Won By the Sword : a tale of the Thirty Years' War by G. A. Henty (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

“Your judgment is correct, captain. The viscount wishes to obtain certain information, and I am going to fetch it for him, if I can.”

“I hope that you will be successful, sir. It is a good night for travelling, the stars are bright and the moon down, so that you will have light enough to keep the road, and time enough to step aside should you meet any party who might be inclined to question all passersby.”

“Do you know the roads well about here?” Hector asked.

“I was stationed in Turin before the enemy came with too great a force to be resisted.”

“I want to strike across the country, and to come into the road from Turin to Casale at a distance of three or four miles from the city.”

“A mile or so away a road branches off from this which keeps by the river. It is a mere country road, and except in two or three small villages that you will pass through, you are not likely to meet with anyone upon it. It is about eight miles to the main road from the point where you turn off, and you will then be five miles from Turin. It is just possible that you may meet patrols, but I should think it very unlikely; now that our army has gone into winter quarters at Carignano, they are not likely to be very vigilant.”

As they rode along Hector related some of the incidents of the late battle. No signs of the enemy were met with, and the officer presently said, “I am sorry to say that this is the point where you leave us, monsieur. I wish it had been a little farther, so that I could hear more of the fight.”

Hector and Paolo dismounted. Two troopers were called up and took charge of their horses, while the cloaks and hats were given to the officer's orderly, then the two lads put on the Savoyard hats they had carried under their cloaks. The officer took two packets from his holster.

“The colonel bade me give this to you at starting,” he said. “He thought that after a long walk on foot you would want some slight refreshment before the inns were open in the morning.”

“Will you please give him my hearty thanks for his thoughtfulness,” Hector said, “and accept the same yourself for your courtesy in escorting me.”

“Now we are fairly on our way, Paolo,” he went on as he turned down the lane, for it was little more; “this package is a bottle of wine, and the one that I have handed to you contains the eatables.”

“That is good, master. We shall find it pretty cold before morning, and there is nothing like a good meal to warm one up again.”

“Did you get the bow and arrows at Chivasso?”

“Yes, sir. I went out and bought them as soon as we got there. I wanted them, I told the man, for a boy of ten years old, but all he had were a good deal too long, which I was glad of, for a child's bow would hardly have been strong enough, so I made him cut one down until it was not more than three feet long. That way I shall be able, as we agreed, to carry it under my doublet. Of course it will make me walk stiffly, and there will be no possibility of sitting down, but that matters not at all. It is all the stronger, and will send an arrow a good distance. I have got six arrows as you ordered me. They are regular arrows, but I made the man shorten them so as to suit the bow, and then repoint them. I have got them inside my doublet. I tied them together, made a hole in the lining under the arm, and put them in.”

“You have not forgotten the cord, I hope, Paolo?”

“Not I, master. I should have deserved having my ears cut off if I had done so.”

They were in no hurry, and walked only fast enough to keep themselves warm. In two hours and a half they arrived at the main road and turned to the right. “Now we will go another couple of miles, Paolo, and then look out for a sleeping place. An empty barn or stable or a stack of fodder is what we want. We may as well sleep warm as cold. We shall not want to be moving on till seven o'clock.”

After walking three miles they came upon a small village.

“Do you stay here, master, I will go round and see if I can find a place. I am more accustomed to these villages than you are.”

In five minutes he returned. “I have found a capital place,” he said. “It is a stable, but it is empty. No doubt the Spaniards have taken the horses, and are using them in their transport wagons.”

“It is enough for us that the place is empty, Paolo.”

The door stood ajar. They entered and closed it behind them, and they then felt about until they found a pile of rough fodder. They pulled some of this aside, lay down and covered themselves up with the stalks they had removed, and in three minutes were fast asleep, for they had had a long day's work. Hector slept until he was awakened by Paolo, who said, “The day is breaking, and the village will be astir in a few minutes.” The weather had changed, and as they stepped out fine flakes of snow were drifting through the air, and the ground was already whitened. They regained the road and walked along until they came to a wood.

“We may as well wait here and breakfast, Paolo.” The parcel was opened and found to contain a cold capon and some bread, and on these and the wine they made a capital breakfast, each taking a long sip at the bottle to the health of the colonel. “The market people are beginning to come along, and we may as well buy something from them going in. If we have not something to sell it is not unlikely that we shall be asked questions.” It was now broad daylight, and they saw several peasants pass along the road, some with baskets, others driving a pig or a goat.

“Either of these would do,” Hector said; “but we don't know where the market is, and it would never do to seem ignorant of that.” The snow had stopped suddenly some minutes before, and the sun was now shining.

“That is lucky,” Hector said as they walked down towards the road, “we may hope that there will be no more snow and that the sun will soon melt what has fallen. It would be fatal to us if the ground were white, for the most careless sentry could not help seeing us upon it.”

They reached the road just as a peasant came along. He was an old man, and was dragging behind him a pile of faggots, which were placed upon two rough poles. He was walking between these, holding two ends in his hands, while the others trailed along on the ground behind.

“Bargain with him, Paolo.”

“That is a heavy load, father,” the latter said.

“Ay, it is heavy.”

“How much do you expect to get for your faggots in the town?”