Kitabı oku: «Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch», sayfa 12
XXIII
NOBLESSE OBLIGE
"Marie, you are to go with the first detachment. You, Therese, with the second. Your mistress will ride with the gentlemen of her household."
Clad in the Duchess's clothes, as they had volunteered devotedly, the better to throw off pursuit from Her Grace, the maids with many tearful protestations of undying loyalty took their allotted places in the cavalcade which was forming in the courtyard of the castle.
"First section," rang out the preliminary command, "draw sabres. By fours, left. March. Trot," and the first of the forlorn hope was started. The troops swung by the little group which held Trusia in its centre. As the head of the scanty column came abreast of where she sat in her saddle, the lieutenant, Casimir, turned on his horse, his voice husky with emotion, to give a command. "Present sabres," he cried, and a score of blades were pointed heavenward, perhaps for the last time for the royal house of Schallberg. Something caught in Trusia's throat as the gallant band swept by to challenge Death that she might live.
After these had turned into the narrow incline, Marie in their midst, the second detachment followed, gravely saluting their loved liege lady.
Swords in hand, then, came the grave-faced men who had borne her hopes for Krovitch in their hearts. Courageous as any knights of old, their faces betrayed what an awful price they considered this flight to be. Alone, they would have preferred to have fought it out to the last drop of blood in their veins, but had yielded to the expedient because the girl's safety was dearer to them than their most cherished wish. At the foot of the declivity, the entire force reunited before finally debouching into the road.
"Should our party be attacked," suggested Sobieska, "it is imperative that Her Grace should be hurried right on to the frontier without awaiting the issue of the combat. Some one must accompany her. Will Your Highness choose?" he turned to her with a deep bow, a wistful light glowing in his cynical eyes.
"If Major Carter will accompany me," she said almost timidly, "I will select him." The others pressed forward to wring his hand in silence.
"We are ready, Lieutenant Casimir, advance your men," cried Sutphen.
"Columns of eights. First section to the right, second section to the left. March. Trot. Gallop," rang out the commands, as, with their last cheer for Krovitch, the troopers dashed into the highway to clear the space for Trusia. A wild confusion of sounds apprised those waiting that at least one party had engaged adversaries.
"Now," shouted Carter rising in his stirrups. With an involuntary cheer, they bolted for the cover of the woods across the road. They beheld Casimir's little band hotly engaged with an entire troop of cavalry, but it was stubbornly, unyieldingly, holding the Cossacks back. On the left the remaining squad merely awaited the passing of the Duchess to go to their comrades' assistance.
With such speed as the underbrush and rough ground would permit, the court party, headed by the white-haired Sutphen, plunged onward to the lane which led to the charcoal burner's hut. They were soon beyond even the sounds of the conflict. Carter, riding at Trusia's right, saw the tears gathering for the devoted heroes they had deserted of such cruel necessity.
They swept into the narrow lane and reached the crest of that little hill where sudden sorrow had made mock of sudden joy. Coming toward them, as if apprised of their neighborhood, they saw a squadron of Russian cavalry numerically overwhelming. Both parties stopped for the breathing space preliminary to the death grip.
"We cannot turn back. We'll have to fight, gentlemen," said the fleshy Treasurer. "Who knows," he said with a quaint smile, "it may reduce my flesh." He turned back his sleeve very deliberately and carefully until his arm was bare to the elbow. Drawing his sword, he securely fastened the thong on the hilt about his wrist that no matter how fierce the mêlée, he would not be disarmed. Delmotte imitated his example. Giving the blade a preparatory swing, the doughty Treasurer settled back in his saddle with a sigh of anticipation.
Zulka and Sobieska rode back to Trusia.
"Just for 'Auf wiedersehn,'" they said smilingly. Trusia held out her hands to them with sweet impulsiveness. In turn they took them and carried them to their lips. Sobieska turned to Carter for a parting word. "The charcoal burner is loyal. He can hide you by day and guide you by night. None knows better all the byways and secret paths in the forests. By to-morrow evening you should be safe in Austria. Good-bye, Highness," he said, turning to Her Grace. "God bring you safe through." His voice was hoarse with repression.
"Good luck, Carter," said Zulka, and turned away as he spoke.
Bustling good-naturedly in the very jaws of danger, Muhlen-Sarkey made his adieux with no ruffle disturbing his customary urbanity. "Sorry we can't have your help," he remarked to Carter; "you have the place of honor, though. No need to caution you. Go now. Go quickly."
"Wait," said Trusia, holding up a denying hand. "See, they are sending out a single rider around our flank." A courier detaching himself from the main body of their foes could be seen making his way past their line through the wilderness.
