“Can you shoot?” he then demanded with a sudden burst.
“A little,” we stammered, “—but not like you, I am sure.”
He cackled again.
“A little is enough,” he said. “Come!” He spun on his heel and went over to where we had first seen the bows suspended on the wall. “Take this,” he said to Charles. “—and you take this. There’ll be a merry time in the woods before the setting of the sun.”
With that he handed each of us a bow and a quiver of finely made arrows. As though he were the leader of an army, he marched proudly to the door. He swung it open and with a bow stood like a soldier at attention till we filed out.
We were once more among the rocks and stones—and the trees of the forest. It was light, but the rays of the sun shone only here and there in long threads where the breeze for a time drove the branches apart.
We went on stealthily. We kept our bodies low so that if a chance shot were fired at us, it might pass over our heads. I got as far as the row of boulders that, I have said, was like an irregular stone wall. I was on the verge of straightening myself to look further into the woods when an arrow sang past me and struck with a click against the cave.
In the next moment a shriek echoed through the woods. Far off in the shadows of the trees I saw, faintly, of course, a man throw his arms into the air and pitch forward on his face. Before I could recover from my astonishment another ran to lift him to his feet. He had hardly stooped when a shaft easily a yard long pierced his side and he, too, fell forward over his companion.
For a second I was set wondering. I looked around to see if the Dwarf was at our backs. He was nowhere to be seen. Then I was certain that he had gone out among the trees. It was he who had shot the men who were lying there on the ground. I heard a branch over my head crack and saw it bend. A form twisted itself around and dropped quickly to the earth. Before I could wink, the Dwarf was standing between us with the grin stretching from ear to ear. His face was glowing with excitement.
“Did you see them fall?” he cried, and took me by the coat. “Could an archer have reached them at that distance?”
“I never thought that an arrow could carry so far,” said Charles.
The Dwarf bent over and clapped himself on the knee.
“—and neither it did!” he exclaimed. “The arrows I shot didn’t travel a hundred feet. I was up there in the trees—almost over their heads. I shot down upon them. These arms did that—these strong arms of mine!”
I understood.
“You mean that you climbed from one tree to the other?” I asked. “You worked your way from branch to——?”
For an answer he reached up and took hold of the branch from which he had just dropped. He lowered his body as far as he could. Then with a spring as light as a monkey’s he shot into the air. He twisted his small legs, curling them with the suppleness of a snake. His body swung forward. He took another hold. He swung forward again. There was no strain nor gasping for breath. With a litheness that I had never judged possible he squirmed and swung himself, till in a short time he had completely disappeared among the trees.
I looked at Charles and shook my head. We stood there forgetful of our enemies in utter amazement at the Dwarf’s agility. Then without a warning an arrow came darting through the air and dug its point deep into the ground at our feet.
We jumped back and dodged behind a rock. We held our bows in readiness for an attack, with our eyes dancing anxiously in every direction.
Then came a sharp, cackling laugh from over our heads. The branches swayed and the Dwarf dropped nimbly to the earth. He swung the bow which he held in his hand with a kind of childish pride and said, “I could have killed you both! The one arrow would have done it, for you were standing in a straight line!” He puffed himself out and strutted back and forth. “Nature has given me a crooked body,” he went on, “but I’m worth a dozen perfect men.”
It began to dawn on me that the Dwarf was a bit of a fool. He was deformed, of course, but his imagination had played on him so that he pictured himself as the ugliest man on earth. I saw, too, that he was sensitive to a degree. It was this that caused him to boast about the strength of his arms and hands. His continual dwelling on his marksmanship with the bow was a balance to his shortcomings.
My thoughts were interrupted by a cry from Charles. He grasped me by the shoulder and drew me down behind the wall of stone.
“Look!” he cried. “There are a dozen of them moving through the woods!”
Sure enough. I raised my head a little above the wall. I saw the forms of several men passing from tree to tree. They darted as though they feared to trust themselves in the open.
“I have roused them!” cried the Dwarf. “I have stung them to the quick. They are forming for an attack. They will come forward with a rush.”
