Part 19 (1/2)

By the roadside was a heather-covered bank, while between a ma.s.s of rocks a spring gushed forth, the water making a pleasant sound in the ears of the weary travellers.

Father and son drank at the spring, then clambering over the bank, lay down on the springy heather, where, without being seen, they could command the road for nearly a league.

”'Tis quite evident that we can outpace those poor wretches,” said Raymond, stretching out his limbs to their fullest extent in appreciation of his natural bed. ”Here we can rest in comfort till they draw nigh; then, refreshed, we can hasten onwards once more.”

For nearly an hour they remained, sleep all but claiming them. Not a word was spoken, though Redward gave an occasional grunt as he raised himself on his elbow at intervals to watch the advancing lepers.

The heat, too, was terrific, the sun beating down with fierce violence on their unprotected resting-place.

Suddenly Raymond raised himself and looked along the road they had just traversed. There were the two grey-robed figures moving slowly up the hill, but away in the distance the sun glittered upon a swiftly-moving ma.s.s of steel, followed by a thick cloud of dust.

”Soldiers!” he exclaimed.

Redward raised himself. ”I like it not,” he exclaimed. ”They are following us. That rogue of a barber hath betrayed us. Lie low, Raymond, and let them pa.s.s; I perceive 'twill mean a journey by night for us.”

Stretching side by side, and concealing their hoods with sprays of heather, father and son waited and watched. The two lepers were within two hundred paces ere they heard the thunder of the horses'

hoofs behind them. With a cry of terror one of the twain turned and fled; the other, ignorant of the intentions of the pursuing hors.e.m.e.n, held his ground, flouris.h.i.+ng his rattle with the vigour that danger bestowed upon him.

Like a flash the foremost soldier was upon him; a back-handed sweeping cut with his sword and the grey-robed figure was dashed to the earth, and ere his companion had come level with the spot where the Englishmen were concealed, he was transfixed by a lance-thrust and was trampled beneath the horses' hoofs.

With wild cries of exultation the troop of hors.e.m.e.n reined in their steeds and surveyed the result of their fell work.

”Quickly, Geoffroi! Strip those cloaks from the bodies of these accursed English and search them for concealed papers,” ordered their leader. ”By St. Denis, 'tis a smart piece of work, though I little thought the rogues would have died so tamely!”

The soldier addressed dismounted, handed his still reeking lance to a comrade, and bent over the corpse of the man he had slain. With a quick motion he tore aside the robe. But the next instant, uttering a shriek of terror, he jumped backwards, covering his eyes with his hands as if to ward off a blow.

”_Mon Dieu!_” exclaimed the captain, craning over the neck of his charger. ”What have we done? They are in truth real lepers! Dolt of a barber! A curse upon Raoul de Rohein! He hath deceived us! Is it the same with the other?”

The first victim had fallen on his back, and his hood, stained with his blood, had slipped from off his head, disclosing the repulsive disease-eaten features of a man whose malady was far advanced.

”Stand back, all of you!” shouted the captain, beside himself with rage and mortification. ”Stand back! Do thou, Jehan, cast thy sword and its sheath from thee lest thou die! And do thou, Geoffroi, ride fifty paces behind us, and hold communication with no man till the law respecting contagion is complied with. Now back to the town with all speed, _mes enfants_, for I have an account to settle with Maitre Raoul! What will they say of us when they hear we have vanquished nought but a pair of lepers?”

The troop galloped away down the dusty road towards St. Brieuc, the unfortunate soldier following in the rear, his face ashen with terror at the thought of the loathsome death he had courted, while two mottled grey corpses, a discarded sword, and the imprints of the hoofs of the cavalry alone remained to mark the scene of so swift and terrible a tragedy.

Shuddering at the thought of their narrow escape, Raymond and his father rose, and with averted faces, left behind them the bodies of the ill-fated men, and pursued their journey. Not till they were two leagues from the spot did they halt; then, selecting a secluded coppice, they threw themselves on the ground and were soon deep in dreamless slumber.

The sun had set and the stars were beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky ere the travellers awoke stiff and cramped with lying on the bare earth; but stern duty urged them onwards, and with swinging stride they resumed their way.

Along the deserted highway, past the slumbering village of Ploeue they jogged, too discomforted and weary even to engage in conversation.

About two hours after midnight they were startled by hearing the sound of hors.e.m.e.n behind them. Without hesitation Redward sprang to the side of the road, dragging the squire with him; then kneeling down and placing his ear to the ground he listened intently.

”'Tis but a pair of hors.e.m.e.n,” he whispered. ”See to thy sword, for there will be work afoot for us!”

The riders had now slackened down to a slow trot, and by their conversation the Englishmen recognised that one of them was an old acquaintance--none other than the Sieur d'Erqui.

”Once have we met him, and once at least hath he done us a service,”

muttered the bowman in a low tone. ”Methinks yet another service will he render us. Now, follow me!”

Giving a tremendous salute with his rattle, Redward, with Raymond close at his heels, sprang into the road and barred the Sieur's way.