One of my guards brought breakfast for us all. It was then that I observed for the first that my companion, the scrivener, was nowhere to be seen. He must have slipped out in the dead of night, unnoticed. The men looked at each other in question, puzzled, but I smiled to myself. I knew it was one of those little tricks that he so dearly loved to play.
We went once again out on the highway. The sun was up big and red. Three of the men remained at the inn, but the fourth, a fellow called Pierre, was to lead me far down the valley of the Loire. For days I was to be his prisoner. I was to eat and sleep with him. He was to be all the companion I was to have, so I determined I would make the best of it and be on as friendly a footing as I could.
But I found from the first that he was the surliest and coarsest man alive. During the afternoon, he scarcely uttered a word, but went on grumbling and muttering to himself. His face wore a perpetual scowl. He kicked viciously at the stones along the road as if they were actually his enemies. He complained of the long journey ahead of us.
“One man gets the money,” he said under his breath. “Another does the work.”
“You don’t have to go,” I said. “If you say the word, I’ll leave you.”
He shot a look at me that was enough to kill me.
“Try it,” he growled. And his jaws came together with a snap.
After that I shrank back into my shell. I knew I was in company with a savage. At the slightest sign of trifling, I was convinced, he would stick a dagger into my heart and leave me on the road to die.
At noon we halted in the shade of the trees along the side of the highway. He took from his shoulder a packet which he had brought from the inn. In it were a lump of cheese and a length of hard bread. With as much deliberation as he could show, he took a dagger from his coat and wiped the blade two or three times over the knees of his trousers. Then he cut the cheese into squares and tore the bread into pieces with his hands. As though I were only an animal to be fed, he tossed them to me through the air.
The first piece flew past me and fell into the dirt. The second landed at my feet. Another caught me in the chest and tumbled in between my folded hands. I was hungry, of course, but the manner of the man sickened me. So I sat there glaring into his face.
He fell to with the appetite of a bear. He stuffed one lump after another between his teeth and shoved them into his mouth with his thumb. He gulped to swallow and that so hard that I thought he would choke. When he had eaten twice as much as an ordinary man he rose and threw what remained into my lap.
“You should starve,” he said, “—you spy!”
“I am no spy,” I declared.
He made no answer but gave me a look that was filled with hate.
I picked up the pieces that were clean and began to eat slowly. Thoughts of my home and of the comfort I had there started to run through my mind. A burning anger rose within me that I should be treated thus by a fellow who was no equal of mine—who should have been glad to run at my beck and call.
Without a word of warning he came over and caught me by the collar. With a swift jerk he landed me on my feet. I was amazed at the suddenness of it and the enormous strength of the man. I was sure that he could have held me in the air with his outstretched arm as easily as I could have held a bundle of straw.
We were on the road again, both going along in silence. During the afternoon, I noticed small groups of men, some clad as ordinary soldiers, some in finer dress like captains and officers, others on horseback with armor and coats of mail. I had seen the like before in the village at home to be sure, for in my day there was always war in this or that part of France to attract the minds of men. But what struck me was that these were all going in the same direction (towards the west); they all seemed bent on the same errand; and they were so numerous that I was set wondering.
That night we found no place in an inn. The common room was crowded to the doors with swashbuckling soldiers of every kind. Loud talk and boasting filled the air, together with the clanking of swords, the thumping of heavy boots on the floor, the clamoring of men hungry for their supper, quarrels over this or that and even blows struck and returned.
We were lucky to get any food at all, but the worst of it all was that we were forced to sleep in the open. Pierre found a spot in the shelter of the barn where we would be protected from the wind. He brought an armful of straw and scattered it over the ground. Then he took from his pockets two strands of rope and bade me lie down. He tied one strand firmly about my right wrist, the other about my left. The ends he drew apart in opposite directions, tying one to a post at the corner of the barn, the other he fastened on the other side of me to a stone that was imbedded in the soil.
It was as though I was stretched out like a cross. I could move my hands outwards as far as I liked. But when I drew them together as far as the ropes allowed, they remained more than a foot apart. If I rolled over on my side the one arm was behind me and the other in front. If I had tried to get to my feet, I wouldn’t have been halfway up before I would have been forced down again.
