Part 20 (2/2)

He made a bow and, before the retort on my lips could be spoken, left the tavern. My cousin Philip left with him. Tom Swain had fallen asleep in his chair.

Captain Collinson and Mr. Furness, of the Thunderer, offered to serve his Lords.h.i.+p, which made me bethink that I, too, would have need of some one. 'Twas then I remembered Singleton, who had pa.s.sed from my mind.

He was standing close behind me, and nodded simply when I asked him. And Will Fotheringay came forward.

”I will act, Richard, if you allow me,” he said. ”I would have you know I am in no wise hostile to you, my Lord, and I am of the King's party.

But I admire Mr. Carvel, and I may say I am not wholly out of sympathy with that which prompted his act.”

It was a n.o.ble speech, and changed Will in my eyes; and I thanked him with warmth. He of all that company had the courage to oppose his Lords.h.i.+p!

Mr. Claude was called in and, as is the custom in such cases, was told that some of us would play awhile above. He was asked for his private room. The good man had his suspicions, but could not refuse a party of such distinction, and sent a drawer thither with wine and cards.

Presently we followed, leaving the pack of toadies in sad disappointment below.

We gathered about the table and made s.h.i.+ft at loo until the fellow had retired, when the seconds proceeded to clear the room of furniture, and Lord Comyn and I stripped off our coats and waistcoats. I had lost my anger, but felt no fear, only a kind of pity that blood should be shed between two so united in spirit as we. Yes, my dears, I thought of Dorothy. If I died, she would hear that it was like a man--like a Carvel. But the thought of my old grandfather tightened my heart. Then the clock on the inn stairs struck two, and the noise of harsh laughter floated up to us from below.

And Comyn,--of what was he thinking? Of some fair home set upon the downs across the sea, of some heroic English mother who had kept her tears until he was gone? Her image rose in dumb entreaty, invoked by the lad before me. What a picture was he in his spotless s.h.i.+rt with the ruffles, his handsome boyish face all that was good and honest!

I had scarce felt his Lords.h.i.+p's wrist than I knew I had to deal with a pupil of Angelo. At first his attacks were all simple, without feint or trickery, as were mine. Collinson cursed and cried out that it was buffoonery, and called on my Lord not to let me off so easily; swore that I fenced like a mercer, that he could have stuck me like a pin-cus.h.i.+on twenty and twenty times. Often have I seen two animals thrust into a pit with nothing but good-will between them, and those without force them into anger and a deadly battle. And so it was, unconsciously, between Comyn and me. I forgot presently that I was not dealing with Captain Collinson, and my feelings went into my sword.

Comyn began to press me, nor did I give back. And then, before it came over me that we had to do with life and death, he was upon me with a volte coupe, feinting in high carte and thrusting in low tierce, his point pa.s.sing through a fold in my s.h.i.+rt. And I were not alive to write these words had I not leaped out of his measure.

”Bravo, Richard!” cried Fotheringay.

”Well made, gads life!” from Mr. Furness.

We engaged again, our faces hot. Now I knew that if I did not carry the matter against him I should be killed out of hand, and Heaven knows I was not used to play a pa.s.sive part. I began to go carefully, but fiercely; tried one attack after another that my grandfather and Captain Daniel had taught me,--flanconnades, beats, and lunges. Comyn held me even, and in truth I had much to do to defend myself. Once I thought I had him in the sword-arm, after a circular parry, but he was too quick for me. We were sweating freely by now, and by reason of the buzzing in my ears I could scarce hear the applause of the seconds.

What unlucky chance it was I know not that impelled Comyn to essay again the trick by which he had come so near to spitting me; but try it he did, this time in prime and seconde. I had come by nature to that intuition which a true swordsman must have, gleaned from the eyes of his adversary. Long ago Captain Daniel had taught me the remedy for this coupe. I parried, circled, and straightened, my body in swift motion and my point at Comyn's heart, when Heaven brought me recollection in the s.p.a.ce of a second. My sword rang clattering on the floor.

His Lords.h.i.+p understood, but too late. Despairing his life, he made one wild lunge at me that had never gone home had I held to my hilt. But the rattle of the blade had scarce reached my ears when there came a sharp pain at my throat, and the room faded before me. I heard the clock striking the half-hour.

I was blessed with a st.u.r.dy health such as few men enjoy, and came to myself sooner than had been looked for, with a dash of cold water. And the first face I beheld was that of Colonel Was.h.i.+ngton. I heard him speaking in a voice that was calm, yet urgent and commanding.

”I pray you, gentlemen, give back. He is coming to, and must have air.

Fetch some linen!”

”Now G.o.d be praised!” I heard Captain Daniel cry.

With that his Lords.h.i.+p began to tear his own s.h.i.+rt into strips, and the captain bringing a bowl and napkin, the colonel himself washed the wound and bound it deftly, Singleton and Captain Daniel a.s.sisting. When Mr.

Was.h.i.+ngton had finished, he turned to Comyn, who stood, anxious and dishevelled, at my feet.

”You may be thankful that you missed the artery, my Lord,” he said.

”With all my heart, Colonel Was.h.i.+ngton!” cried his Lords.h.i.+p. ”I owe my life to his generosity.”

”What's that, sir?”

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