Part 39 (1/2)

Gerard turned, and saw one of those four holding out a badge of office and a parchment slip. His heart sank; for he was a good citizen, and used to obey the voice that now bade him turn again to Dusseldorf--the Law's.

Denys did not share his scruples. He was a Frenchman, and despised every other nation, laws, inmates and customs included. He was a soldier, and took a military view of the situation. Superior force opposed; river between; rear open; why, 'twas retreat made easy. He saw at a glance that the boat still drifted in mid stream, and there was no ferry nearer than Dusseldorf. ”I shall beat a retreat to that hill,” said he, ”and then, being out of sight, quick step.”

They sauntered off.

”Halt, in the bailiff's name!” cried a voice from the sh.o.r.e.

Denys turned round and ostentatiously snapped his fingers at the bailiff, and proceeded.

”Halt! in the archbishop's name.”

Denys snapped his fingers at his grace, and proceeded.

”Halt! in the emperor's name.”

Denys snapped his fingers at his majesty, and proceeded.

Gerard saw this needless pantomime with regret, and as soon as they had pa.s.sed the brow of the hill said, ”There is now but one course, we must run to Burgundy instead of walking;” and he set off, and ran the best part of a league without stopping.

Denys was fairly blown, and inquired what on earth had become of Gerard's fever. ”I begin to miss it sadly,” said he drily.

”I dropped it in Rhine, I trow,” was the reply.

Presently they came to a little village, and here Denys purchased a loaf and a huge bottle of Rhenish wine. For he said ”we must sleep in some hole or corner. If we lie at an inn we shall be taken in our beds.” This was no more than common prudence on the old soldier's part.

The official network for catching law-breakers, especially plebeian ones, was very close in that age; though the co-operation of the public was almost null, at all events upon the Continent. The innkeepers were everywhere under close surveillance as to their travellers, for whose acts they were even in some degree responsible, more so it would seem than for their sufferings.

The friends were both glad when the sun set: and delighted, when after a long trudge under the stars (for the moon, if I remember right, did not rise till about 3 in the morning) they came to a large barn belonging to a house at some distance. A quant.i.ty of barley had been lately thrashed: for the heap of straw on one side the thras.h.i.+ng floor was almost as high as the unthrashed corn on the other.

”Here be two royal beds,” said Denys, ”which shall we lie on, the mow, or the straw?”

”The straw for me,” said Gerard.

They sat on the heap, and ate their brown bread, and drank their wine, and then Denys covered his friend up in straw, and heaped it high above him, leaving him only a breathing-hole: ”Water they say is death to fevered men; I'll make warm water on't any how.”

Gerard bade him make his mind easy. ”These few drops from Rhine cannot chill me. I feel heat enough in my body now to parch a kennel, or boil a cloud if I was in one.” And with this epigram his consciousness went so rapidly he might really be said to ”fall asleep.”

Denys, who lay awake awhile, heard that which made him nestle closer.

Horses' hoofs came ringing up from Dusseldorf, and the wooden barn vibrated as they rattled past howling in a manner too well known and understood in the 15th century, but as unfamiliar in Europe now as a red Indian's war-whoop.

Denys shook where he lay.

Gerard slept like a top.

It all swept by, and troop and howls died away.