He was right. No sooner had he spoken when a dozen arrows sped towards us. Their white feathers were like streaks in the air. We hid behind the wall as near to the earth as we could crouch. Two or three hard clicks against the rock in front of us showed that they had gotten the range. The flight of half a dozen others over our heads was warning enough that they were determined to drive us from our fortress at the cost of their lives.
Charles and I raised our bows and peeped out through a crevice in the rock. Our heads were scarcely above the top line of the wall when three arrows in quick succession whizzed past. One of them came so near that the point of it clipped a tiny piece from the stone and sent it flying into my face.
“Now!” cried the Dwarf. “Hold ready!”
I heard a shout. A score of our enemies rushed out from behind the trees. They raised their bows. The arrows came as thick as hail. Another shout and the men strung their bows and shot again. It was now or never. The three of us raised ourselves each on one knee. I cannot speak for the others. As for myself I singled out a fellow who was darting forward from one tree to seek the cover of the next. My arrow caught him in the shoulder between the arm and the neck. His bow dropped from his grasp. As well as I could see, an expression of intense pain crossed his features. He clapped his hand to the wound and reeled back to the tree from which he had just come.
Charles must have hit his man, and even with more accuracy than I hit mine. I saw a fellow spin around like a top and fall staggering to the earth a little to the left. In the turning of my head I caught the flash of hatred on the Dwarf’s face. The bow he carried was of unusual size and the string of great strength. The missile went so fast I could not even see its passage in the air. But the twang had hardly reached my ear when the arrow pierced the neck of an enemy as he was running past a tree. It stopped him in full career. It pierced him through and through, and fastened him to the trunk as firmly as if he were tied with a taut rope.
In the next breath we were down again. A flight of arrows clattered against the stone face of our fortress or passed close over our heads. The enemy must have been filled with bitterness that so many of them had fallen while they had not been able to touch one of us. They paused for a space to form again. This time they came on, not scattered as before, but rather in groups. The first of them shot their arrows and dropped to the ground. Those behind sent their missiles at us just at the moment when they expected we would raise our heads above the wall.
They were coming in. There was no doubt of that. And so close on the heels of each other did their arrows fly that we were unable to look out long enough to take a good aim, for on the second try I shot wide of the mark and in ducking back an arrow almost ended my life, for it grazed the top of my head and cut into my scalp far enough to draw a few drops of blood.
I began to fear for our safety. I knew the kind of enemy we had before us. If they could lay hands upon us they would tear us limb from limb. If we were to get out of our difficulty, it would be only by the death of them all. But how it was to come about was more than I could guess, for their numbers far surpassed ours. Even if we were to make off, there were more and more of them about us in the woods.
I took the risk once more and raised my head above the wall. At the same time I took a shot at a fellow who was half hidden by a tree. It was as good as a miss, for the arrow only grazed his arm and tore a piece of the cloth of the sleeve of his coat. But he let out a roar that echoed to my ears. As though I had destroyed something of the greatest value, he threw all caution to the side. He strung his bow and shot an arrow at me with such force that it struck the rock and shivered into a thousand pieces. Then with the same running motion he came on. He zig-zagged from one tree to the other. He fumbled with his bow, but in his madness could not steady himself long enough to string it. When he was within fifty feet of our wall, he cast it to the ground in anger. He fumbled for a moment at his belt. He drew out a dagger and raised it on high as though he would sweep us all to death with the very fury of his attack.
Both Charles and I (the Dwarf was far to one side) saw him advancing. At the same time we raised ourselves to shoot him down before he reached the wall. But we had no sooner showed the tops of our heads when a rain of arrows forced us to drop back again. In the next second the fellow was bellowing like a wild bull. With one leap he had a footing on the wall. Another, he had sprung over it and bounded into our midst.
It was a situation that we had not foreseen. In a certain sense he was as safe as he would have been if he had remained among the trees. We knew that if we rose to grapple with him we were as good as dead, for the men without were on their guard. They were protecting him with their eyes alert and their bows strung to kill the first of us who would be so forgetful as to raise his head or shoulders in a line with their arrows.
The fellow flew at me like a fury. He caught me by the arm and spun me around. I slid away from him and rolled over two or three times on the ground. Charles lowered his body and made a flying leap. He struck him in the middle of the back and sent him sprawling on his face.
