Part 3 (1/2)

Eve held her cloak pressed against her mouth to filter the smoke, which grew thick.

”It is time to move,” said Hugh, coughing as he spoke. ”By Heaven's grace, we are too late! Look!”

As he spoke, suddenly in the broad belt of reeds which lay between them and the river bank fire appeared in several places, caused doubtless by the flaming flakes which the strong wind had carried from behind the mound. Moreover, these new fires, burning up briskly and joining themselves together, began to advance toward the three in the hole.

”The wind has turned,” said d.i.c.k. ”Now it is fire, or water if you can get there. How do you choose to die?” and as he spoke he unstrung his bow and slipped it into its leathern case.

”Neither one way nor the other,” answered Eve. ”Some may die to-night, but we shall not.”

Hugh leapt up and took command.

”Cover your faces to the eyes, and run for it,” he said. ”I'll go first, then you, Eve, and d.i.c.k behind. Make for the point and leap--the water is deep there.”

They sprang to their feet and forward into the reeds. When they were almost at the edge of the fire a shout told them that they had been seen. Eve, the swift of foot, outpaced Hugh, and was the first to leap into that circle of tall flames. She was through it! They were all through it, scorched but unharmed. Thirty paces away was the little point of land where nothing grew, for the spring tides washed it, that jutted out into the waters of the Blythe, and, perhaps a hundred to their right, the Claverings poured down on them, foot and horse together.

Hugh caught his foot in a willow root and fell. Eve and Grey d.i.c.k sped onward unknowing. They reached the point above the water, turned, and saw. d.i.c.k slipped his bow from its case, strung it, and set an arrow on the string. Hugh had gained his feet, but a man who had come up sprang, and cast his arms about him. Hugh threw him to the ground, for he was very strong, and shook himself free. Then he drew the short and heavy sword that he wore, and, shouting out, ”Make way!” to those who stood between him and the little promontory, started to run again.

These opened to the right and left to let him pa.s.s, for they feared the look in his eyes and the steel in his hand. Only young John Clavering, who had leapt from his horse, would not budge. As Hugh tried to push past him, he struck him in the face, calling out:

”We have caught the de Cressi thief! Take him and hang him!”

At the insult of the blow and words, Hugh stopped dead and turned quite white, whereupon the men, thinking that he was afraid, closed in upon him. Then in the silence the harsh, croaking voice of Grey d.i.c.k was heard saying:

”Sir John of Clavering, bid your people let my master go, or I will send an arrow through your heart!” and he lifted the long bow and drew it.

Sir John muttered something, thinking that this was a poor way to die, and again the men fell back, except one French knight, who, perhaps, did not catch or understand his words.

This man stretched out his hand to seize Hugh, but before ever it fell upon his shoulder the bow tw.a.n.ged and Acour's retainer was seen whirling round and round, cursing with pain. In the palm of his hand was an arrow that had sunk through it to the feathers.

”You are right; that knave shoots well,” said the Count to Sir John, who made no answer.

Now again all fell back, so that Hugh might have run for it if he would.

But his blood was up, and he did not stir.

”John Clavering,” he said, addressing the young man, ”just now, when I lay hid in yonder hole, I heard you say that if you had five minutes with me alone you'd beat me to a pulp and hang what was left of me on the nearest tree. Well, here I stand, and there's a tree. Having first tried to burn me and your sister, you have struck me in the face. Will you make good your words, or shall I strike _you_ in the face and go my way? Nay, keep your dogs off me! Grey d.i.c.k yonder has more arrows.”

Now a tumult rose, some saying one thing and some another, but all keeping an eye upon Grey d.i.c.k and his bent bow. At last Sir Edmund Acour rode forward, and in his polished, stately way said to John:

”Young sir, this merchant is in the right, and whatever his trade may be, his blood is as good as your own. After your brave words, either you should fight him or take back the blow you gave.”

Then he leaned down and whispered into John's ear:

”Your sword is longer than his. Make an end of him and of all his trouble, lest men should laugh at you as an empty boaster.”

Now John, who was brave and needed but little urging, turned to his father and said:

”Have I your leave to whip this fellow, sir?”

”You should have asked that before you struck him in the face,” replied the knight. ”You are a man grown. Do as best pleases you. Only if you take the blow, begone from Blythburgh.”

Then Eve, who all this time had been listening, called out from where she stood above the river.