The Messenger of the Black Prince 25

The Messenger of the Black Prince 25

I rose to the surface to fill my lungs and looked back. He was swimming

after me, lashing the water with his great hands like some monster. His

face was heavy with anger and his teeth shone white like the fangs of a

wolf when he breathed.

 

Once again I dived as far as I could go. This time I did not swim

straight ahead but swerved off towards the left. If I could throw him

off long enough for him to get beyond me in the current, I would have

the better of him and be surer of my escape.

 

But he was as wary as a fox. When I came up for the second time he was

in the middle of the river but moving more slowly. His eyes roamed

continually searching for some trace of me. When he saw that I had edged

off to one side, he raised his fist out of the water and shook it

viciously in my direction and shouted a threat which I did not clearly

hear.

 

I was down again under the surface. To puzzle him the more, I made for

it with all speed towards the island. If I once set my foot upon it I

could lose him among the trees. I could swim to the mainland that lay

either on the right or the left. It would be a chase in which I would

have an even chance. If I had a speck of luck, it would mean my

deliverance.

 

The thought strengthened me. This time I held my breath so long that I

felt I would burst. When I arose I cast a swift glance around. To my

surprise he was nowhere to be seen. He had gone under the water. He was

swimming somewhere, perhaps quite near to grapple with me in case he

could lay hands on me. Perhaps he had decided that I was bound for the

island and that, if he could get there before me, he could conceal

himself behind a tree and pounce on me as I came to land.

 

I lingered a moment in doubt. To fall into a trap would be the height of

folly. I was now as good as free. I was near the left bank of the

stream. Not far off was the dry land and grass and tall trees. A new

enemy was better than an old one. I took the risk. With slow even

strokes I made my way to the shore and climbed in among the high weeds

on the sloping bank.

 

You may be certain that every move I made was with the greatest caution.

I hid myself from view and peered out through the brush. Before I drew

half a dozen breaths I saw my captor rise to the surface far down the

stream. He looked in every direction. Then as though he had made up his

mind he swam swiftly with the current straight for the island and drew

himself up on the shore.

 

It was close on to dusk. The sun was shining over the tops of the trees

to the west. A soft breeze started which, wet as I was, sent the shivers

through my body. There was one thing sure. I could not go far with no

clothes. Nor could I risk sleeping in the open naked as I was, for it

would be the death of me.

 

I resolved that, come what might, as soon as it got dark, I would swim

for the island. There would be danger, to be sure. But I was certain

that my man would be there drying his clothes. I would be in the

protection of the trees. There was no light. If I could come upon him

unawares, I might snatch enough to cover me. Then I could make off with

all my speed and lose him in the woods.

 

It was worth the try. Indeed it was the only thing I could do. I sat

huddled there on the bank of the stream until the sun had disappeared

and the blackness of night covered the earth. I slid into the water.

With long, easy strokes I headed for the island. In a few minutes I was

dragging myself up on dry land.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIX

ON THE ISLAND

 

 

I was chilled to the bone. The touch of my feet on the hard earth made

my going slow and cautious. Now and then I stubbed my toe on a sharp

stone that made me wince. But even with that I advanced in among the

trees.

 

My ears were keyed for the slightest sound and my eyes glanced round

with the wariness of a cat’s. I stopped once in a while to listen for

the cracking of a twig, which was the surest sign that my man was near.

I scarcely breathed. It was one step after the other, and every time I

put my foot down I felt the ground as carefully as you would with your

hand.

 

After a quarter of an hour I had advanced, maybe two or three hundred

paces. My eyes were so accustomed to the dark that the trunks of the

trees were dimly outlined against the background of the night. As I

peered on ahead it seemed that a faint glow of a far off light shone

like a veil through the woods. I halted. It must be my captor who by

some means that I could not puzzle out had lighted a fire.

 

I groped around on the ground until I found a stout stick that would

serve me as a weapon. With this firmly grasped in my hand I grew all the

bolder, so that with less caution than before I went on towards the

place where I was sure there was the light.

 

In another quarter of an hour I was leaning against the trunk of a tree

from which position I could plainly see the blaze. It was in the centre

of an open space in the forest, on bare hard ground covered with stones

and boulders. I wanted to make certain of myself so I moved in a broad

circle around the fire, darting a glance here, a glance there so as not

to be taken by surprise.