It was thus I passed the night. You can imagine that I slept only in fits and starts, for as soon as I was in a doze I was sure to stir and the tautness of the ropes, with the pain awakened me.
The day came as a relief. My captor let me lie until he brought me my breakfast. Then he loosed my bonds. After we had eaten we started out on the journey that was becoming irksome and even a torment.
That day passed about the same as the first. We toiled along the road for the most part in gloomy silence. The soldiers were pouring in thicker and thicker. Sometimes as many as two hundred of them in a single body passed us so that we were forced to leave the highway and stand on the banks to let them go by.
At another time later on a great lord from the east swept along. He was dressed in shining armor from head to heel. In his helmet waved a plume of feathers dyed red and white and a broadsword hung in its glittering scabbard by his side. In his train were at least five hundred followers, some of them of almost as high degree as he; others with long lances rode directly behind him, while further back a troop of archers completed the array.
It was a sight to admire. From where we had halted on the side of the road, my captor pointed at them with his finger.
“That,” said he, “is what you have come to see.”
His grimness puzzled me.
“Has a war broken out?” I asked.
“Not yet,” was the answer, “—and it will never be called a war. These men are on their way to crush the Black Prince of England.”
I drew a long breath.
“—the Black Prince!” I exclaimed. “Why, you can’t do that. There is not a leader alive who can cope with him in the field.”
A slow smile came over his face.
“Within a week, there will be fifteen thousand men on their way down this valley,” he replied. “The Black Prince is far off towards the west. He is as ignorant of this preparation as a child.”
“But he’ll learn of it?” I said.
My captor shook his head.
“He’ll be struck with the suddenness of a thunderbolt. We’re going to cut him off at Poitiers—when he starts back to his headquarters at Bordeaux.” He snapped his fingers in contempt. “He has seven thousand men who are half starved, weak from long marches and disease. What can they do against these?”
He pointed with pride at the men marching past.
“When the Black Prince is a prisoner of the King of France,” he went on, scowling in my face with a wicked grin, “we shall move against Normandy——”
“The Norman Barons can defeat any army the French can send against them!” I cried. “They have proved that more than once.”
He clenched his fingers over my arm till the pain of it shot up through my shoulder.
“No, they won’t,” he said, gritting his teeth. “They won’t have time to unite.”
“I see it all now,” I cried again. “That is why De Marsac is so anxious. He thinks he has a claim on our estates already. He can’t wait——”
A hard expression covered his countenance.
“Before the snow flies I shall be toasting my shins before the fire-place in your house,” my captor boasted. “De Marsac has promised that I shall be the bailiff when he is master there.”
A long breath like a sob broke from my throat. It was plain to me now for the first time why I was sent on this errand down the valley of the Loire.
“Have you ever heard of a youth called ‘Charles of Gramont’?” I demanded.
“Of course,” came the answer, “he’s the son of the old Count. He was a prisoner of ours for a while—but escaped——”
“—escaped?” The word jumped from my mouth.
“Yes,” was the reply. “Gone. Like smoke in the air.”
“He has joined the Black Prince!” I exclaimed. “I am glad of that. He will let him know of the danger he is in.”
My captor threw back his head and uttered a low grunt that was meant for a laugh.
“A fly couldn’t get out of this valley—or into it—unless we knew it,” he said. “That lad has either starved to death or is hiding somewhere in the woods.”
A thrill of joy ran up and down every nerve in my body. For a while I stood staring at the soldiers passing before us, but with eyes that did not see. A world of new thoughts was seething in my brain. Then a fresh notion came to me.
“Just to think how I have wasted my time,” I said slyly to my captor. “I was sent here to find him. I might as well have remained at home.”
He turned on me with a knowing look.
“You weren’t sent here for any purpose of the kind,” he answered with as much cunning as he could show. “You came to learn of this army that is passing down the valley of the Loire. You were to find out the numbers of it, where it was heading, how soon it would be ready to strike. In one word you were sent here as a spy!”