I got to my hands and knees, poising myself on the balls of my feet ready to move in case he came at me again. He rose. His countenance was black with anger. The hand that held the dagger quivered with the wrath that was boiling in him. He stood straight up and glared at me as though his very looks would kill.
The Dwarf was edging over towards us, shuffling with his body low to the earth. His face was covered with the same smile that I had noticed when I first saw him. The fellow had one foot ahead of the other ready to move. The Dwarf made one leap—a long, low horizontal leap. He fastened the fingers of his powerful hands in the calves of my attacker’s legs. He sunk his nails into the flesh with a grip like the claws of a wild animal that is desperate. I heard him snarl and gnash his teeth. The fellow tried to kick him away. He might as well have struggled against the grip of an iron trap. The Dwarf gathered his strength into his shoulders. He took in a deep breath. With a twist he jerked his victim’s legs to the one side. The fellow came down with the swiftness with which you would snap a whip. His head struck a stone and that so loudly that I heard the crack of it. He gave a groan. His arms fell limp to his sides and he rolled over with his eyes glazed on his back.
I breathed a sigh of relief. That I had been near death I fully realized. But I had no time to reflect, for an arrow came darting over our heads and sang its way beyond us into the forest. I sprang to the wall, for I surely thought that the enemy suspected that their companion was captured or injured and would make an attempt to save him.
But here the Dwarf surprised us again. With the litheness of a cat he picked the fallen man in his arms. He stood straight up holding him face towards the foe. He advanced step by step until he came to the edge of our defenses. Then he raised the man like a bundle in his arms. By this the lower part of his body was exposed. I trembled for a moment for I was certain that it was a vulnerable spot for an arrow.
His Countenance Was Black With AngerHis Countenance Was Black With Anger
His Countenance Was Black With Anger
My guess was right. An arrow came speeding at him. Its aim was as true as ever an aim was. The Dwarf’s eye was keen. In a twinkling he lowered the man so that his legs dragged on the ground. The arrow found its mark. It struck the fellow clean in the chest. So great was the force of it that the Dwarf staggered back a step to keep his footing. Then he let out a screech—a horrible sound that came from his throat and echoed in and out among the trees. With a heave as powerful as three strong men he raised the body of the dead man over his head and cast it far out over the wall. It turned and rolled. The arrow twisted under its side and it came to a stop at the foot of a tree.
“Come and get him!” the Dwarf cried. “You’re a fine lot who kill your own men!”
We were answered. As many arrows as a bird had feathers came shooting towards us. On the heels of them the men in the woods ran from their shelter, stringing fresh arrows as they came. The Dwarf began to bounce about like a toad. His hands moved twice as fast as ours. Before I had my bow to my shoulder he had brought a man down. The more excited he grew, the deeper his voice resounded in his throat and the more unearthly his screeches became. There was a savage instinct in him that led me to think he was hardly human.
The first of our assailants got as far as the wall. The Dwarf struck him over the heart and sent him tumbling back. A second followed. Charles made short work of him. Then there came three of them together. They had a daring recklessness in their eyes that told us they had made their calculations and would risk all to rout us from our wall. In their bravado they called to their companions in the rear to have no fear, that this assault would be the last, that they were going to make an end of us.
The Dwarf called to us to hold steady. He sent the foremost of them kicking to the ground. I took the second, while Charles, whose aim was true, dropped the third not a dozen feet from where we crouched. But that was not the end. The others had been roused to a feeling of desperation by our stubbornness. They kept on running. They shot their arrows one after the other so that it was a risk for any of us to show his head above the line of rocks.
The Dwarf gave another screech. Without a word to us he swung himself into the branches of the nearest tree and disappeared from sight. We were left alone, Charles and I, to make what we could of the attack. The first two were easy enough. The third limped away, wounded in the leg. The fourth (it was I who tried the shot) was only grazed along the wrist.
Then we were in for it. Three of our enemies got as far as the wall. The two foremost jumped over and made for us. The third fell as limp as a rag where he had been shot by the Dwarf in the back. I thought we were done for. To avoid a struggle hand to hand I ran with my body lowered to the far corner of our defenses. Charles moved more slowly in the opposite direction. Our separation had this advantage, the men could not pounce upon us two at a time and so singly overcome us.
