The Hunters of the Hills by Joseph A. Altsheler (best books under 200 pages txt) 📗

"Aye, ready, sir!" replied Robert, speaking like a pupil to his master. Then the two advanced toward the center of the room and faced each other, raising their slim swords which flashed in the flame of the candles like thin lines of light. Then Willet thrust like lightning, but his blade slipped off Robert's, and young Lennox thrust back only to have his own weapon caught on the other.

"Ah," exclaimed the gallant Frenchman. "Well done! Well done for both!"

Then he held his breath as the play of the swords became so fast that the eye could scarcely follow. They made vivid lines, and steel flashed upon steel with such speed that at times the ringing sound seemed continuous. Willet's agility was amazing. Despite his size and weight he was as swift and graceful as a dancing master, and the power of his wrist was wonderful. The amazement of young de Galisonnière increased. He had seen the best swordsmanship in Quebec, and he had seen the best swordsmanship in Paris, but he had never seen better swordsmanship than that shown in a room of the Inn of the Eagle by a man whom he had taken to be a mere hunter in the American wilderness.

De Galisonnière was an artist with the sword himself, and he knew swordsmanship when he saw it. He knew, too, that Lennox was but little inferior to Willet. He saw that the older man was not sparing the youth, that he was incessantly beating against the strongest parts of his defense, and that he was continually seeking out his weakest. Robert was driven around and around the room, and yet Willet did not once break through his guard.

"Ah, beautiful! beautiful!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know that such swordsmen could come out of the woods!"

His eyes met those of the Onondaga and for the first time he saw a gleam in their dark depths.

"Their swords are alive," said Tayoga. "They are living streaks of flame."

"That describes it, my friend," said de Galisonnière. "I shall be proud to be one of the seconds of Mr. Lennox in the morning."

Willet suddenly dropped the buttoned point of his rapier and raised his left hand.

"Enough, Robert," he said, "I can't allow you to tire yourself tonight, and run the risk of stiffening in the wrist tomorrow. In strength you are superior to de Mézy, and in wind far better. You should have no trouble with him. Watch his eye and stand for a while on the defensive. One of his habits, will soon wear himself down, and then he will be at your mercy."

"You are a wonderful swordsman, Mr. Willet," said de Galisonnière, frank in his admiration. "I did not think such skill, such power and such a variety in attack and defense could be learned outside of Paris."

"Perhaps not!" said Willet, smiling. "The greatest masters of the sword in the world teach in Paris, and it was there that I learned what I know."

"What, you have been in Paris?"

"Aye, Captain de Galisonnière, I know my Paris well."

But he volunteered nothing further and Louis de Galisonnière's delicacy kept him from asking any more questions. Nevertheless he had an intensified conviction that three most extraordinary people had come to Quebec, and he was glad to know them. Jean de Mézy, count of France, and powerful man though he might be, was going to receive a punishment richly deserved. He detested Bigot, Cadet, Pean and all their corrupt crowd, while recognizing the fact that they were almost supreme in Quebec. It would be pleasing to the gods for de Mézy to be humiliated, and it did not matter if the humiliation came from the hands of a Bostonnais.

"Would you mind trying a round or two at the foils with me?" he said to Willet. "Since you don't have to fight in the morning you needn't fear any stiffening of the wrist, and I should like to learn something about that low thrust of yours, the one well beneath your opponent's guard, and which only a movement like lightning can reach. You used it five times, unless my eye missed a sixth."

"And so you noticed it!" said Willet, looking pleased. "I made six such thrusts, but Robert met them every time. I've trained him to be on the watch for it, because in a real combat it's sure to be fatal, unless it's parried with the swiftness of thought."

"Then teach me," said de Galisonnière eagerly. "We're a fighting lot here in Quebec, and it may save my life some day."

Willet was not at all averse, and for nearly an hour he taught the young Frenchman. Then de Galisonnière departed, cautioning Robert to sleep well, and saying that he would come early in the morning with his friend, Glandelet.

"His advice about sleeping was good, Robert," said Willet. "Now roll into bed and off with you to slumberland at once."

Robert obeyed and his nerves were so steady and his mind so thoroughly at peace that in fifteen minutes he slept. The hunter watched his steady breathing with satisfaction and said to Tayoga:

"If our bibulous friend, Count Jean de Mézy, doesn't have a surprise in the morning, then I'll go back to the woods, and stay there as long as I live."

"Will Lennox kill him?" asked Tayoga.

"I hadn't thought much about it, Tayoga, but he won't kill him. Robert isn't sanguinary. He doesn't want anybody's blood on his hands, and it wouldn't help our mission to take a life in Quebec."

"The man de Mézy does not deserve to live."

Willet laughed.

"That's so, Tayoga," he said, "but it's no part of our business to go around taking the lives away from all those who don't make good use of 'em. Why, if we undertook such a job we'd have to work hard for the next thousand years. I think we'd better fall on, ourselves, and snatch about eight good hours of slumber."