If I had had the strength, I would have felled him with a blow. Yet for all that I now realized that every syllable he uttered was the naked truth. If I had been told in the beginning that I was to act as a sneak, (as he said “a spy”) I would have refused boldly and I was sent in blindness to follow a false trail. I was duped into a position that was contrary to my ideas of manliness and honor.
I had information that the Black Prince would give half a kingdom to know. The cruelties of De Marsac and the men whom he had set on my heels were as humiliating as ever I had suffered. His trickery and deceit were of the kind that no man of self-respect would practice. It was his aim to drive my brother and me from the home which our family had enjoyed for generations. All these things galled me and drove me to a kind of desperation. The thought came slowly to me to be sure, but while I stood gazing on the soldiers whose mission was to destroy the only friend that Normandy had at this time—the Black Prince—I resolved that I would go no further with my captor than force compelled me. I would watch every opportunity. I would play the fox to the last degree. When the time came I would try once more to escape. If I could get through that circle of men who guarded the Valley of the Loire I would risk my very life to inform the Black Prince of the plans that were ripening against him, for I knew that if I did, I would be saving my home in Normandy.
My chance came three days later. During this time we had traveled a long way. When the sun was up we plodded along footsore and weary. At night we lay down wherever we were able to find a soft place in the grass or under the protection of a tree. The inns were crowded, not only with soldiers but with all the riff-raff of humanity. Wandering jugglers and mountebanks, sleight-of-hand artists, men with bears on ropes, quack doctors of medicine who sold simples made of the roots of marvelous trees,—all these and more lined the highway. Their booths were set up alongside the inns. They barked and called to the passers-by. They were the followers of an army who sapped the soldiers of their hard earned pay.
As for myself I was almost sick of life. My companion was in the sourest of moods. He growled at his ill luck and laid the blame for it at my door. He took every occasion to make me miserable, now by threats, again by actual brutality. He gave me only the coarsest fare which he could purchase in the inns. And to make me the more miserable he chose the daintiest morsels for himself and taunted me while he shoved them down his throat.
By the third day we were come almost to the boundaries of the Kingdom of France. To the west of us lay a stretch of country which was as wild as a desert. It was only sparsely inhabited. The inhabitants owed no allegiance to any ruler alive. They were neither on the side of the Black Prince nor the King, for the country was half way between the two. In one word, it was the stamping ground for war and whoever had the upper hand was for the time its lord.
It was about noon when we left the highway, for here it took a sharp turn towards the south, and continued our journey over a narrow path through the woods. There was a winding path that was beaten bare—used by many feet. My captor seemed well acquainted with the lay of the land for he went ahead with all the confidence in the world and indeed with more buoyancy than he had shown on the entire journey.
At length we came to the banks of the stream, at a place with a long shelving landing made of smooth stones, paved clear down to the water’s edge. A rusted length of chain and a long boat-hook lay in the grass. To my observation it was a landing for a ferry.
My companion bade me halt.
“Where’s the boat?” he asked, gazing around. “They told me that the boat would be here to take us across.”
He picked up the chain and threw it down again. He walked to and fro several times as though he was turning a question over in his mind. Then he came to a stop before me.
“Can you swim?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I answered.
He sat down on a rock and began to remove his shoes. To throw him off his guard I did the same. When we had stripped ourselves he bade me tie my clothes into a firm bundle and fasten them around my neck. We went into the water a little at a time. The current was fairly swift, for it gathered here to broaden out into a wide sweep far beyond. I cast my eyes carefully down the river and saw that in the middle of this broadening lay an island, not very big to be sure, but covered with tall trees that grew so thick that the branches were woven into one another.
“It is now or never,” I thought.
In the next moment we were beyond our depths. I saw at once that my captor was as much at home in the water as he was on land. He swam with long, easy strokes and with no sense of fatigue. He kept his head continually turned toward me as a cat watches a mouse. I for my part paid no heed to him, for I was busy with thoughts of my own.