"To report that the quarry has been run to earth." Carter gathered up his reins grimly as he spoke. "Come, Highness," he said to the girl who was lost in some sad dream.
"I do not wish to leave them. It seems so heartless," she burst forth. Then she turned to him appealingly as to that one who must henceforth order all things for her guidance. "Let me stay," she begged, "I can die like a Krovitzer."
"For you to fall into their hands, sweetheart," he whispered, "might mean worse than death. Would you leave such a reproach to haunt the survivors? The enemy is already approaching; come." His insistent hand was at her bridle and compelled her compliance.
The Krovitzers, with high-bred courage, spurred forward to meet their opponents, scorning to await the attack of even such superior numbers.
"For Trusia!" they shouted, and then, "For Krovitch!" as they engaged with a crash which halted the fugitives by its vehemence.
"A short life and a merry one, a stout blade and a noble one," they heard Muhlen-Sarkey shout as he lunged forward with a laugh into the thickest of the fray. At the first onslaught they saw Delmotte fall apparently dead. Carter drew the girl away from the sight of further carnage.
"He has proven himself a gallant gentleman," said Carter for her comfort, as once more they entered the protection of the patriarchal trees.
XXIV
STOLEN SLEEP
Caution is slow-footed. It was already night when they drew in sight of the little blur of lamp-light in the charcoal burner's window. The girl at Carter's side straightened herself briskly in her saddle and gave an involuntary sigh of relief.
They had neither time to hail him nor a chance to dismount, before the bearded face of the occupant appeared in the doorway, which he cautiously closed behind him. He held up a warning finger. Approaching Trusia's side, he uncovered his head and humbly lifting her skirt's edge kissed its hem. He spoke in a tone too low for Carter's ear, but Trusia, turning, conveyed to her escort the substance of his remarks.
"He says that he already has guests – uninvited ones – in his home. A Cossack picket has been quartered upon him. At present they are asleep. He learned of our possible fate from them, and waited at the window, watching for such chance stragglers as might escape. He offers to guide us to a cave, which Krovitzers deserting from the Russian army have been accustomed to make their refuge against pursuit. We can lie safely hid there to-night and to-morrow he will guide us to the Vistula. Or, if we would rather, he will immediately lead us to a path which if we follow should bring us to the riverside by dawn. Which shall it be, Calvert?" He was stirred to the depths of his nature by her unreserved trust in him.
"Can you stand the longer journey?" he asked anxiously.
"Yes, with you," she replied gently.
"Let us push on, then," he suggested. "We cannot put too many miles between us and pursuit. Tell him, though, to bring some food and at least one blanket for you."
Upon learning her decision the faithful fellow disappeared into the cabin, from which he presently emerged carrying two parcels which he handed to Carter. Cautioning them to follow as silently as might be, he plunged without further comment into the darkest shadows about them, which, upon their nearer approach, disclosed a tiny footpath in which they found it impossible for them to ride abreast. The peasant, with the lantern which he had lit when well out of sight of the hut, was plodding silently ahead, so Carter dropped back, keeping both eyes and ears open for any sight or sounds that might warn him of the neighborhood of strangers. The path grew each moment wilder and more impassable for equestrians. The low branches of the trees more than once whipped their faces. Three times did Trusia's horse stumble over some projecting root directly in their route. After the eternity it takes to cover five miles on an unknown road in chaotic darkness, the charcoal burner turned to his princess.
"From now on, Highness," he said with an apologetic gesture, "the road is too narrow for horses."
She turned to Carter, awaiting his decision. It was an odd picture they made. He could not but note it. The peasant held his lantern on a level with his shaggy head which alternated in deep shadows and high lights. About them, within the zone of its rays, the huge trunks of trees stood out on every side, their tops lost in the surrounding darkness. Before him, but partially revealed by the illumination, sat the girl upon her horse, her head turned to him with an expression emphasized by the encircling gloom.
"Well?" she asked, recalling him from his observations.
"We'll have to abandon them," he answered, dismounting and reluctantly helping her to the ground. When Trusia offered the horses to Hans, he refused, saying that their possession might lead to the pursuit of the fugitives.
Trusia fondly drew the satiny muzzle of her own steed down to her cheek.
"I hate to do it, Saladin," she murmured chokingly, "but I have to; you understand, dear horse." She kissed the soft nose that was resting affectionately on her shoulder. "You will have to drive him away, Calvert," she said turning to the man at her side, "I cannot." The steed seemed to comprehend, for with a whinny that was almost a sigh, he coaxingly nozzled her hand and rubbed his shapely head against her arm.
"Good-bye, Saladin," she cried wistfully, as in obedience to a sharp smack on their flanks, the horses trotted off into the thicket and were swallowed up in the gloom.
