‘No!’ I cried. I was desperate now.
‘You will not?’
‘No!’
‘You talk bravely,’ he answered. ‘But I have known men talk as bravely, and whimper and tremble like flogged children five minutes later. Ludwig — ah, there is no fire. Get a bit of thin whip-cord, and twist it round his head with your knife-handle. But first,’ he continued, devouring me with his hard, smiling eyes, ‘call in Taddeo. You will need another man to handle him neatly.’
At the word my blood ran cold with horror, and then burning hot. My gorge rose; I set my teeth and felt all my limbs swell. There was a mist of blood before my eyes, as if the cord were already tight and my brain bursting. I heaved in my bonds and heard them crack and crack. But, alas! they held.
‘Try again!’ he said, sneering at me.
‘You fiend!’ I burst out in a fury. ‘But I defy you. Do your worst, I will balk you yet!’
He looked at me hard. Then he smiled. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘So you think you will beat me. Well, you are an obstinate knave, I know; and I have not much time to spare. Yet I shall beat you. Ludwig,’ he continued, raising his voice, though his smiling eyes did not leave me. ‘Is Taddeo there?’
‘He is coming, general.’
‘Then bid him fetch the girl down! Yes, Master Martin,’ he continued with a ruthless look, ‘we will see. I have a little account against her too. Do not think that I have kept her all this time for nothing. We will put the cord not round your head — you are a stubborn fool, I know — but round hers, my friend. Round her pretty little brow. We will see if that will loosen your tongue.’
The room reeled before my eyes, the lights danced, the men’s faces, some agrin, some darkly watchful, seemed to be looking at me through a mist that dimmed everything. I cried out wild oaths, scarcely knowing what I said, that he would not, that he dared not.
He laughed. ‘You think not, Master Martin?’ he said. ‘Wait until the slut comes. Ludwig has a way of singeing their hands with a lamp — that will afford you, I think, the last amusement you will ever enjoy!’
I knew that he spoke truly, and that he and his like had done things as horrible, as barbarous, a hundred times in the course of this cursed war! I knew that I had nothing to expect from their pity or their scruples. And the frenzy of passion, which for a moment had almost choked me, died down on a sudden, leaving me cold as the coldest there and possessed by one thought only, one hope, one aim — to get my hands free for a moment and kill this man. The boarded windows, the guarded doors, the stern faces round me, the silence of the gloomy house all forbade hope; but revenge remained. Rather than Marie should suffer, rather than that childish frame should be racked by their cruel arts, I would tell all, everything they wanted. But if by any trick or chance I went afterwards free for so much as a second, I would choke him with my naked hands!
I waited, looking at the door, my mind made up. The moments passed like lead. So apparently thought some one else, for suddenly on the silence came an interruption. ‘Is this business going to last all night?’ Neumann burst out impatiently. ‘Hang the man out of hand, if he is to be hanged!’
‘My good friend, revenge is sweet,’ Tzerclas answered, with an ugly smile. ‘These two fooled me a while ago; and I have no mind to be fooled with impunity. But it will not take long. We will singe her a little for his pleasure — he will like to hear her sing — and then we will hang him for her pleasure. After which — —’
‘Do what you like!’ Neumann burst out, interrupting him wrathfully. ‘Only be quick about it. If the girl is here — —’
‘She is coming. She is coming, now,’ Tzerclas answered.
I had gone through so much that my feelings were blunted. I could no longer suffer keenly, and I waited for her appearance with a composure that now surprises me. The door opened, Taddeo came in! looked beyond him, but saw no one else; then I looked at him. The ruffian was trembling. His face was pale. He stammered something.
Tzerclas made but one stride to him. ‘Dolt!’ he cried, ‘what is it?’
‘She is gone!’ the man stuttered.
‘Gone?’
‘Yes, your excellency.’
For an instant Tzerclas stood glaring at him. Then like lightning his hand went lip and his pistol-butt crashed down on the man’s temple. The wretch threw up his arms and fell as if a thunderbolt had struck him — senseless, or lifeless; no one asked which, for his assailant, like a beast half-sated, stood glaring round for a second victim. But Ludwig, who had come down with Taddeo, knew his master, and kept his distance by the door. The other two men shrank behind me.
‘Well?’ Tzerclas cried, as soon as passion allowed him to speak. ‘Are you dumb? Have you lost your tongue? What is it that liar meant?’
‘The girl is away,’ Ludwig muttered. ‘She got out through a window.’
‘Through what window?’
‘The window of my room, under the roof,’ the man answered sullenly. ‘The one — through which that fool came in,’ he continued, nodding towards me.
‘Ah!’ the general cried, his voice hissing with rage. ‘Well, we have still got him. How did she go?’
‘Heaven knows, unless she had wings,’ Ludwig answered. ‘The window is at the top of the house, and there is neither rope nor ladder there, nor foothold for anything but a bird. She is gone, however.’
