The Messenger of the Black Prince 27

The Messenger of the Black Prince 27

A light shone in my eyes. It was not bright, but the unexpectedness of

it made it seem like a flash. As soon as my eyes grew accustomed to it,

I saw that it was only a small fire burning in a grate in the far end of

the cave. There was no smoke. By some means or other a draught drew it

upwards through the irregular crevices in the ceiling. I put one foot in

the room and gazed around. It was as large as the common room in an inn,

but scrupulously clean and neat. The floor, which was as smooth as you

could wish, was covered with new straw that cracked with dryness as my

foot touched it. On the walls were pegs driven in between the stones and

from them were hung at least a dozen bows while the quivers filled with

arrows stood beneath.

 

Charles grasped me by the arm.

 

“Let’s get away,” he whispered. “We’ve come upon a thieves’ den.”

 

“If we could lay our hands, each of us, on a bow and a quiver of

arrows,” I said, “we wouldn’t have to run so fast from our enemies.”

 

“And that’s right,” he agreed. With that he gave me a shove forward.

 

I went quietly across the floor with Charles at my heels. It was one

step at a time with our eyes always turning towards the door. The warmth

of the place lured me. If I had had my own way, I would have thrown

myself down upon the floor before the fire and have given rest to my

weary legs. As it was, Charles was reaching out for a bow and I had my

hand already on another when a voice shot through my ears like the blast

of a trumpet.

 

“Gentlemen,” it said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been expecting you!”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXI

THE DEFENSE OF THE CAVE

 

 

We turned. Before us stood a man so small that he might be taken for a

dwarf. His head was so large that it was remarkable, and the way it

rolled from side to side caused me a certain uneasiness. His eyes were

the size of two peas, but they twinkled with a kind of knowing wisdom

that continually forced you to look away and in the next moment to

return and gaze at him again. A smile covered his mouth, but it was a

smile that never changed. You could not tell whether it came from

amusement or whether mockery lay behind it. We had hardly caught our

breath when he shifted over to us. It was then that I noticed for the

first time that his legs were bent in an arch like a bow. They seemed

very thin, scarcely able to support the weight of his thick body.

 

He took off his cap and drew his head in between his shoulders like a

turtle.

 

“I have been on the look-out for you the last three days,” he said.

“Where have you been?”

 

I said not a word but glanced at Charles.

 

“Who are you?” he gasped, “—friend or enemy?”

 

“I am the Dwarf of Angers,” was the reply. He hesitated. The smile

broadened into a wicked grin. “If I were your enemy,” he went on, “you

would have been dead long before this.”

 

“You say you have been expecting us——,” I began, but he broke in and

interrupted me.

 

“You are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said in the most matter

of fact way. “He heard that you were threatened with danger. I came to

see you through.”

 

I drew back in surprise. My first impulse was to tell him that I had

never seen the Abbot of Chalonnes in my life. On second thought, I

decided to let him believe as he would.

 

“We are surrounded by at least a score of men,” I said with some

caution. “They are French—followers of a man by the name of De Marsac.

The three of us can hardly make a stand against them. They are too

many.”

 

A little cackle of laughter broke from him. He went to the corner of the

room where a basket stood. He took from it an apple that was as large as

your fist. He stretched out his hand and laid the apple between the

middle finger and the forefinger. He extended his arm to full length and

slowly drew his fingers together. There came a crushing sound. Then with

as much force as if it were struck by a hammer the apple flew apart. One

half of it shot over against the wall and the other dropped a little

distance from his feet.

 

My mouth opened in amazement. Such a feat of strength I never believed

possible.

 

“There has never lived a man with hands and arms like these,” he said.

“Nature gave me a misshapen body. But she made up for it in another

way.” He jumped back and turned to the wall. With a leap as quick as

lightning he came towards us, turning one somersault after the other.

Not once did his hands touch the floor nor, when he came to a halt, did

he draw a single breath that gave a sign of fatigue.