Hour after hour Carter and Trusia, led by Hans, trudged ahead, silently advancing upon the wall of darkness ever facing them. Their reflections were absorbing them and each respected the sanctity of the other's thoughts. After the second five miles had been accomplished, they suddenly came upon a clear space under the unveiled splendor of the stars. At their feet, reflecting the glory of the heavens, bubbled a forest spring. Hans dropped at Trusia's feet, and catching her hand, mumbled some grief-hampered words.
"He must go back now," she explained to Carter. "He says our way is plain from here on. We are to follow this path until daylight. By then we should reach a similar clearing, where his brother, Carl, has his ovens. There we can get shelter. When we have had sufficient rest, Carl will guide us to the frontier. That last part of the road Hans does not know. Once at the river, he says, there is a ferry, used by peasants, which will take us across to Austria."
"Why must he go?" Carter inquired, his every suspicion aroused for the woman he loved.
"Should he be missing in the morning from his hut, the soldiers would guess the reason for his absence. His wife and infant would probably pay for his loyalty with their lives."
"And this Carl, how can he vouch for his loyalty?" Carter persisted.
"I know Carl," said the girl sweetly. That was enough.
The peasant stood to one side as the pair passed him. One glance into the honest eyes was sufficient to convince Carter that the man had spoken the truth.
Soon nothing could be seen of the shadowy figure on the forest edge which stood watching until darkness swallowed the form of his beloved suzerain. Side by side again, the two persisted along the starlit way of their hopes, until they, too, entered another forest beyond. Here, though aided by the lantern Hans had left with them, they lost the narrow lane a score of times; disuse had made it almost invisible.
At last, gray with mourning, the tardy day awoke. With heavy limbs and straining eyes, they stumbled at last into view of the promised haven of thatch.
A premonition of something amiss caused Carter to pause as they hastened toward it. The door, unlatched, swung open desolately upon creaking hinges. No smoke beckoned from its chimneys, no sign of personality bade them draw near. Trusia choked back the sob as she clung heavily to Carter's arm.
"It is empty," she prophesied.
"The fellow is about some place, doubtless," Carter answered cheerfully, that she might not be panic-stricken by his acquiescence. "You stay here. I'll scout about a bit, – and find him," he added as an afterthought. Leaving both his pack and revolver with her, he approached the house with the same caution he would have displayed in routing out a grizzly bear.
In the tiny enclosure in front of the cabin, he found the disturbing evidence of the visitation of a number of horses in the marred and furrowed soil of the garden, torn by a score of hoofs. Cossacks had been here. He paused, with straining ears, by the door, listening for some portent from within. No sound gave him a clue as to the situation inside the single room which made up the peasant home. He entered boldly.
Trusia's heart pounded in lonely centuries, it seemed, as she prayed fervently for his reappearance. Presently, staggering beneath a burden of suggestive shape, Carter came out and took his way to the dense underbrush behind the cabin. He returned to the hut for a spade and pick and went back to the underbrush. His absence seemed interminable. Then, with blistered hands, he stepped out of the thicket at her side.
"What was it? What kept you so long?" she asked, startled by his sudden appearance and petulant with exhaustion.
"Don't ask me, sweet," he begged, "but come and rest for an hour or so. I'll be the sentry at your gate."
"But the Cossacks may come," she hesitated.
"Lightning never strikes twice in the same place," he assured with a grim meaning for himself in the words. "Come, the coast is clear."
"But that you carried," she held back as the doubt arose, for she had seen.
"Without benefit of clergy, poor fellow," he replied seeing that it was too late to deceive her. "I hoped you wouldn't notice."
Gently he urged her to the hut. Freshening the pallet with twigs and leaves, he spread the double blanket they had brought upon the bed and then withdrew to mount guard while she might snatch some rest.
With his back against the wall, seated on a rude bench outside the cabin, he watched the heavy-eyed sun arise and yawn. Once from the cabin a sigh floated.
"Rest well, sweetheart," he called. "Our flight has just commenced."
XXV
THEY MEET JOSEF
He dared not sleep. Thousands of aching demons in his weary limbs promised him surcease if he would. Every stir in nature, each drowsy twitter of the birds, coaxed him to relax his watchfulness, but he resisted. Time seemed a paralytic as Carter waited the passing of the day. A score of times his head bent forward in weariness. He could feel pain pass from him like a sigh, only to be called back as in reaction he would jerk his head up to wakefulness.
Slumber reigned indoors. As the hours dragged on, it seemed to the watchful lover that something was surely wrong. He had heard no sound, no stir, no sigh, for an age of patience. Half ashamed of his own boldness, he tiptoed in to where she lay. Her face was pale with languor; no breath appeared to stir her breast. With a great leap his mind went back, fearing, to that scene by the roadside as she lay fainting in his arms. He reached out and touched her wrist. Again he gave thanks that, beneath his finger, life flowed serenely in its course.