My fellow had cast his bow away. With his fingers outstretched like the talons of a bird he ran at me and grasped me by the arm. I tore myself loose and sprang still farther away. I saw an advantage and with bent body made a running dive at his legs with about the same motion with which you would dive into deep water. My shoulders struck him on the shins. I fell to the earth, of course, but he fell with me. And in the fall he struck his elbow a sharp crack on the edge of a stone that made him wince with pain.
My mind was running in a hurry. I had no time to think of anything but a safe way out of my predicament. But yet, withal, it occurred to me that there were no more men vaulting over our defenses. I was sure that the Dwarf was guarding us with his arrows in the trees.
I grew strong with a kind of hope. My fellow was gathering himself for a fresh lunge. We were both on our feet. I waited until he came forward. His lips drew back in a snarl. Then of a sudden he caught me by the sleeve of my coat and dragged me towards him. I swung around on the one side as far as I could. Then I gathered my hand into a fist. With a swing that, I am sure, he did not expect I wheeled about and caught him a stunning blow on the jaw.
He was hurt and not a little dazed. With a jerk I tore his grasp from my coat. Then his face filled with fury. The blood shot into his eyes and he gave me a look that had murder in it.
He saw that I was not to be caught, for I was quicker and more lithe than he. As though he was groping for a missile he looked searchingly around on the ground. He picked up a stone that was as large as my head and smiled at me as though to tell me that I was facing my doom.
I stepped back, so that by chance I might dodge the stone if he happened to have a good aim. He raised his arm. He placed one foot before the other and measured me with his eye. But the stone, to my amazement, never was thrown. The man stiffened up with a jerk. His face twisted in intense pain. With a look on his face that I shall not soon forget, he tottered forward and fell at my feet. In another second he was dead with one of the Dwarf’s arrows sticking in his back, swaying and moving like a warning sign.
I was shaking. My nerves were jumping like the cords of a whip. I gave a glance at Charles and saw him struggling with his man on the ground. The two were wrestling, with the one grasping the other’s wrist. As they rolled over a dagger shot into the air and fell at Charles’ side. He reached out and took it by the hasp. Then he bounded quickly to his feet. His face was hot and covered with dirt where he had been rolling in the earth. He made a jump towards his enemy with the dagger raised above his head.
But fright won the victory. The fellow no sooner saw that Charles had the upper hand when he leaped far to the one side. He never stopped but kept on ahead. With a spring he bounded over our wall, and as fast as ever a man ran he made for the shelter of the trees.
That much was over, thanks to the Dwarf. The two of us lowered our bodies again lest an arrow take us unawares. I risked a peep out through one of the crevices. I had every thought that another band of assailants would be on us to take vengeance for the damage we had done their companions. To my surprise the woods were as still for a time as a peaceful countryside. Then, after a little, far off, I heard the screech of the Dwarf coming to us like an echo through the trees. When it died away a silence fell over us once more. I was beginning to count the victory ours, for I was sure that the Dwarf with his arrows, his terrible arms and hands had done their work. Single-handed he had driven our enemies from the neighborhood.
The sun was casting slanting rays out of the west. A new thought rose in my mind. The night would be dark, for there was no space for the shining of the stars through the matted branches of the trees. We would stand guard, of course, ready to ward off an attack. But in case our enemies returned it would be difficult to see them as clearly as we had done during the afternoon. They could storm our little stronghold. By sheer numbers they could overwhelm us. Before we could raise a bow in our defense they could slaughter us where we cowered behind our stone-wall.
This thought grew stronger in my mind as the darkness came on. I spoke to Charles, who only nodded his head.
“If they come,” he said, after turning the matter over, “we must leave. The woods will be safer than it is here.”
To this we agreed. We kept our eyes on the alert, searching in every direction for a foe. The sun had dropped behind the horizon and the shadows of night were stretching themselves like black sheets on every side of us. The woods were silent and mysterious. Not a sound came to our ears except the twittering of a bird or two as he settled in his nest. The shrieking of the Dwarf had long since stopped.
“We must wait till he returns,” said Charles. “We cannot go without a word from him. He will——”
We both jumped to our feet. There was a rustling of the branches over our heads. The Dwarf dropped lightly to the ground and stood facing us in the gathering gloom. His mouth was spread open in a wide grin that showed his big pointed teeth.