The general ground his teeth together. ‘There is some cursed treachery here!’ he said.
The Saxon colonel laughed in scorn. ‘Maybe!’ he retorted in a mocking tone, ‘but I will answer for it, that there is something else, and that is cursed mismanagement! I tell you what it is, General Tzerclas,’ he continued fiercely. ‘With your private revenges, and your public plots, and your tame cats who are mad, and your wild cats who have wings — you think yourself a very clever man. But Heaven help those who trust you!’
The general’s eyes sparkled. ‘And those who cross me?’ he cried in a voice that made his men tremble. ‘But there, sir, what ground of complaint have you? The girl never saw you.’
‘No, but that man has seen me!’ Neumann retorted, pointing to me. ‘And who knows how soon she may be back with a regiment at her heels? Then it will be “Save yourselves!” and he will be left to hang me.’
The general laughed without mirth. ‘Have no fear!’ he said. ‘We will hang him out of hand. Ludwig, while we collect these papers, take the other two men and string him up in the hall. When they break in they shall find some one to receive them!’
I had thought that the agony of death was passed; but I suppose that the news of Marie’s escape had awakened my hopes as well as rekindled my love of life; for at these words, I felt my courage run from me like water. I shrank back against the wall, my limbs trembling under me, my heart leaping as if it would burst from my breast. I felt the rope already round my neck, and when the men laid hold on me, I cried out, almost in spite of myself, that I would tell what guns there were in the orchard bastion, that I knew other things, that ——
‘Away with him!’ Tzerclas snarled, stamping his foot passionately. He was already hurrying papers together, and did not give me a glance. ‘String him up, knaves, and see this time that you obey orders. We must be gone, so pull his legs.’
I would have said something more; I would have tried again. Even a minute, a minute’s delay meant hope. But my voice failed me, and they hustled me out. I am no coward, and I had thought myself past fear; but the flesh is weak. At this pinch, when their hands were on me, and I looked round desperately and found no one to whom I could appeal — while hope and rescue might be so near and yet come too late — I shrank. Death in this vile den seemed horrible. My knees trembled; I could scarcely stand.
The hall into which they dragged me was the same dusty, desolate place into which, little foreseeing what would happen there, I had looked over the deaf hag’s shoulder. Ludwig’s candle only half dispersed the darkness which reigned in it. Two of the men held me while he went to and fro with the light raised high above hi
s head.
‘Ha! here it is!’ he said at last. ‘I thought that there was a hook. Bring him here, lads.’
They forced me, resisting feebly, to the place. The candle stood beside him; he was forming a noose. The light, which left all behind them dark, lit up the men’s harsh faces; but I read no pity there, no hope, no relenting; and after a hoarse attempt to bribe them with promises of what my lady would give for my life, I stood waiting. I tried to pray, to think of Marie, of my soul and the future; but my mind was taken up with rage and dread, with the wild revolt against death, and the rush of indignation that would have had me scream like a woman!
On a sudden, out of the darkness grew a fourth face that looked at me, smiling. It was no more softened by ruth or pity than the others were; the laughing eyes mocked me, the lip curled as with a jest. And yet, at sight of it, I gasped. Hope awoke. I tried to speak, I tried to implore his help, I tried But my voice failed me, no words came. The face was the Waldgrave’s.
Yet he nodded as if I had spoken. ‘Yes,’ he said, smiling more broadly, ‘I see, Martin, that you are in trouble. You should have taken my advice in better time. I told you that he would get the better of you.’
Ludwig, who had not seen him before he spoke, dropped the rope, and stood, stupefied, gazing at him. I cried out hoarsely that they were going to hang me.
‘No, no, not as bad as that!’ he said lightly, between jest and earnest. ‘But I gave you fair warning, you know, Martin. Oh, he is — —’
Waldgrave, Waldgrave!’ I panted, trying to get to him; but the men held me back. ‘They will hang me! They will! It is no joke. In God’s name, save me, save me! I saved you once, and — —’
‘Chut, chut!’ he replied easily. ‘Of course I will save you. I will go to the general and arrange it now. Don’t be afraid. My sweet cousin must not lose her steward. Why, you are shaking like an aspen, man. But I told you, did I not? Oh, he is the —— Wait, fellow,’ he continued to Ludwig, ‘until I come back. Where is your master?’
‘Upstairs,’ Ludwig answered sullenly, an ugly gleam in his eyes.
The Waldgrave turned from me carelessly, and went towards the stairs, which were at the end of the hall. Ludwig, as he did so, picked up the rope with a stealthy gesture. I read his mind, and called pitifully to the Waldgrave to stop.
‘They will hang me while you are away,’ I cried. ‘And he is not upstairs! They are lying to you. He is in the room on the left.’
The Waldgrave halted and came back, his handsome face troubled. Ludwig, looking as if he would strike me, swore under his breath.
