing Imight have slept. And had I fallen on sleep then no one of us might havewaked so easily. What I heard was no more than this--once or twice theflame of the candle gave a smart little "spit," as if a moth or a fatblue-bottle had forwandered into it and fallen spinning to the groundwith burned wings. Yet there were no moths in the chambers, or we shouldhave seen them circling about the lights at the time of supper.Nevertheless, ere long I heard again the quick, light "_plap_!" Andpresently I saw a pellet fall to the ground, rolling away from the wallalmost to the edge of the straw on which I lay.
I reached out a hand for it, and in a trice had it in my fingers. It wassoft, like mason's putty. "Plop!" came another. I was sure now. Some onewas shooting at the flame of the candle with intent to leave us in thedark. Jorian and Boris snored loudly, sleeping like true men-at-arms. Ineed say no more.
I lay with my head in the shadow, but by moving little by little, withsleepy grunts of dissatisfaction, I brought my face far enough round tosee through the straw the window at the far end of the passage, which, asI had discovered upon our first coming, opened out upon a ravine runningat right angles to the street by which we had come.
Presently I could see the lattice move noiselessly, and a white faceappeared with a boy's blow-gun of pierced bore-tree at its lips.
"Alas!" said I to myself, "that I had had these soldiers' skill of theknife throwing. I would have marked that gentleman." But I had not even abow--only my sword and dagger. I resolved to begin to learn the practiceof pistol and cross-bow on the morrow.
"_Plap! Scat!_" The aim was good this time. We were in darkness. Ilistened the barest fragment of a moment. Some one was stealthilyentering at the window end.
"Rise, Jorian and Boris!" I cried. "An enemy!"
And leaping up I ran to relight the candle. By good luck the wick was asound, honest, thick one, a good housewife's wick--not such as are madeto sell and put in ordinary candles of offertory.
The wick was still red, and smoked as I put my hands behind it and blew."_Twang! Twang! Zist! Zist!_" went the arrows and bolts thickly about me,bringing down the clay dust in handfuls thickly from the walls.
"Down on your stomachs--they are shooting crosswise along the passage !"cried Jorian, who had instantly awakened. I longed to follow the advice,for I felt something sharp catch the back of my undersuit of softleather, in which, for comfort, I had laid me down to sleep. But I _must_get the candle alight. Hurrah! the flame flickered and caught at last."_Twang! Twang!"_ went the bows, harder at it than ever. Somethinghurtled hotly through my hair--the iron bolt of an arbalest, as I knew bythe song of the steel bow in a man's hand at the end of the passage.
"Get into a doorway, man!" cried Boris, as the light revealed me.
And like a startled rabbit I ran for the nearest--that within whichHelene and the Lady Ysolinde were lying asleep. The candle, as I havesaid, was set deep in a niche, which proved a great mercy for us. For ourfoes, who had thought to come on us by fraud, could not now shoot it out.Also, in relighting it, in my eagerness to save myself from the hissingarrows behind me, I had pushed it to the very back of the shrine. I hadno weapon now but my dagger, for, in rising to relight the candle, I hadcarelessly and blamefully left my sword in the straw. And I felt veryuseless and foolish as I stood there to bide the assault with only a bitof guardless knife in my hand.
Suddenly, however, there came a diversion.
"Crash !" went a gun in my very ear. Flame, smoke--much of both--and thestifling smell of sulphur. Jorian had fired at the face of the pop-gunknave. That putty-white countenance had a crimson plash on it ere itvanished. Then came back to us a scream of dreadful agony and the soundof a heavy fall outside.
"End of act the first! The Wicked Angels--hum, hum--go to hell! All inthe day's work!" cried Jorian, cheerily, recharging his pistolet anddriving home the wadding as he spoke.
It may well be imagined that during our encounter with the assailants ofthe candle, whose transverse fire had so nearly finished me, the companyout in the great kitchen had not been content to lie snoring on theirbacks. We could hear them creeping and whispering out there beyond thedoors; but till after the shot from the soldier's pistolet they had notdared to show us any overt act of hostility.
Suddenly Jorian, once more facing the door, now that the passage wasclear, perceived by the rustling of the straw that it began to opengradually. He waited till in another moment it would have been wideenough to let in a man.
"Back there, dog, or I fire!" he bellowed. And the door waspromptly shut to.
After that there came another period of waiting very difficult to getover. I wished with all my heart for a cross-bow or any shooting weapon.Much did I reproach myself that I had not learned the art before, as Imight easily have done from the men-at-arms about the Wolfsberg, who, formy father's sake (or Helene's), would gladly have taught me.
The women folk in the room behind my back were now up and dressed.Indeed, the Lady Ysolinde would have come out and watched with us, but Ibesought her to abide where she was. Presently, however, Helene put herhead without, and seeing me stand by the door with my sword, she asked ifI wanted anything. She appeared to have forgotten her unkind good-night,and I was not the man to remind her of it.
"Only another weapon, Sweetheart, besides this prick-point small-sword!"said I, looking at the thing in my hand I doubt not a trifle scornfully.
Helene shut to the door, and for a space I heard no more. Presently,however, she opened it again, and thrust an axe with a long handlethrough to me. It was the very fellow of the weapon I had used on thependent calf in the kitchen. I understood at once that it was her apologyand her justification as well. For the Little Playmate was ever astraight lass. She ever did so much more than she promised, and ever saidless than her heart meant. Which perhaps is less common than the otherway about--especially among women.
"I found it on my incoming and hid it under the bed!" she said.
Then judge ye if I sheathed not my small-sword right swiftly, and madethe broadaxe blade, to the skill of which I had been born, whistlethrough the air. For a mightily strange thing it is that, though I hadever a rooted horror at the thought of my father's office itself, andfrom my childhood never for a moment intended to exercise it,nevertheless I had always the most notable facility in cutting things.Never to this day have I a stick in hand, when I walk abroad among theragweed waving yellow on the grassy pastures below the Wolfsberg, but Imust need make wagers with myself to cut to an inch at the heads of thetallest and never miss. And this I can do the day by the length, andnever grow weary. Then again, for pleasaunce, my father used to put meto the cutting of light wood with an axe, not always laying it upon ablock or hag-clog, but sometimes setting the billet upright and makingme cut the top off with a horizontal swing of the axe. And in this Ibecame exceedingly expert. And how difficult it is no one knows till hehas tried.
So it is small wonder that as soon as I gripped the noble broadaxe whichHelene passed me I felt my own man again.
Then we wer
e silent and listened--and ever again listened and held ourbreaths. Now I tell you when an enemy is whispering unseen without,rustling like rats in straw, and you wonder at what point they will breakin next, thinking all the while of the woman you love (or do not yetlove, but may) in the chamber behind--I tell you a castle is somethingless difficult to hold at such a time than just one's own breath.
Suddenly I heard a sound in the outer chamber which I knew the meaningof. It was the shifting of horses' feet as they turn in narrow space toleave their stalls. Our good friends were making free with our steeds.And, if we were not quick about it, we should soon see the last of them,and be compelled to traverse the rest of the road to Plassenburg upon ourown proper feet.
"Jorian," cried I, "do you hear? They are slipping our horses out of thestalls! Shall you and I make a sortie against them, while Boris with thatpistol of his keeps the passage from the wicks of the middle door?"
"Good!" answered Jorian. "Give the word when you are ready."
With axe in my right hand, the handle of the door in my left, I gavethe signal.
"When I say 'Three!' Jorian!"
"Good!" said Jorian.
Clatter went the horses' hoofs as they were being led towards the door.
"One! Two! Three!" I counted, softly but clearly.