“There’s no fear, now,” he said. “I’ve scattered them. Come into my cave. We must eat.”
He led the way. The fire had gone out. He relit it with a piece of tinder and dry wood. When the blaze had started up he drew from out the folds of his shirt a dagger and cast it at my feet. It was the dagger which I had from the scrivener, the one which I was to take to the Abbot of Chalonnes—which I thought I had lost forever in the Loire.
“I found that in the shirt of one of the men I shot down,” he explained. “Take it with you. Guard it better than you have already done. In another hour it will be safe for you to leave. You can keep to the road that leads towards the south. If there is any trouble, show it to the keeper of the inn that stands at the cross-roads. He is a friend of mine.”
It was close on to midnight when we left the Dwarf and his cave. We headed for the south, at first over rocks and stones and through the depths of the woods; then we came upon a white ribbon of a road, which we followed till the dawn overtook us.
We reached the inn at the cross-roads in less than an hour—an old stone house covered with moss and windows grilled and barred. There was no one about, so with a bit of a stick which I had found, I knocked on the panels of the heavy oaken door. We stood and waited. There came to our ears not a sound, not even the barking of a dog or the rattle of pots and pans.
I knocked again, this time more violently than before. The echo died away across the empty fields. Then I heard a window creak over our heads and a nightcap with a tassle to it appeared.
“What do you want?” said a voice.
“Is this an inn?” I returned. “Is this the inn of the Cross-roads?”
The voice squeaked.
“Cross-roads?” it said as though it did not quite understand. “Who are you that come knocking at my door?”
“We’re honest travelers,” called Charles. “We want a bite to eat and then we’ll be on our way.”
At this my rashness showed itself.
“We’re friends of the Abbot of Chalonnes!” I added.
I thought thus to bring the matter to a head. If there was any suspicion in the man, the mention of the Abbot’s name ought to be enough to soften his fears.
For a moment there was no answer. Then his voice began again, this time in a low coaxing tone.
“—the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he repeated slowly as though he was turning the name over in his mind. “These are dangerous times, my son. Have you, by any chance, a proof that you are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes?”
I drew the dagger from my shirt and held it high in my hand.
“Here!” I called. “Can you see this?”
The voice creaked like a rusty hinge. “And what is that?” it asked.
“It’s a token,” I replied with some show of anger, for the caution of the man prodded me like a knife. “We were sent here. We were told that you would recognize this. It belongs to the Abbot of Chalonnes.”
The man coughed to clear his throat. His voice changed to a hasty wheeze. A cracked smile curled around his mouth.
“I was only toying with you, my lad,” he said. “Of course I recognize it. Of course it belongs to the Abbot of Chalonnes. Bide a bit. Bide there and I’ll open the door to you and let you in.”
With that he shuffled off from the window wheezing and muttering to himself.
We were puzzled at this odd reception. I looked at Charles with doubt written clearly on my face.
“The Dwarf has made some mistake,” he began. But the rattle of bolts and chains interrupted him and the head with the nightcap poked itself sooner than we had expected through the chink in the door.
We stepped over the threshold. There was hardly a ray of the sun’s light in the room. Besides, the odor that struck our nostrils made us draw back. We saw now, indistinctly of course, the man who had spoken to us from the window. He was clad in a long loose nightgown of a dirty flannel and had a bend to his shoulders like the curve in a pot. His jaw seemed to have no firmness for it hung loose in his head and twisted from side to side with the motion of a cow chewing its cud. His eyes were small and as sharp as a fox’s like two cunning little beads. And when he pulled off his cap with the tassel to it, to make us a kind of salutation, a great shock of unkempt greasy hair fell down over his neck.
“I am glad to welcome you to my house, sirs,” he said with his voice reaching a high piping note.
I looked to Charles to hear what he would say, for to tell the truth I was now even more anxious to get away from this hole than I was before bent on getting in.
“Do you know the Dwarf of Angers?” he demanded.
The old man started to rub his hands in one another and stuck out his chin. A slow encouraging grin spread over his face.
“Of course I do,” he said and repeated it. “Why of course I do. Are you a friend of his, too?” he ended with a snap.