 

At length I came back to the point from where I had started. Not a soul

did I notice on my rounds. I walked in closer and closer with the club

balanced ready in my hand. I could feel the heat. The fire blazed and

shot off sparks high into the branches of the trees. Then at last I was

able to spy the form of a man sitting on a rock. He had a long stick

with which he was stirring up the embers. He seemed to be without a care

in the world, but what amazed me most was that he was not naked, as I

expected my captor to be, but fully clothed.

 

From where I was, of course, I saw him only dimly. I watched him for a

long while toying with the fire as idly as a child. Then he rose and

moved towards the left, for the smoke was floating in his face. He must

have been blinded for the moment, for he put his fist in his eyes to rub

them.

 

I was trembling with anxiety. I gave one more glance about in every

direction. Suddenly I noticed a form—the naked figure of a man—crawling

on his hands and knees from out the fringe of woods. He had a club

bigger and heavier than my own, which he pushed before him on the

ground. Like a flash he straightened himself. The man who was fully clad

had his back to him and was still rubbing his eyes. It was my captor,

who now began to run forward like an animal eager to fell its prey. He

lifted the club high over his head. His eyes shone with savage eagerness

in the light of the fire and a grin of victory spread over his

countenance.

 

For a second I was paralyzed with fright. Then I collected myself. I

cast all caution aside and ran likewise out of the woods. Just as the

club was poised in the air ready to fall I called out in a terrified

voice the words, “Look out!”

 

My voice was pitched high and resounded in the silence of the woods like

the crack of a crashing thunderbolt.

 

The man who was clad jumped as though he had been stuck with a spear and

edged off to one side. The club came down. It was a little beside its

mark, but even then it struck the man on the side and knocked the breath

out of him so that he fell in pain to the ground.

 

I had betrayed myself to my captor. He had heard my voice and turned. I

was coming up at full speed with my staff high in the air. I did not

hesitate. With a swinging motion, before he could right himself, I

caught him as hard a blow as I could deal and sent him face down

sprawling in the dirt.

 

I had no time to lose. My captor would soon struggle to his feet. I knew

I was no match for him in a hand-to-hand combat. I would have to have

aid. So I went over to the man whom he had knocked senseless and caught

him by the shoulder. I shook him to bring him the more quickly to his

senses. I turned him over so that I could see his face. Then I let out a

gasp that shook me from my heels to my head. Never in the whole course

of my life was I more amazed for there before me on the ground was the

lad I had come so far to seek, the son of the old Count of Gramont,

Charles!

 

With my heart thumping like a hammer, I did all in my power to bring him

around. I chafed his hands and temples. I took him under the arm-pits

and lifted him to his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was a look

of terror in them first. Then he blinked. It was as though he could

hardly trust his senses. He grasped me by the shoulder. He took in a

deep breath. A smile of recognition played about his face and I knew

that he understood.

 

“Quick!” I whispered, and pointed to my captor who was now raising

himself on one arm.

 

In a second he threw off his stupor. He ran back to the fire and seized

a length of a limb of a tree which he could use as a weapon against his

savage foe.

 

It was none too soon. The fellow had the strength and vitality of an ox.

He scrambled to his feet even while Charles was picking up the stick.

With his big body swinging from side to side he came running with his

arms outstretched like a bear. Charles brought his weapon down. It was a

heavy blow, but the fellow caught it on his arm and it glanced off as

lightly as if it were against the trunk of a tree. Then with a murmur of

hate he rushed in.

 

You may suppose that I was not standing there in idleness. As soon as I

saw what was happening, I wrapped my fist about my club. I knew that the

first blow would be my last. I put every speck of strength in it and

made the aim as accurate as my haste would allow. To my joy I met the

fellow along the crown of the head. The jar of it shot along the bone of

my arm that I thought it was broken. But my victim reeled. His knees

sagged and shook. His mouth opened and his eyes turned upward, showing

all their white. Like a weight that was suddenly let drop he fell in a

heap on the ground.

 

He was as good as dead. I gave a sign to Charles to give me a hand.