Part 3 (1/2)

After going about a hundred yards they came to a clear s.p.a.ce, surrounded by some fine ash-trees. The Prince signified to the soldiers to stop here, and, without a word, began to take off his dolman and mantle and tuck up his sleeves.

It was a fine sight to behold these men--all three of them were remarkably handsome fellows. The Prince was one of those vigorous, muscular shapes, whom Nature herself seems specially to have created to head a host. As he rolled up the flapping sleeves of his gold-embroidered, calf-skin s.h.i.+rt, he displayed muscles capable of holding their own single-handed against a whole brigade, and the defiant look of his eye testified to his confidence in the strength of his arms, whose every muscle stood out like a hard tumour, while his fists were worthy of the heavy broadsword, whose blade was broadest towards its point.

Feriz Beg, on discarding his dolman, rolled up the sleeves of his fine s.h.i.+rt of Turkish linen to his shoulders, and drew from its sheath his fine Damascus scimitar, which was scarce two inches broad, and so flexible that you could have bent it double in every direction like a watch-spring. His arms did not seem to be over-enc.u.mbered with muscles, but at the first movement he made, as he lightly tested his blade, a whole array of steel springs and stone-hard sinews, or so they seemed to be, suddenly started up upon his arm, revealing a whole network of highly-developed sinews and muscles. His face was fixed and grave.

Only Emeric seemed to take the whole affair as a light joke. With a smile he drew up his lace-embroidered s.h.i.+rt of holland linen, bound up his hair beneath his kalpag, and folded his well-rounded arms, whose feminine whiteness, plastic, regular symmetry, and slender proportions, gave no promise whatever of anything like manly strength. His sword came from a famous Newcastle arms manufactory, and was made of a certain dark, lilac-coloured steel, somewhat bent, and with a very fine point.

”My friends,” said Emeric, turning towards his opponents, ”as there are three of us in this contest, and each one of the three must fight the other two, let us lay down some rule to regulate the encounter.”

”I'll fight the pair of you together,” said the Prince haughtily.

”I'll also fight one against two,” retorted Feriz.

”Then each one for himself and everybody against everybody else,”

explained Tokoly. ”That will certainly be amusing enough; in fact, a new sort of encounter altogether, though hardly what gentlemen are used to.

Now, I should consider it much n.o.bler if we fought against each other singly, and when one of us falls, the victor can renew the combat with the man in reserve.”

”I don't mind, only the sooner the better,” said the Prince impatiently, and took up his position on the ground.

”Stop, my friend; don't you know that we cannot commence this contest without Feriz?”

”Pooh! I didn't come here as a spectator,” cried the Prince pa.s.sionately; ”besides, I have nothing to do with the Beg.”

”But I have to do with you,” interrupted Feriz.

”Well,” said Tokoly, ”I myself do not know what has offended him, but he chose to intervene, and such challenges as his are wont to be accepted without asking the reason why. No doubt he has private reasons of his own.”

”You may stop there,” interrupted Feriz. ”Let Fate decide.”

”By all means,” observed the Count, drawing forth three pieces of money impressed with the image of King Sigismund--a gold coin, a silver coin, and a copper coin--and handed them to the Turkish leech. ”Take these pieces of money, my worthy fellow, and throw them into the air. The gold coin is the Prince, the copper coin is myself. Whichever two of the three coins come down on the same side, their representatives will fight first.”

The leech flung the pieces into the air, and the gold and silver pieces came down on the same side.

The Prince beckoned angrily to Feriz.

”Come, the sooner the better. Apparently I must have this little affair off my hands before I can get at Tokoly.”

Tokoly motioned to the leech to keep the pieces of money and have his bandages ready.

”Bandages!” said the Prince ironically. ”It's not first blood, but last blood, I'm after.”

And now the combatants stood face to face.

For a long time they looked into each other's eyes, as if they would begin the contest with the darts of flas.h.i.+ng glances, and then suddenly they fell to.

The Prince's onset was as furious as if he would have crushed his opponent in the twinkling of an eye with the heavy and violent blows which he rained upon him with all his might. But Feriz Beg stood firmly on the self-same spot where he had first planted his feet, and though he was obliged to bend backwards a little to avoid the impact of the terrible blows, yet his slender Damascus scimitar, wove, as it were, a tent of lightning flashes all around him, defending him on every side, and flas.h.i.+ng sparks now hither, now thither, whenever it encountered the antagonistic broadsword.

The Prince's face was purple with rage. ”Miserable puppy!” he thundered, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth; and, pressing still closer on his opponent, he dealt him two or three such terrible blows that the Beg was beaten down upon one knee, and, the same instant, a jet of blood leaped suddenly from somewhere into the face of the Prince, who thereupon staggered back and let fall his sword. In the heat of the duel he had not noticed that he had been wounded. Whilst raining down a torrent of violent blows upon his antagonist, he incautiously struck his own hand, so to speak, on the sword of Feriz Beg, just below the palm where the arteries are, and the wound which severed the sinews of the wrist constrained him to drop his sword.