“He sent us here,” continued Charles. “We have enemies. He told us you would give us help.”
At this the man leaned forward and peered closely into our faces. Then he began to laugh in the same cackling tone that I had heard from the window. He stepped to one side and bowed almost to the floor and made a motion with a sweep of his hand.
“If you will sit down,” he said, “I will bring you something to eat.”
He made off in a shuffling gait dragging his feet along the bare boards of the floor. In a few minutes he returned with a wooden bowl of gruel steaming hot and two large wooden spoons.
By this time we were able to look around and make an estimate of the place. The room was like a stable for filth. The one long table that stood in the middle was cut and scarred with figures where men had dug into it with their knives. Cobwebs hung in every nook and corner. An old lamp was fastened to a slab of wood on the wall, but even if it had been lit, I think there would have shone little light through it, for it was as black as the sooty rafters over our heads.
To all this there was an air of confusion everywhere. A chair with the legs broken off lay in a corner. A great hole was worn in the bottom panels of the door that led to the kitchen where a dog had by slow degrees pawed his way through. Alongside of it, on the wall, the plaster had a large dent in it where something had struck and just beside it a red smear that reminded me of the color of human blood.
You may be sure that we ate little. Even if the food had been savory the sight of the old fox of a landlord was enough to take our appetites away, for he hung over us like a sinister shadow with his nightcap in his hands and his beady eyes watching every morsel as it passed down our throats.
“The Dwarf of Angers,” he reminded us, when we laid our spoons aside, “—he’s a grand man, isn’t he?”
Then came that short cackling laugh that stabbed me like a knife.
“He saved us from death,” I remarked.
The old fellow gave a start as though he was suddenly clapped on the shoulder.
“He did, did he?” he said. And then after a while, “And he sent you to me?” He cackled again as though he had reason to be highly flattered. “And by any chance did he give you a message?”
Here I drew the dagger from my shirt and laid it on the table.
“This!” said I. And, with the word, looked him square in the eye in hopeful anticipation.
He pounced upon the weapon like a greedy child. He took it between his skinny fingers and turned it over and over. A crafty smile sharpened his features so that his face resembled a rat’s. With his thumb he examined the silver of the haft. He snapped the blade till it sang.
“That dagger,” I said as though he needed some urging to entirely understand, “belongs to the Abbot of Chalonnes.”
But his eyes were fastened like glue upon it, so that all the answer I got was a sort of mumbling.
“Ay, ay,” he said, “—the Abbot of Chalonnes.” Then he looked up suddenly. His jaws stopped shaking and his smile faded. “Where do you come from?” he demanded with a jerk.
I was getting weary of his dallying. I was sure that he knew more than he pretended. There was something at the back of his head that prompted him to doubt us, so with no more ado I burst forth, “Look here,” I began. “We are on our way to find the Black Prince. We have traveled a long distance and have been beset by enemies. We have been nearly killed half a dozen times. We’re in a strange country and need a word of advice. Maybe we ought to have a guide. Can’t you see that your friends are our friends?” I pointed to the dagger in his hands. “Isn’t that proof enough for you?”
At the mention of the dagger his hands clasped together with a quick convulsive motion and his jaws took to wagging again.
“Ay, ay,” he muttered, “it’s worth a hundred crowns, if it’s worth a groat.... It was fine of the Dwarf of Angers to send it to me.”
I jumped from my seat. As though he were suddenly attacked, the old man straightened up. A flash came to his eye and a sternness came upon him that was unexpected. I think if I had taken another step he would have showed fight.
“But the dagger is not for you,” I cried. “It’s only a sign that we are no frauds, no imposters.”
I reached out to take the weapon from his hand. He swung around with the quickness of an eel and backed away from me. I made another try. This time he shot a look at me and raised the dagger as though he would strike.
My blood was up. All in all I felt that he was not what the Dwarf had represented him to be, so with the single thought of getting my dagger back at any cost, I made a lunge to grasp him by the arm. Then by sheer strength I could wrest it from his grasp.
“Back!” His voice was shrill but strong with the cackle entirely gone. “Back! I’ll kill you if you make a move!”