 

“I can draw a bow that would drive an archer to despair,” he explained.

“I never weary. I can go on and on till they drop. I am all hands and

arms.” He stopped and looked up at us. The same smile covered his face,

only now he opened his lips far enough to show us a line of ugly twisted

teeth.

 

“Can you shoot?” he then demanded with a sudden burst.

 

“A little,” we stammered, “—but not like you, I am sure.”

 

He cackled again.

 

“A little is enough,” he said. “Come!” He spun on his heel and went over

to where we had first seen the bows suspended on the wall. “Take this,”

he said to Charles. “—and you take this. There’ll be a merry time in the

woods before the setting of the sun.”

 

With that he handed each of us a bow and a quiver of finely made arrows.

As though he were the leader of an army, he marched proudly to the door.

He swung it open and with a bow stood like a soldier at attention till

we filed out.

 

We were once more among the rocks and stones—and the trees of the

forest. It was light, but the rays of the sun shone only here and there

in long threads where the breeze for a time drove the branches apart.

 

We went on stealthily. We kept our bodies low so that if a chance shot

were fired at us, it might pass over our heads. I got as far as the row

of boulders that, I have said, was like an irregular stone wall. I was

on the verge of straightening myself to look further into the woods when

an arrow sang past me and struck with a click against the cave.

 

In the next moment a shriek echoed through the woods. Far off in the

shadows of the trees I saw, faintly, of course, a man throw his arms

into the air and pitch forward on his face. Before I could recover from

my astonishment another ran to lift him to his feet. He had hardly

stooped when a shaft easily a yard long pierced his side and he, too,

fell forward over his companion.

 

For a second I was set wondering. I looked around to see if the Dwarf

was at our backs. He was nowhere to be seen. Then I was certain that he

had gone out among the trees. It was he who had shot the men who were

lying there on the ground. I heard a branch over my head crack and saw

it bend. A form twisted itself around and dropped quickly to the earth.

Before I could wink, the Dwarf was standing between us with the grin

stretching from ear to ear. His face was glowing with excitement.

 

“Did you see them fall?” he cried, and took me by the coat. “Could an

archer have reached them at that distance?”

 

“I never thought that an arrow could carry so far,” said Charles.

 

The Dwarf bent over and clapped himself on the knee.

 

“—and neither it did!” he exclaimed. “The arrows I shot didn’t travel a

hundred feet. I was up there in the trees—almost over their heads. I

shot down upon them. These arms did that—these strong arms of mine!”

 

I understood.

 

“You mean that you climbed from one tree to the other?” I asked. “You

worked your way from branch to——?”

 

For an answer he reached up and took hold of the branch from which he

had just dropped. He lowered his body as far as he could. Then with a

spring as light as a monkey’s he shot into the air. He twisted his small

legs, curling them with the suppleness of a snake. His body swung

forward. He took another hold. He swung forward again. There was no

strain nor gasping for breath. With a litheness that I had never judged

possible he squirmed and swung himself, till in a short time he had

completely disappeared among the trees.

 

I looked at Charles and shook my head. We stood there forgetful of our

enemies in utter amazement at the Dwarf’s agility. Then without a

warning an arrow came darting through the air and dug its point deep

into the ground at our feet.

 

We jumped back and dodged behind a rock. We held our bows in readiness

for an attack, with our eyes dancing anxiously in every direction.

 

Then came a sharp, cackling laugh from over our heads. The branches

swayed and the Dwarf dropped nimbly to the earth. He swung the bow which

he held in his hand with a kind of childish pride and said, “I could

have killed you both! The one arrow would have done it, for you were

standing in a straight line!” He puffed himself out and strutted back

and forth. “Nature has given me a crooked body,” he went on, “but I’m

worth a dozen perfect men.”

 

It began to dawn on me that the Dwarf was a bit of a fool. He was

deformed, of course, but his imagination had played on him so that he