Slowly, a bit at a time, I began to loose the knot that bound my clothes about my neck. When it was entirely free the bundle floated off. The weight of my shoes soon sank it beneath the surface. With a cry I dived after it. I drew myself as far under the water as I could. I put all the strength I had into every stroke. I held my breath so that no bubbles would arise and inform my captor where I was. It was down-stream with the current in a straight line.
I rose to the surface to fill my lungs and looked back. He was swimming after me, lashing the water with his great hands like some monster. His face was heavy with anger and his teeth shone white like the fangs of a wolf when he breathed.
Once again I dived as far as I could go. This time I did not swim straight ahead but swerved off towards the left. If I could throw him off long enough for him to get beyond me in the current, I would have the better of him and be surer of my escape.
But he was as wary as a fox. When I came up for the second time he was in the middle of the river but moving more slowly. His eyes roamed continually searching for some trace of me. When he saw that I had edged off to one side, he raised his fist out of the water and shook it viciously in my direction and shouted a threat which I did not clearly hear.
I was down again under the surface. To puzzle him the more, I made for it with all speed towards the island. If I once set my foot upon it I could lose him among the trees. I could swim to the mainland that lay either on the right or the left. It would be a chase in which I would have an even chance. If I had a speck of luck, it would mean my deliverance.
The thought strengthened me. This time I held my breath so long that I felt I would burst. When I arose I cast a swift glance around. To my surprise he was nowhere to be seen. He had gone under the water. He was swimming somewhere, perhaps quite near to grapple with me in case he could lay hands on me. Perhaps he had decided that I was bound for the island and that, if he could get there before me, he could conceal himself behind a tree and pounce on me as I came to land.
I lingered a moment in doubt. To fall into a trap would be the height of folly. I was now as good as free. I was near the left bank of the stream. Not far off was the dry land and grass and tall trees. A new enemy was better than an old one. I took the risk. With slow even strokes I made my way to the shore and climbed in among the high weeds on the sloping bank.
You may be certain that every move I made was with the greatest caution. I hid myself from view and peered out through the brush. Before I drew half a dozen breaths I saw my captor rise to the surface far down the stream. He looked in every direction. Then as though he had made up his mind he swam swiftly with the current straight for the island and drew himself up on the shore.
It was close on to dusk. The sun was shining over the tops of the trees to the west. A soft breeze started which, wet as I was, sent the shivers through my body. There was one thing sure. I could not go far with no clothes. Nor could I risk sleeping in the open naked as I was, for it would be the death of me.
I resolved that, come what might, as soon as it got dark, I would swim for the island. There would be danger, to be sure. But I was certain that my man would be there drying his clothes. I would be in the protection of the trees. There was no light. If I could come upon him unawares, I might snatch enough to cover me. Then I could make off with all my speed and lose him in the woods.
It was worth the try. Indeed it was the only thing I could do. I sat huddled there on the bank of the stream until the sun had disappeared and the blackness of night covered the earth. I slid into the water. With long, easy strokes I headed for the island. In a few minutes I was dragging myself up on dry land.
I was chilled to the bone. The touch of my feet on the hard earth made my going slow and cautious. Now and then I stubbed my toe on a sharp stone that made me wince. But even with that I advanced in among the trees.
My ears were keyed for the slightest sound and my eyes glanced round with the wariness of a cat’s. I stopped once in a while to listen for the cracking of a twig, which was the surest sign that my man was near. I scarcely breathed. It was one step after the other, and every time I put my foot down I felt the ground as carefully as you would with your hand.
After a quarter of an hour I had advanced, maybe two or three hundred paces. My eyes were so accustomed to the dark that the trunks of the trees were dimly outlined against the background of the night. As I peered on ahead it seemed that a faint glow of a far off light shone like a veil through the woods. I halted. It must be my captor who by some means that I could not puzzle out had lighted a fire.
I groped around on the ground until I found a stout stick that would serve me as a weapon. With this firmly grasped in my hand I grew all the bolder, so that with less caution than before I went on towards the place where I was sure there was the light.