He drew his arm far over his head. There was wickedness in his eyes that told me he meant all that he said. For a second I stood there irresolute. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Charles flit past me. His arm shot out. It caught the old fellow by the wrist. With one jerk his fingers opened. The dagger dropped clattering to the floor. One bound, I had it in my hand and in the next second it was tucked away in my shirt.
Then came a surprise. As though the affair was a joke the old man leaned over and clapped himself time and time again on the knee. His voice rose and fell in a kind of whistling laugh. He coughed and sputtered from sheer mirth and to cap it all reached out his hand for me to shake.
“A fine lad!” he exclaimed. “The both of you are fine lads. I know now there’s no deceit in either of you.” He laughed again. The cackling grew stronger than ever. “What is it you say you want? A guide to take you on your way? Ay, ay. A guide. But no harm meant, mind you. No harm—” He shuffled, bent over, towards the door, where he stood for a minute looking back at us. Then with a quick nervous snap he jerked out, “I’ll aid you all I can. Will you stay here till I come back?”
With a kind of a stumbling skip he was outside and had closed the door behind him.
We sat and waited till the shuffling of his feet died away on the road. Then we arose and walked about the room, more from restlessness, I am sure, than from curiosity.
If it had not been for the advice of the Dwarf, I should have said that we were fallen into the thieves’ den. The place was in no sense an inn for there was no sign of provision for the comfort or entertainment of a guest. Besides it was too far removed from the course of travel to be of any profit.
“I don’t like the looks of it,” remarked Charles. “There have been knives flying here—and throats cut. That smear on the wall is hardly dry.”
“We ought to get out,” I said. “We were safer in the Dwarf’s cave.”
“Let us wait till the old rat returns,” he answered. “There will be time then.”
The heaviness of the place made me feel that I was standing in the face of danger. Everything I touched seemed to warn me that we were falling deeper and deeper into a trap. The broken chair, the hole in the plaster, the blood upon the wall, the very darkness of the room, but above all the slow-witted craftiness of the old man, sent the creeps along my spine and made me anxious.
A half hour passed. We had paced the length of the room a dozen times. We had sat down and risen again more than once. Charles went to the door.
“I’ll take a look up the road,” he said. “If he’s not in sight, we’ll go.”
I turned to follow him. He snapped the latch. He rattled it. He shook it with all his might. He faced me with his face gone white.
“We’re locked in!” he exclaimed. “The old rat has made us prisoners.”
I ran back to the door that led to the kitchen.
“We’re caught!” I called. “The windows are too small for us to crawl out. The old fellow has gone to summon our enemies.”
“The truth of it,” said Charles, “is that we have come to the wrong place. The inn of the Cross-Roads must be further down the highway.”
“Well?” I said. “What’s to be done?”
He motioned me to the long oaken bench that lay at the table.
“We’ll hammer down the door,” he replied. “Do you take that end. I’ll take this——”
It was as much as we could do to lift it. We held it lengthwise towards the door. Then with a run we crashed the end into the lower panels. The echo was like thunder in the room. The door trembled on its hinges and the lock creaked.
Again we drew back. Again we came forward. The door bent in the middle and a long crack let the light in from the outside.
“Once more,” cried Charles, “and we’ll be free.”
We took a short rest and caught our breath. The third time the end of the bench crashed against the cross-piece in the middle. There was a noise of splintering wood. I thought the house was tumbling about our ears. The door was torn from its hinges and with a clap fell towards the outside flat on the road.
I blinked against the bright light of the sun. Then I recoiled, for not ten feet away there came running the landlord, panting for dear life, with his mouth open and his beady eyes glittering with the fire of anger. At his side were two men, rough fellows, who looked as though they might slit your throat for a copper groat. To my dismay one of them was the man from whom I had escaped while we were swimming in the river.
“There they are!” cried the landlord pointing at us with his skinny finger. “They’re tearing my house down. Stop them!” His jaw wriggled from side to side and his hands shook with excitement. His voice which began in a high shrill cackle turned to a shaking laugh. “That one there” (he meant me) “wants to know how he can go to the Black Prince. Ha! Ha! Ha!”
In the next breath they were upon us.