He turned and went back to his seat on the bench. He counted time now by the throbbing of his nerves. The sun passed its zenith, began to droop; still Trusia slept and Carter kept a sleepless vigil. Great and red, in the west, the sun was setting as the girl came out and laid a soft, comforting hand upon his shoulder.
"I have been selfish, Calvert," she said in self-accusation. "I should have let you rest first. You have had the greater labor and worriment. We will eat something now, then I shall watch while you sleep."
"I am not tired," he protested, yawning as he spoke. "Even though I have not slept I have dreamed – of you." He marveled at the mystery which bade a rose pink creep into a girl's cheek and pass and come again.
The simple food provided by Hans was a delectable feast to the wayworn pair, who appreciated it down to the last allotted crumb.
After the final morsel had disappeared, they quietly conversed, but while they talked, Carter's head lurched forward and he was asleep. Sweetly, with the maternal impulse found even in maidens, she drew the heavy head to her and smiled happily at its weight upon her breast. She bent forward to listen, for sweetened in the dream he held, she heard her name whispered in adoration.
The shadows were creeping upon them. Evening had drawn the curtain across reluctant day. In the dusk, sinister figures appeared to crouch and creep by every bush and tree. Inevitable as darkness it seemed, they gathered from every side. Her fright numbered them as a myriad. They were three. Unwilling in her solicitude to disturb her sleeping lover until the last moment, she drew her revolver. Then with chilling misgivings she realized that these men had followed the path used by herself and Carter.
Some acute sympathy – maybe his dreams, maybe a prescience which never slumbers – awoke Carter with a full realization of the imminent danger which threatened.
"Come," he said, arising to his full height, "you must go in." He pushed her through the door and stood in the narrow entrance, awaiting the onslaught. "They outnumber me," he laughed, "but it is a dark night. That reduces the odds. You see, sweetheart, that while in the gloom they may hit friends, yet if it comes to sword play I can't possibly hit any one else but them." He actually chuckled as he rolled back the sleeve on his right arm. "They won't use pistols unless I do, for they don't know how near we are to reinforcements. Neither do we for that matter," and he smiled again. "Have you that revolver?" he inquired, quite serious this time. "No, I don't want it," he said as she held it out to him. "You know what to do with it if the time comes."
They had not long to wait. Their opponents, confident of success, came rapidly forward. One figure was familiar even in the gloom. It was Josef. With a leap the trio were upon Carter. He felt the impact of their blades like pulse beats in the darkness as they met his own steel. As weapon met weapon in clanging song his spirits arose. He wanted to chant to the dainty, cruel rhythm of the tempered strokes. He knew on the instant that he should vanquish these foes. Muscle after muscle, sinew after sinew, thickened and grew lean alternately as thrust followed guard. His body, moving with his arm, seemed following some primitive dance – the orgy of the Sword, the prince of battle weapons.
He heard a smothered gasp in the darkness, succeeded by a curse in a familiar voice.
"You, Josef?" he queried with a satisfied laugh.
"Not yet, m'sieu the American," came back the sneering answer. "You first," it taunted, just beyond Carter's reach in the gloom. The remark was followed by a slight touch in the shoulder from which the warm blood spouted as the keen point was withdrawn.
"Not quite low enough for me, Josef," answered Carter. "That was only a scratch. Try a ripost. I don't intend to wound you. I am going to kill you."
"You'll have no chance. We are three and we will carry off the Lady Trusia. She'll be a dainty bit for our feasting." A sob behind him apprised him that she had heard.
"Cur," Carter cried, and drove straight for the neck he knew held a smirking face. With the slipping of Carter's foot, Josef escaped death at the price of a companion's life, behind whom Josef had escaped Carter's vengeance. The American, hearing the suggestive thud in the darkness, pushed his advantage, with the result that soon an angry snarl told him that the second Russian was wounded. The fellow dropped his sword to clasp his right wrist, then fled, closely followed by the discreet servitor. When Calvert had recovered his balance, the Gray Man had disappeared.
"There is no time to lose," he called to Trusia, "we must start at once before that old rascal brings reinforcements." Though he jestingly belittled its importance, she insisted upon bandaging the wound in his shoulder and made much of him, womanlike.
"I do not care if they should send a dozen men," she said, dazzling the gloom with her eyes; "my king, my lover, could defeat them all!" He dared not kiss her, then, as they both would have wished. Her isolation made her holy.
"That," he said, pointing southwardly, "is our general direction. Fate must guide our steps."