In another quarter of an hour I was leaning against the trunk of a tree from which position I could plainly see the blaze. It was in the centre of an open space in the forest, on bare hard ground covered with stones and boulders. I wanted to make certain of myself so I moved in a broad circle around the fire, darting a glance here, a glance there so as not to be taken by surprise.
At length I came back to the point from where I had started. Not a soul did I notice on my rounds. I walked in closer and closer with the club balanced ready in my hand. I could feel the heat. The fire blazed and shot off sparks high into the branches of the trees. Then at last I was able to spy the form of a man sitting on a rock. He had a long stick with which he was stirring up the embers. He seemed to be without a care in the world, but what amazed me most was that he was not naked, as I expected my captor to be, but fully clothed.
From where I was, of course, I saw him only dimly. I watched him for a long while toying with the fire as idly as a child. Then he rose and moved towards the left, for the smoke was floating in his face. He must have been blinded for the moment, for he put his fist in his eyes to rub them.
I was trembling with anxiety. I gave one more glance about in every direction. Suddenly I noticed a form—the naked figure of a man—crawling on his hands and knees from out the fringe of woods. He had a club bigger and heavier than my own, which he pushed before him on the ground. Like a flash he straightened himself. The man who was fully clad had his back to him and was still rubbing his eyes. It was my captor, who now began to run forward like an animal eager to fell its prey. He lifted the club high over his head. His eyes shone with savage eagerness in the light of the fire and a grin of victory spread over his countenance.
For a second I was paralyzed with fright. Then I collected myself. I cast all caution aside and ran likewise out of the woods. Just as the club was poised in the air ready to fall I called out in a terrified voice the words, “Look out!”
My voice was pitched high and resounded in the silence of the woods like the crack of a crashing thunderbolt.
The man who was clad jumped as though he had been stuck with a spear and edged off to one side. The club came down. It was a little beside its mark, but even then it struck the man on the side and knocked the breath out of him so that he fell in pain to the ground.
I had betrayed myself to my captor. He had heard my voice and turned. I was coming up at full speed with my staff high in the air. I did not hesitate. With a swinging motion, before he could right himself, I caught him as hard a blow as I could deal and sent him face down sprawling in the dirt.
I had no time to lose. My captor would soon struggle to his feet. I knew I was no match for him in a hand-to-hand combat. I would have to have aid. So I went over to the man whom he had knocked senseless and caught him by the shoulder. I shook him to bring him the more quickly to his senses. I turned him over so that I could see his face. Then I let out a gasp that shook me from my heels to my head. Never in the whole course of my life was I more amazed for there before me on the ground was the lad I had come so far to seek, the son of the old Count of Gramont, Charles!
With my heart thumping like a hammer, I did all in my power to bring him around. I chafed his hands and temples. I took him under the arm-pits and lifted him to his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was a look of terror in them first. Then he blinked. It was as though he could hardly trust his senses. He grasped me by the shoulder. He took in a deep breath. A smile of recognition played about his face and I knew that he understood.
“Quick!” I whispered, and pointed to my captor who was now raising himself on one arm.
In a second he threw off his stupor. He ran back to the fire and seized a length of a limb of a tree which he could use as a weapon against his savage foe.
It was none too soon. The fellow had the strength and vitality of an ox. He scrambled to his feet even while Charles was picking up the stick. With his big body swinging from side to side he came running with his arms outstretched like a bear. Charles brought his weapon down. It was a heavy blow, but the fellow caught it on his arm and it glanced off as lightly as if it were against the trunk of a tree. Then with a murmur of hate he rushed in.
You may suppose that I was not standing there in idleness. As soon as I saw what was happening, I wrapped my fist about my club. I knew that the first blow would be my last. I put every speck of strength in it and made the aim as accurate as my haste would allow. To my joy I met the fellow along the crown of the head. The jar of it shot along the bone of my arm that I thought it was broken. But my victim reeled. His knees sagged and shook. His mouth opened and his eyes turned upward, showing all their white. Like a weight that was suddenly let drop he fell in a heap on the ground.