I shall not forget that morning as long as I have life in my body. At the first sight of the three men I drew my dagger. Charles had nothing but his bare hands. But the fellows were scarcely across the threshold and were reaching out for us, when he caught the foremost of them a stinging blow on the point of the jaw. In the first moment we had an advantage, for their eyes were not yet grown accustomed to the dimness of the room. The man reeled, then gathered himself together. He had a knife in his hand. As he raised it Charles seized him by the wrist and the two stumbled and staggered over the pieces of the broken door like two men wrestling for an opportunity to drive home a telling blow.
My hands were then full, for I had the bigger and stronger man to face—Pierre who had been my captor during the days when we wandered along the highway with the army of the King. A flash of sullen hate came into his eyes as soon as he saw me. To make it all the worse the sight of his clothes upon me (which he recognized at once) stirred him as deeply as if I had flaunted him with open mockery.
He forgot the dagger which he had drawn from his shirt. With one hand he reached out to grasp me by the throat. I jumped to one side. He came lunging forward, swaying with his big shoulders like a log upon a stormy sea.
I knew him from my former experience. He was powerful. There was a savage twist to his mind that was hard to equal. But even at that I was more than a match for him in agility and speed. My one thought, then, was to keep out of his reach and to battle him till he was out of wind. I could last longer than he. If nothing else came between, I could wear him down and finally get the upper hand.
The faster he came at me, just so much the faster did I dodge. While Charles and his man were struggling at the door we had made our way almost to the middle of the room. I had a double care. I had to keep one eye on him. I had to watch my step in falling back lest I stumble over an object on the floor.
At length I had my back to the table, and was sliding slowly along the edge. Pierre made a grab once more at my coat. I sprang away. He missed. So hard did he come at me that he bumped his legs against the edge and in trying to steady himself knocked his elbows on the hard wood.
I saw him wince, and laughed. It was a laugh that cut him to the bone. He uttered a few words under his breath and gritted his teeth. He worked his hands, closing and opening them, as though he already felt my throat in his grip. He lowered at me with his brows drawn down and started at me, slowly measuring me with his eyes.
I backed off little by little, keeping step with him. I rounded the end of the table. I danced and sprang lightly now to one side now to the other. He never wavered nor took his eyes off me. He laid his hands flat on the table and worked his way after me around the edge. His steps were like a cat’s, stealthy and slow, but I knew he was getting ready for a leap.
Then it came. He had worked himself into a crouch. Like a snake uncoiling he straightened out. His body shot into the air. At the moment a shrill cackling back of me broke upon my ears and by instinct I half turned in the thought that the old landlord was threatening me from the rear.
I saw over my shoulder that he had the broken chair in his hand, ready to bring it down upon my head.
“Don’t kill him!” It was the deep growl of Pierre. “He is to be taken alive!”
The chair fell from the old man’s grasp to the floor. At the same time I jumped to the rear with the intention of avoiding Pierre’s outstretched claws. The chair was in my path. With a swoop I picked it up and with a swing I sent it crashing into my assailant’s face.
In the next instant the air was filled with a roar like the bellowing of a hundred bulls. Pierre clapped his hand over his wounded nose and forehead. Through his fingers I saw that I had drawn the blood. He was blinded for the moment. Then he shook with mounting rage. He shot one glance at me. I am sure that all the trouble which I had caused him during the past few days flashed through his brain at once.
He shifted his knife from the one hand to the other. He poised it for a second in the palm. Then with a dexterity that surprised me he sent it flying point outward towards my chest. It came like a small arrow and with the speed of a drop of rain. It was fortunate that I was bobbing from side to side for I should never have had the quickness to dodge out of harm’s way. As it was, it passed over my shoulder but the point of it nicked a little wound in my flesh that sent a tiny stream of warmth trickling down my arm.
We were now on more even terms. I had my dagger still, but he was without a weapon save the great strength of his huge body. But at that I think he would have risked his life against a dozen men for his fury had gathered like a brewing storm. He crooked his elbow over his face and came at me on the run. He groped with his outstretched hand hoping to gather me in, like a man feeling his way in the dark.
I yielded before him. I backed off once more around the table and had come so far that he was on one side and I on the other. He planted his big hands flat on the surface. The sweat was running off the end of his nose mingling with the blood and his breath came in pants from the strain of his exertions.
“Catch me if you can,” I called, laughing. At the same time I danced back on the balls of my feet to draw him on.