In a few minutes three instead of one slept, and when the first ray of sunlight entered the room in the morning Tayoga awoke. He opened the window, letting the fresh air pour in, and he raised his nostrils to it like a hound that has caught the scent. It brought to him the aromatic odors of his beloved wilderness, and, for a time, he was back in the great land of the Hodenosaunee among the blue lakes and the silver streams. He had been educated in the white man's schools, and his friendship for Robert and Willet was strong and enduring, but his heart was in the forest. Enlightened and humane, he had nevertheless asked seriously the night before the question: "Will Lennox kill him?" He had discovered something fetid in Quebec and to him de Mézy was a noxious animal that should be destroyed. He wished, for an instant, that he knew the sword and that he was going to stand in Lennox's place.

Then he woke Robert and Willet, and they dressed quickly, but by the time they had finished Monsieur Berryer knocked on the door and told them breakfast was ready. The innkeeper's manner was flurried. He was one of the honnêtes gens who liked peace and an upright life. He too wished the insolent pride of de Mézy to be humbled, but he had scarcely come to the point where he wanted to see a Bostonnais do it. Nor did he believe that it could be done. De Mézy was a good swordsman, and his friends would see that he was in proper condition. Weighing the matter well, Monsieur Berryer was, on the whole, sorry for the young stranger.

But Robert himself showed no apprehensions. He ate his excellent breakfast with an equally excellent appetite, and Monsieur Berryer noticed that his hand did not tremble. He observed, too, that he had spirit enough to talk and laugh with his friends, and when Captain de Galisonnière and another young Frenchman, Lieutenant Armand Glandelet, arrived, he welcomed them warmly.

The captain carried under his arm a long thin case, in which Monsieur Berryer knew that the swords lay. Lieutenant Armand Glandelet was presented duly and Robert liked his appearance, his age apparently twenty-three or four, his complexion fair and his figure slender. His experience in affairs of honor was not as great as de Galisonnière's, and he showed some excitement, but he was one of the honnêtes gens and he too wished, the punishment of de Mézy. Perhaps he had suffered from him some insult or snub which he was not in a position to resent fully.

"Is your wrist strong and steady and without soreness, Mr. Lennox?" asked Captain de Galisonnière.

"It was never more flexible," replied Robert confidently. "Shall we go to the field? I should like to be there first."

"A praiseworthy attitude," said Captain de Galisonnière. "The sun is just rising and the light is good. Come."

Keeping the long, thin case under his arm, he went forth, and the rest followed. Monsieur Berryer also came at a respectful distance, and others fell into line with him. Robert walked by the side of Willet.

"Don't forget that low thrust," said the hunter, "and watch his eye. You feel no apprehensions?"

"None at all, thanks to you. I'm quite sure I'm his master."

"Then it's a good morning for a fight, and the setting is perfect. You'll remember this day, Robert. What a wonderful situation has the Quebec of the French that was the Stadacona of the Mohawks! A fine town, a great rock and the king of rivers! The St. Lawrence looks golden in the early sunlight, and what a lot of it there is!"

"Yes, it's a great stream," said Robert, looking at the golden river and the far shores, green and high.

"Here we are," said de Galisonnière, passing beyond some outlying houses. "It's a good, clear opening, pretty well surrounded by trees, with plenty of sunlight at all points, and as you wished, Mr. Lennox, we're the first to arrive."

They stood together, talking with apparent unconcern, while the morning unfolded, and the golden sunlight over the river deepened. Although he had been trained with the sword for years, it would be Robert's first duel, and, while he approached it with supreme confidence, he knew that he could find no joy in the shedding of another's blood. He felt it a strange chance that such an affair should be forced upon him, and yet this was a dueling city. The hot young spirits of France had brought their customs with them into the North American wilderness, and perhaps the unsought chance, if he used it as he thought he could, would not serve him so ill after all.

De Mézy, with his seconds, Nemours and Le Moyne, was approaching among the trees. It appeared that the seconds for both had arranged everything at a meeting the night before, and nothing was left for the two principals but to fight. Robert saw at a single glance that de Mézy's head was clear. Some of the mottled color had left his cheeks, but the effect was an improvement, and he bore himself like a man who was strong and confident. He and his seconds wore dark blue cloaks over their uniforms, which they laid aside when they saw that Robert and his friends were present.

Nemours stepped forward and asked to speak with Captain de Galisonnière.

"Count Jean de Mézy," he said, "is an experienced swordsman, a victor in a dozen duels, a man of great skill, and he does not wish to take an advantage that might seem unfair to others. He considers the extreme youth of his opponent, and if by chance his friend, Mr. Willet, should know the sword, he will meet him instead."

It was, on the whole, a handsome offer, better than they had expected from de Mézy, and Galisonnière looked with inquiry, first at young Lennox and then at Willet. But Robert shook his head.

"No," he said, "Captain de Mézy's offer does him credit, but I decline it. I am his inferior in years, but his equal in stature and strength, and I have had some experience with the sword. Mr. Willet would gladly take my place, but I can support the combat myself."

Nemours stepped back, and Robert resolved that de Mézy's offer should not have been made wholly in vain. It would save the Frenchman some of his blood, but Nemours and de Galisonnière were now choosing the positions in such a manner that neither would have the sun in his eyes but merely his shoulder against the disc. Robert took off his coat and waistcoat and Willet folded them over