THE CHARM OF THE OLD WORLD ROMANCES – Premium 10 Book Collection. Robert Barr
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Rodolph advanced a few steps and once more accosted his foe.
"My Lord," he said, "you see, I trust, that I hold your life at my mercy. I am willing to give terms to a brave antagonist, which he refused to me."
"In truth," grumbled the archer, "I see nothing brave in one who attacks with three, all heavily armoured and mounted, two on foot, one of whom is without weapons. I beg you to tell him so, or allow me to speak my mind to him, for he is a proud man and I doubt not with proper goading, he may be urged to a fresh onset."
Rodolph paid no attention to the interruption, but continued:
"If you will give me your word that you will return to Cochem, you may pass unharmed, and we will not attempt to molest you further."
The Count, however, made no reply, but sat like a statue on his black horse, gazing on his fallen comrades and meditating on the changed situation. Then he groped in a receptacle that hung by his saddle and drew forth, not a new weapon, as the archer, peering at him, suspected, but a filmy web that glittered like an array of diamonds. This, removing his gauntlets, he clasped about his neck, fastening it to the lower part of his helmet, shaking the folds over his shoulders like a cape.
"Fine chain armour of Milan steel," murmured the archer, seemingly hovering between anxiety regarding the defensive qualities of the new accoutrement and delight at the thought that the Count was again about to venture himself against them. With a clank of iron on iron the warrior brought down his barred visor over his face, and, drawing on his gauntlets which during these preparations had rested on his saddle bow, grasped his lance and lowered it, presenting now no pregnable point of his person to the flying arrow.
"By Saint George," cried the archer, "I would fain take service with that man. He displays a persistence in combat which warms my heart towards him."
But the softness of the archer's heart did not cause him to take any precaution the less, for he drew out a sheaf of arrows, selecting carefully three that seemed to be thinner at the point than the others. Two of these he placed in his mouth, letting their feathered ends stick out far to his left, so that his bow arm was free from their interference; the third he notched, with some minuteness, on the string.
"My Lord, I must shoot now," he mumbled with his encumbered mouth, looking anxiously at Rodolph, who in turn was viewing no less anxiously the silent preparations of Bertrich. The Count, however, was in little hurry to begin, apparently wishing to satisfy himself that he had neglected no expedient necessary for his own safety.
"There is no help for it," said the Emperor. "Do your best, and Heaven speed the shaft."
The bowman twanged the string, bending forward eagerly to watch the fate of his arrow. The shaft sang an ever lowering song, as it flew, falling fairly against the bars of the visor with an impact that rang back to them, palpably penetrating an interstice of the helmet, for it hung there in plain sight. The Count angrily shook his head, like an impatient horse tormented by the bite of a fly, but he sat steady, which showed the archer there was an arrow wasted. The toss of his head did not dislodge the missile, and the Count, with a sweep of his gauntlet, broke it away and cast it contemptuously from him.
"Alas!" groaned the archer, fitting the second to the string, "it was the thinnest bolt I had."
Count Bertrich waited not for the second, but came eagerly to meet it, bending down as a man does who faces a storm—levelling lance and striking spur. The horse gallantly responded. The second arrow struck the helmet and fell shivered, the third was aimed at the chain armour on the neck, and striking it, glanced into the wood, disappearing among the thick foliage. Still Bertrich came on unchecked, raising his head now to see through the apertures of his visor to the transfixing of the archer, who, well knowing there was but scant time for further experiment, hastily plucked a fourth arrow from his quiver, and, without taking aim, launched it with a wail of grief at the charger, driving the arrow up to its very wing in the horse's neck just above the steel breastplate. The horse, with a roar of terror, fell forward on its knees, its rider's lance thrusting point into the earth some distance ahead, whereupon Bertrich, like an acrobat vaulting on a pole, described an arc in the air and fell, with jangling clash of armour, at the feet of the Emperor, relaxing his limbs and lying there with a smothered moan.
The archer paid no attention to the fallen noble, but running forward to the horse began to bewail the necessity that had encompassed its destruction. He however thriftily pulled the arrow from its stiffening neck, wiped it on the grass, and spoke, as if to the dead horse, of the celerity of its end, and the generally satisfactory nature of bow-shot wounds, wishing that the animal might have had a realisation of its escape from being mauled to its death by clumsy Germans.
Rodolph stooped over his foe to throw back on its hinges his visor, whose opening revealed the unconscious face of the Count.
"It seems inhuman to leave him thus," he said, "but there is a woman's safety in question, and I fear he must take the chance he drove down upon."
"He can make no complaint of that," replied the archer, "and is like to come speedily to his contentious self again, if I may judge by the flutter of his eyelids. Indeed, I grieve not for his bruises, but for the hurt his obstinacy forced me to inflict upon his poor horse, a noble animal which I never would have slain did not necessity compel."
"Capture a horse belonging to one of the fallen men, and accompany me down the hill," said Rodolph, briefly.
The archer first recovered the two arrows that had overthrown his unknown opponents, bestowing on their bodies none of the sympathy he had lavished on the horse, for, as he muttered to himself, it was their trade, and a well-met shaft should occasion them little surprise, which undoubtedly was the fact.
Having, with some difficulty, secured one of the horses, and with still more trouble succeeded in seating himself in the saddle—for, as he said, he was more accustomed to the broad of his foot than the back of a horse—he followed his leader, who, with grave anxiety, was scanning the river bank opposite Alken, hoping to see some indication of the Countess emerging from the forest.
"Archer," said Rodolph, turning to his follower, "your great skill, and no less indomitable courage, has to-day saved my life, and has placed me otherwise under more obligation to you than you can easily estimate. I hope yet to make good my debt, but in the meantime I may cheer your heart by telling you that your expert bowmanship has made inevitable what was before extremely probable, which is, that these valleys will shortly ring with war, and the Lord only knows when the conflict shall cease—possibly not until yonder castle is destroyed, or the Archbishop returns defeated to Treves."
"Say you so, my Lord? Then indeed is virtue rewarded, as I have always been taught, though seeing little confirmation of it in my wandering over this earth. I winged my shafts for the pure pleasure of seeing them speed, not forgetting my duty to you in the earning of my threepence a day, duly advanced into my palm before service was asked, the which, I know to my grief, is not customary among nobles, although fair encouragement in spoils gives compensation for backwardness in pay; still I had no hope for such outcome as war, when I drew string to ear, and am the more encouraged to think that a wholesome act, thus unselfishly accomplished, brings fitting recompense so trippingly on its trail. You spoke of the Archbishop (God bless his Lordship), do I fight, think you, for, or against him?"
"As the man you have so recently overturned is the friend, favourite, and in general the right hand of the Archbishop, judge you in which camp your neck is hereafter the safer."