The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of France

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  THE WAR-CRY.

  The whistle in front and the sound of following horsemen had but onemeaning for Denis, and that was danger; and there was a movement commonto nearly everyone in bygone days when danger was afoot, and that was tothrow the right hand across the body in search of the hilt of the swordwith which every traveller was armed.

  It was involuntary then that, upon hearing the whistle and the tramplinghoofs, Denis tried to draw his sword, but only uttered a faint cry ofpain, for nerve and muscle had during the past few hours stiffened andmade him more helpless than before, so that his arm sank back into itssling, but with the hand sufficiently free to receive the reins, whichhe passed across, thus leaving his left hand at liberty for his dagger.

  "Hah!" said the King. "They are not fools. They have chosen a likelyplace for their trap, and we have walked right in. Well, gentlemen, wedon't surrender. Which is it to be--retreat or advance?"

  "Advance!" cried the young men, in one breath, excitedly, and it soundedlike one voice.

  "Draw, then, and forward," cried the King. "You, Saint Simon, guardDenis on the left; I shall have the honour of forming his right flank.But no desultory fighting. We advance and keep together as one man withone aim--to pass through the enemy, however many they may be. Forward!"

  Denis writhed at his helplessness, as in obedience to a touch of thespur the three horses sprang forward, kept in the centre of the darkroad, and broke at once into a hand gallop; and for some fifty yards theway seemed perfectly clear.

  Then all at once the route was barred by a number of men who sprang fromeach side, yelling and shouting, while from behind the trampling ofhorses came nearer, and the advance was checked; for apparently withreckless bravery men rushed out of the darkness to seize the horsemen'sreins, with the result that the King struck at the nearest a downwardblow with the hilt of his sword, which took effect full in the man'sface, so that he sank with a groan, while, drawing back his arm, theKing's second movement was to give point, running the next man throughthe shoulder, and he fell back.

  Saint Simon's actions were much the same, but in reverse, for he thrustfirst, and equally successfully; while Denis sat supine, the feelingupon him strong that he was a helpless heavy log to his companions, andin their way.

  So successful was the resistance to the attack that for the moment theway seemed open, and the boy's breast began to throb with excitement ashe felt that they had won. But they had only dealt with four, and asthey were urging on their horses once again at least a dozen were readyto stay their progress, while with a loud shout of triumph four mountedmen came up in their rear to hem the trio in.

  "Give point! Give point!" roared the King, setting the example, andevery thrust seemed to tell; but where one enemy went down there seemedto be three or four more to take his place, and in the darkness therewas a _melee_ of writhing, struggling men hanging on to the panting,snorting horses and regardless of the keen steel, striving to drag thewielders down.

  "It's all over with us," thought Denis, and a chill of despair seemed toclutch his heart, as he rose in his stirrups and, dagger in hand,strove, but in vain, to give some aid to his two defenders, who weregrowing breathless with their exertions and hampered and overpowered bytheir foes.

  The horses, too, were becoming frantic, and reared and plunged, greatlyto the riders' disadvantage, but advantage too, for more than one of theassailants fell back from the blows struck by their hoofs, to betrampled the next moment under foot; and then amidst yells, threats, andsavage cries, there was a fresh shout of triumph, for on either side thedefenders' arms were held, and but for the way in which the well-trainedhorses pressed together, both the King and Saint Simon would have beenpulled from their saddles.

  Just at this crucial moment, in the midst of the lull which followed thetriumphal yell, there was the loud trampling of hoofs upon the hard roadin front, the shouting of a war-cry--"France! France!"--seemed to cutthrough the darkness, and with a rush a single horseman looking like adark shadow dashed down upon the group, scattering, so to speak, withwondrous rapidity a perfect shower of thrusts, making those who pinionedKing and courtier fall back, some in surprise and dread, others in agonyor in death, leaving their prisoners at liberty to assume the offensiveonce again and aid their new supporter in his gallant efforts upon theirbehalf.

  "Right!" he shouted, in a strange shrill voice. "About at once! Now,all together, charge!" And, taking advantage of the temporaryastonishment of the enemy, the new-comer ranged himself by the King'sside, and all setting spurs to their horses, the brave beasts shookthemselves free from those who grasped their reins, and together brokeinto a gallop, trampling down and driving to the right and left thosewho, half-hearted now, held fast and strove to stop their way.

  The attempt was vain, and away the little party went along the dim,shadowy road for about a hundred yards, when the stranger's voice roseabove the trampling hoofs in the order to halt and turn, followed by alouder command to charge back once more.

  They needed no urging on the part of the riders, for the horses, excitednow to the fullest extent, recognised the orders, and broke into agallop once again, dashing back over the ground they had just traversedtowards where men were gathering together in obedience to excited voicesand preparing to once more stop their way. For the danger was not yetover; the first charge had driven the horsemen, who had so far not beenseen but heard, into a headlong flight; but at the halt they had ralliedagain, and as the gallant little band of four had turned for theirsecond charge were coming on in full pursuit.

  "Gallop!" yelled their new ally, and even in the wild excitement ofthose few moments, while he seemed borne here and there like theprisoner of his friends, the only help given being by the weight of hishorse, Denis fell to wondering who the gallant Englishman could be thathad come so opportunely to their aid; for there was a something notfamiliar in the tones which, trumpet-like, gave forth their orders, butsomehow strange in the way in which they seemed to raise echoes in hisbrain.

  "Gallop!" he yelled again. "France! France!" And like a flash thequestion darted through the boy's brain, why should he use thebattle-cry of France?

  Momentary all this as, before reaching the little, dimly seen crowd thatonce more barred the way, the chargers attained their fullest speed; andthen there were a few slight shocks as man after man went down in theirhalf-hearted resistance, and the rest were scattered, the little line ofhorsemen passing through them, driving them here and there, and chargingon in their headlong gallop forward beneath the overhanging trees whichsuddenly ceased to darken their way, for the gallant band had passed outinto the full bright moonlight once again, and the sound of pursuit bythe enemy's mounted men had died away.