He was as good as dead. I gave a sign to Charles to give me a hand. Between the two of us we dragged and carried him to the side of the island. There we laid him down until he showed by the blinking of his eyes that he was regaining his senses. When his strength had come back so that he was able to stir, we took him under the arms and the crooks of his legs and heaved him into the river as far as we could swing him.
“He’ll waken as soon as he touches the water,” said Charles.
“What then?” I asked. “Will he come back?”
He shook his head.
“No. He’ll go for help. He knows me. He was one of the men who brought me down the valley of the Loire. He’ll come again tomorrow with others.”
“We’ll have to get away from here.”
“Tomorrow,” he replied. “We can rest here till dawn.”
“I’m chilled through,” I said, “That fellow has left his clothes lying here somewhere. I’ll dry them and put them on. After that we can sit by the fire.” Charles took me by the shoulder. “Ah, Henri!” he said in a shaking voice. “We’ll battle it through together, you and I. And we’ll win yet!”
We sat by the fire, with each of us telling of his adventures, till far into the night. Then in turns we lay down on a couch of twigs and leaves that Charles had built for himself in the hollow of an overhanging rock. In the morning I had new life. We went down to a cove on the side of the island where Charles had a boat fastened and hidden among the roots of overhanging trees. It was the one, he explained, that my captor had searched for to carry us across the river.
We landed on the other bank and stepped ashore. We went up the steep bank as far as the brow of a hill. The whole country,—wooded and wild,—stretched before us. Whether we would come upon friend or enemy we had yet to learn. We turned and looked back at the river winding in long slow curves at our feet. We saw the island in all its outline as green and peaceful as you could wish.
My eye was caught by an object moving on the opposite shore. When my gaze grew accustomed to the distance I counted six men. Some of them were armed with bows and arrows. The rest were cutting down young trees and dragging them to the river. Now and then I saw the flash of a sword-blade in the light of the sun.
There was no doubt of it. Our enemies were on foot. They were building a raft to carry armed men over to the island. They would search it from end to end. When they learned that we were gone, they would make for our side of the stream. They would leave no stone unturned to find us. They would examine every blade of grass for traces of us. They would be on our heels like hounds. We were in a country that was unknown to us, while they were as familiar with it as I was with my own.
The Black Prince with his army lay twenty or at most thirty leagues to the west. I had information that would save them. One thought drove us headlong on and on—if our enemies should come upon us, there would be no parleying or hesitation. They would shoot us down like dogs.
That day we went on as fast as our legs could carry us. We gauged our position by the sun. During the morning we kept it in our rear while in the afternoon we made sure of ourselves by the shine of it (when there was an opening in the woods) in our faces.
There were no roads that you could speak of—only rutted trails of mud hardly wide enough for two ox-carts to pass without touching the hubs of each other’s wheels. Once in a while we saw the hut of a peasant or a charcoal burner. These we carefully avoided, for we hoped to leave no sign behind us for our enemies to follow, nor did we wish to fall stupidly into a trap. Fortunately it was the season of the year when the nuts were beginning to ripen and we contented ourselves with what we could get of these.
We slept curled up beside each other at the root of a tree. The next morning we were on our way again, but I may say with less speed, for our feet were sore from the unevenness of the ground and our bodies were stretched and tired from the uncomfortable position in which we had spent the night.
About noon we halted for a rest. There was a little brook running over irregular stones down the hill-side where we washed ourselves and drank of the fresh water. I was sitting on a boulder with my back to a tree as limp and wearied as an old cloth. My stomach was rumbling and growling from hunger. I was wishing with all my heart that there would soon be an end to my difficulties. To amuse myself I picked up a stone and threw it aimlessly at a tree. It struck the bark with a resounding crack. I threw another. It missed and went on far beyond. But where it lighted on the ground, I noticed that it stirred up a cloud of dust like fine ashes and with it a few scattered sparks—the smouldering remnants of a fire.
I jumped from my rock. I went over to the place to examine it. Sure enough there was a dying fire on a bare spot among the trees and all about it were the marks where men had trodden the grass with their heavy boots. Besides I saw two pieces of the rind of cheese that had been cut off and thrown away.
