Part 17 (2/2)

”Eh, bien! All the wine-shops will have the tale to-morrow! _En avant, mes enfants!_” he added to his men, and to the great relief of Raymond and his companions the watch shouldered their halberts and moved on towards St. Brieuc.

”A narrow escape,” exclaimed Pierre, crossing himself. ”If we were discovered, three against seven would be long odds.”

”I've been in a worse fix before to-day,” replied Redward st.u.r.dily.

”And we could have taken them by surprise.”

”Nevertheless, fighting is not in my line--on land, at least--and I am thankful it did not come to blows.”

At length they arrived at a narrow street, where storeys of the houses projected beyond those below, till the uppermost ones appeared almost to meet, shutting out even the dim gloom of the now starlit-sky.

With the air of a man who feels certain of his ground Pierre strode rapidly ahead, the others following closely at his heels. Presently he stopped outside a house, and drawing his dagger, struck lightly upon the door with the hilt. After a few seconds' delay they heard the sound of some one moving within, and the door was carefully unbarred and thrown open.

Pierre whispered a few words to the occupant, then, bidding his former pa.s.sengers farewell, he turned on his heel and walked swiftly and silently towards the sh.o.r.e.

The Englishmen followed their host into a low, ill-lighted room, and for the first time they were able to see what manner of man he was.

A misshapen, undersized body, surmounted by a lean, yellow-skinned face, and furnished with a pair of long arms, the hands of which, shaking as if with ague, resembled the claws of a bird, formed the outward appearance of the barber and chirurgeon of Legue; and Raymond could not repress a shudder as he gazed upon this caricature of a human being.

”Ye are for Hennebon?” he asked in a quavering tone, rolling his l.u.s.treless eyes from one to the other.

”Ay,” replied Redward, ”but how, by Saint Gregoire of Brittany, didst thou know?”

”The s.h.i.+pman, my foster-brother, hath told me. But the money, the money?” he added, opening his withered hand.

”A curse on the s.h.i.+pman,” growled Redward to himself, ”his tongue will be our undoing. Here, take this,” he added, counting out a sum of money equivalent to the five sols demanded. ”Canst furnish us with a horse apiece?”

Ignoring the question, the barber counted the pieces, putting each coin between his toothless gums, as if doubtful of their quality.

”Didst hear me--respecting the use of two horses?” demanded Redward sternly.

”Yea, n.o.ble master,” replied the barber. ”But there are none to be had.”

”None?”

”None! They have all been seized by those of Blois till the affair is over. Therefore, by necessity, ye must go afoot--and the roads are very unsafe for travellers at present, especially Englishmen bound for Hennebon!”

”A pest on your words! What would ye have us do?”

The old man advanced a step, peering with his bleared eyes into the face of the master-bowman.

”For money there is much to be had!” he croaked, a sardonic smile overspreading his withered face, while his long fingers clawed invisible heaps of gold.

”Out on thee for an arrant cheat! Give thy plan and name the price.”

Slowly and deliberately, his voice hardly above a whisper, the Breton replied: ”Did it ever occur to thy n.o.ble self that the dress of a leper would make the best protection?”

Redward recoiled, in spite of his hardened nerves, for sufferers from that loathsome and incurable disease were far from rare in Western Europe in those days. In France they were compelled by law to wear long grey gowns and hoods, and to carry a ”barillet,” or rattle, to give due warning of their approach. Under severe penalties they were forbidden to remain in the larger cities and towns, or to beg or use their rattle for the purpose of exciting pity. Thus it was common to see them wandering over the countryside in pairs, their approach being the signal for other wayfarers to pa.s.s them at a safe distance.[1]

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