Home > Authors Index > George Manville Fenn > King's Esquires: The Jewel of France > This page
The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
||
Chapter 34. A Dash For Liberty |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. A DASH FOR LIBERTY "Oh!" groaned Denis to himself, as he stood in the darkness watching the shape of the saddle-room door, marked-out as it was in lines of light from the lanterns within, listening to the low muttering of voices, and shuddering once as his wounded adversary uttered a low deep groan, which was followed directly after by an angry ejaculation as if he were enraged by the clumsy surgery of the men. "Is all this going to be in vain?" muttered the boy. "It is as if the whole business is accursed and is bound to fail." He stood listening, and the talking went on, to be interrupted by another fierce ejaculation from the captain, who gave some order; but what it was Denis could not grasp, and he literally groaned again. "They do not come! They do not come!" he said. "It is all useless. They must have failed." He had hardly spoken the words when he fancied he heard steps; but all was still, and then he started violently and clapped his hand to his sword, for some one tried to open the saddle-room door, then shook it, and the words of whoever it was came plainly to the lad's cars: "I can't, Sir Robert. He has shut us in." "What!" came hoarsely; and at the same moment Denis's heart leaped, for there was no mistake this time. Footsteps were rapidly approaching, whether friends' or foes' it was impossible to tell, and taking a step outside the door with his bridle over his arm, his horse followed him, setting in motion the other three, which, well-trained as they were, ranged up alongside upon the cobble stones before the double doors. There was no doubt now, for three figures, plainly seen by the light which shone out of the saddle-room window, came breathlessly up, and the first to speak cried in familiar tones: "My horse! Is it ready? Quick!" "Yes, Sire," whispered Denis, and Francis uttered a quick low "Hah!" as he gathered up the reins and prepared to mount, his two companions following his example, just as the lit-up window was dashed out by some heavy blow, the glass coming tinkling down upon the stones outside, and a hoarse voice that Denis knew only too well roared out: "Guard, here! Guard! Help! In the King's name! Guard!" As the last words came hoarsely forth on to the night air, _clang, clang, clang_, burst out the tocsin of the alarm bell, silencing the music in the ballroom and sending an electric thrill through every listener within the precincts of the castle; but ere the great bell had sent forth a score of vibrating notes which came quivering through the darkness and echoing from every wall, the clattering of hoofs began in obedience to the whispered commands of his Majesty of France: "Draw, draw, and all together to the gates. Then lead, Leoni, and ride hard--straight away, man, for the south." The horses had not made a dozen strides before their sharp hoof clatterings upon the paved court gave place to the dull _thud, thud_, returned from gravel, while before a hundred yards had been passed over, a couple of lanterns began to dance here and there right before them, their dull yellow rays being reflected from the broad blades of halberds borne by men who were evidently forming up in obedience to a shouted order, before making for the castle. The horsemen needed no command. They knew what they had to do--to charge right through the night watch assembling from the guard-room; and this they did. There were shouts, commands to stop in the King's name, the impact of horse and man, and the clatter and jangle of steel against steel, as the fugitives rode their opponents down, kept together, and dashed on for another hundred yards or so, and then were brought up short by that which had not entered into their calculations, for they simultaneously drew rein as Saint Simon, fully excited now, roared in a voice of thunder; "The gates are shut!" The King uttered a low gasp, and it was Leoni who said sharply: "Only the great gates. The doorway--is it right or left?" "Here," cried Denis; "this way, Sire!" And he made a snatch at the rein of the monarch's horse and drew back his own for him to pass, closely followed by Leoni, who was just in time to rise in his stirrups and make a thrust at a tall halberdier who had suddenly stepped forward to seize the rein of Francis's horse. The man uttered no cry, only dropped his halberd and staggered back as Leoni passed on into the darkness, his horse running side by side with that of the King. Meanwhile--it was almost momentary--Saint Simon, who was the next to pass through the narrow pier-bound way, cried out excitedly to his young friend: "Come on, boy! It will be a ride for life." Denis knew it, as he sat there motionless as a statue upon his horse, with his sword pointed towards the advancing enemy, a full score of them dimly seen in the gloom, who, recovering from the terrible shock they had received, came running with their clumsy partisans levelled for their charge, to take revenge upon and capture the daring unknown party which had made this desperate attack. There were men among them who were suffering from blows and from trampling hoofs, and other injuries they had received; but as they ran they recovered their well-trained formation, and with their leader dashed two and two through the narrow postern gate and along the darkened road for full a couple of hundred yards, before the stern command rang out for them to halt. As the trampling of their feet ceased to beat upon the road they stood in the silence listening to the tramp of hoofs, which grew fainter and fainter, till the last sound died away and the silence was broken by a deep groan uttered by one of the men, who now dropped out and sank upon his knees. "Who's that?" cried the leader sharply. "Staines Dick," was the reply. "Humph!" grunted the sergeant who had led the pursuit. "That's two of us gone down. I saw the sentry had it as we passed out. Is there anyone among you as would like to be sergeant instead of me?" "No," said another voice. "Why?" "Because I am Sergeant of the Guard, my lads, and I shall have to go back and meet the King." There was a peculiar sound from the little body of men, caused by their simultaneously sharply drawing in their breath, and then silence once again, as they listened to make sure that the beating of hoofs had passed beyond their ken. Then once more the sergeant spoke out. "Halberds here," he said sharply, "and make a litter for this poor chap. That's right; lift him gently. Have you got it badly, lad?" "No, sergeant; only my left arm broke. It was the hoof of a horse as he galloped over me and struck me aside." "Hah!" said the sergeant, as he marched beside the improvised litter and went on talking to his injured man. "It's bad, my lad, bad; but it don't mean funeral march, and between ourselves, Staines Dick. I wish I was you." _ |
||