“They must have traveled in the night,” I said to Charles. “They’ve passed us and gone on ahead.”
“There’ll be more of them behind us,” he answered. “We must——”
The words stuck in his throat. He looked far off over my shoulder at something in the distance. Like a flash he dropped to his hands and knees. I was about to turn when an arrow whizzed through the air and sped over his shoulder and fastened itself in the trunk of the nearest tree. I thought that caution was the best plan to follow so I ducked likewise. It was a lucky pass, for I had no sooner bent my head when another arrow whistled past me and shot out into the distance beyond me.
We exchanged no words. There was little need for them. With our heads as close to the ground as was possible, we made for it into a deeper section of the woods. In a few seconds a third arrow hummed towards us, but struck the smooth surface of a rock well to one side.
We were out of shot at last, but the terror we were in gave speed to our heels. After about a quarter of an hour we drew up, puffing and panting like tired horses.
“To the south,” said Charles between breaths. “We must hold to the south.”
I knew what he meant. We had betrayed ourselves by keeping in a straight line towards the west, for it was the direction where lay the Black Prince.
We went on again, but now more slowly than before. At almost each step, one or the other of us turned to see if we were followed. At the same time our eyes penetrated every bush and behind every tree in search of a lurking foe. After an hour we could go no further. The pace had been too hot for us, so we settled ourselves on a stone to rest and collect our frightened senses.
Hunger like a gnawing pain bore into the pit of my stomach. Since we had left the island on the morning before, we had eaten no food except the few nuts that we came upon. A kind of sickening weakness overtook me. My legs were trembling as though they were made of straw and the soles of my feet ached as though I were standing over a burning fire.
“If they catch us now,” I said, “it’s all over with me. I can go no further.”
Charles clapped me on the shoulder and laughed, but it was a laugh that was meant only to encourage me and had no heart to it.
“We’ll snap our fingers in their faces yet, Henri,” he said. “Look what we’ve passed through already.”
I only shook my head and stared hopelessly towards the ground.
“We have no weapons,” I replied. “Even the dagger that I was to carry to the Abbot of Chalonnes is with my clothes at the bottom of the river.”
There was no more said. We were both worn out. We went forward through the trees. There was no path. Indeed, the ground seemed to have been trodden now for the first time since the beginning of the world. The moss was everywhere on the earth. The little unexpected stones, as sharp as the tips of arrows, cut into our feet. Above all the darkness and sombreness of the forest was about us like a blanket as gloomy as the night.
We came upon an irregular rising in the ground. There was a solid piece of rock as big as an ordinary house, but with no shape to it. All about, it was cut into crevices. The earth itself broke into risings and depressions. Parts of it were like an uneven wall of stone with great blocks of the rock in a rounded line. It seemed as though nature had begun to build a fortress here, but for some reason or other had left off.
We climbed in among the boulders and found ourselves on smooth ground covered with coarse grass and weeds, with great trees over and about us. Through the middle flowed a stream that had its starting place in a spring that bubbled up like a fountain from the earth.
For a moment we stood gaping in amazement.
“If we only had a few bows and arrows here,” said Charles, “we could hold off an army.”
“At any rate,” I answered, “we can hide here and rest. They will think we have gone on through the woods.”
We turned and faced the great rock which, I said, was as big as a house. The front of it was like an overhanging shed. Underneath was what seemed an opening to the mouth of a cavern—dark and smelling of dampness.
Step by step we ventured forward. The ground under our feet grew sticky like wet clay. The light slowly faded. A mustiness like the odor of the cellar of an old inn crept into our nostrils. The opening widened and as we advanced the light was so far gone that we had to feel along the rough wall with our hands.
Suddenly the wall turned and shut us off. I groped on further and further in the hope that the opening was only narrowing and not entirely closed. I was running my fingers from one stone to the other when I felt something flat. There was no dampness to it and it had the evenness of smooth wood. I was about to examine it further when my hand touched a latch.
Like a flash I realized I had come upon a door.
“Charles!” I exclaimed. “We are only at the beginning. There’s another cave beyond!”
My curiosity scattered all caution to the winds. I gave the latch a click and shoved on the door. To my surprise it went back on its hinges as though they were swimming in oil. And I beheld a sight that took my breath away and made me gasp in amazement.
A light shone in my eyes. It was not bright, but the unexpectedness of it made it seem like a flash. As soon as my eyes grew accustomed to it, I saw that it was only a small fire burning in a grate in the far end of the cave. There was no smoke. By some means or other a draught drew it upwards through the irregular crevices in the ceiling. I put one foot in the room and gazed around. It was as large as the common room in an inn, but scrupulously clean and neat. The floor, which was as smooth as you could wish, was covered with new straw that cracked with dryness as my foot touched it. On the walls were pegs driven in between the stones and from them were hung at least a dozen bows while the quivers filled with arrows stood beneath.
Charles grasped me by the arm.
“Let’s get away,” he whispered. “We’ve come upon a thieves’ den.”
“If we could lay our hands, each of us, on a bow and a quiver of arrows,” I said, “we wouldn’t have to run so fast from our enemies.”
“And that’s right,” he agreed. With that he gave me a shove forward.
I went quietly across the floor with Charles at my heels. It was one step at a time with our eyes always turning towards the door. The warmth of the place lured me. If I had had my own way, I would have thrown myself down upon the floor before the fire and have given rest to my weary legs. As it was, Charles was reaching out for a bow and I had my hand already on another when a voice shot through my ears like the blast of a trumpet.
“Gentlemen,” it said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been expecting you!”
We turned. Before us stood a man so small that he might be taken for a dwarf. His head was so large that it was remarkable, and the way it rolled from side to side caused me a certain uneasiness. His eyes were the size of two peas, but they twinkled with a kind of knowing wisdom that continually forced you to look away and in the next moment to return and gaze at him again. A smile covered his mouth, but it was a smile that never changed. You could not tell whether it came from amusement or whether mockery lay behind it. We had hardly caught our breath when he shifted over to us. It was then that I noticed for the first time that his legs were bent in an arch like a bow. They seemed very thin, scarcely able to support the weight of his thick body.
He took off his cap and drew his head in between his shoulders like a turtle.
“I have been on the look-out for you the last three days,” he said. “Where have you been?”
I said not a word but glanced at Charles.
“Who are you?” he gasped, “—friend or enemy?”
“I am the Dwarf of Angers,” was the reply. He hesitated. The smile broadened into a wicked grin. “If I were your enemy,” he went on, “you would have been dead long before this.”
“You say you have been expecting us——,” I began, but he broke in and interrupted me.
“You are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said in the most matter of fact way. “He heard that you were threatened with danger. I came to see you through.”
I drew back in surprise. My first impulse was to tell him that I had never seen the Abbot of Chalonnes in my life. On second thought, I decided to let him believe as he would.
“We are surrounded by at least a score of men,” I said with some caution. “They are French—followers of a man by the name of De Marsac. The three of us can hardly make a stand against them. They are too many.”
A little cackle of laughter broke from him. He went to the corner of the room where a basket stood. He took from it an apple that was as large as your fist. He stretched out his hand and laid the apple between the middle finger and the forefinger. He extended his arm to full length and slowly drew his fingers together. There came a crushing sound. Then with as much force as if it were struck by a hammer the apple flew apart. One half of it shot over against the wall and the other dropped a little distance from his feet.
My mouth opened in amazement. Such a feat of strength I never believed possible.
“There has never lived a man with hands and arms like these,” he said. “Nature gave me a misshapen body. But she made up for it in another way.” He jumped back and turned to the wall. With a leap as quick as lightning he came towards us, turning one somersault after the other. Not once did his hands touch the floor nor, when he came to a halt, did he draw a single breath that gave a sign of fatigue.
“I can draw a bow that would drive an archer to despair,” he explained. “I never weary. I can go on and on till they drop. I am all hands and arms.” He stopped and looked up at us. The same smile covered his face, only now he opened his lips far enough to show us a line of ugly twisted teeth.