‘Upstairs, your excellency, upstairs!’ he cried. ‘You will find him there. Why should I — —’
‘Hush!’ one of the other men said, and I felt his grasp on my arm relax. ‘What is that, captain — that noise?’
But Ludwig was intent on the Waldgrave. ‘Upstairs!’ he continued to cry, waving his hand in that direction. ‘I assure you, my lord — —’
‘Steady!’ the man who had cut him short before exclaimed. ‘They are at the door, Ludwig. Listen, man, listen, or we shall be taken like wolves in a trap!’
This time Ludwig condescended to listen, scowling. A noise like that made by a rat gnawing at wood could be heard. My heart beat fast and faster. The man who had given the alarm had released my arm altogether. The other held me carelessly.
With a yell which startled all, I burst suddenly from him and sprang past the Waldgrave. Bound as I was, I had the start and should have been on the stairs in another second, when, with a crash and a blinding glare, a shock, which loosened the very foundations of the house, flung me on my face.
I lay a moment, gasping for breath, wondering where I was hurt. Out of the darkness round me came a medley of groans and shrieks. The air was full of choking smoke, through which a red glare presently shone, and grew gradually brighter. I could see little, understand less of what was happening; but I heard shots and oaths, and once a rush of charging feet passed over me.
After that, growing more sensible, I tried to rise, but a weight lay on my legs — my arms were still tied — and I sank again. I took the fancy then that the house was on fire and that I should be burned alive; but before I had more than tasted the horror of the thought, a crowd of men came round me, and rough hands plucked me up.
‘Here is another of them!’ a voice cried. ‘Have him out! To the churchyard with him! The trees will have a fine crop!’
‘Halloa! he is tied up already!’ a second chimed in.
I gazed round stupidly, meeting everywhere vengeful looks and savage faces.
A butcher, with his axe on his shoulder, hauled at me. ‘Bring him along!’ he shouted. ‘This way, friends! Hurry him. To the churchyard!’
My wits were still wool-gathering, and I should have gone quietly; but a man pushed his way to the front and looked at me. ‘Stop! stop!’ he cried in a voice of authority. ‘This is a friend. This is the man who got in by the roof. Cut the ropes, will you? See how his hands are swollen. That is better. Bring him out into the air. He will revive.’
The speaker was Herr Krapp. In a moment a dozen friendly arms lifted me up and carried me through the crowd, and set me down in the little court. The cool night air swept my brow. I looked up and saw the stars shining in the quiet heaven, and I leant against the wall, sobbing like a woman.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE END OF THE DAY.
Ludwig was found dead in the hall, slain on the spot by the explosion of the petard which had driven in the door. His two comrades, less fortunate, were taken alive, and, with the hag who kept the house, were hanged within the hour on the elms in St. Austin’s churchyard. The Waldgrave and Neumann, both wounded, the former by the explosion and the latter in his desperate resistance, were captured and held for trial. But Tzerclas, the chief of all, arch-tempter and arch-traitor, vanished in the confusion of the assault, and made his escape, no one knew how. Some said that he went by way of a secret passage known only to himself; some, that he had a compact with the devil, and vanished by his aid; some, that he had friends in the crowd who sheltered him. For my part, I set down his disappearance to his own cool wits and iron nerves, and asked no further explanation.
For an hour the little dark court behind the ill-omened house seethed with a furious mob. No sooner were one party satisfied than another swept in with links and torches and ransacked the house, tore down the panels, groped through the cellars, and probed the chimneys; all with so much rage, and with gestures so wild and extravagant, that an indifferent spectator might have thought them mad. Nor were those who did these things of the lowest class; on the contrary, they were mostly burghers and traders, solid townsfolk and their apprentices, men who, with wives and daughters and sweethearts, could not sleep at night for thoughts of storm and sack, and in whom the bare idea that they had amongst them wretches ready to open the gates, was enough to kindle every fierce and cruel passion.
I stood for a time unnoticed, gazing at the scene in a kind of stupor, which the noise and tumult aggravated. Little by little, however, the cool air did its work; memory and reason began to return, and, with anxiety awaking in my breast, I looked round for Herr Krapp. Presently I saw him coming towards me with a leather flask in his hand.
‘Drink some of this,’ he said, looking at me keenly. ‘Why so wild, man?’
‘The girl?’ I stammered. I had not spoken before since my release, and my voice sounded strange and unnatural.
‘She is safe,’ he answered, nodding kindly. ‘I was at my window when she swung herself on to the roof by the rope which you left hanging. Donner! you may be proud of her! But she was distraught, or she would not have tried such a feat. She must inevitably have fallen if I had not seen her. I called out to her to stand still and hold fast; and my son, who had come upstairs, ran down for a twelve-foot pike. We thrust that out to her, and, holding it, she tottered along the pike to my window, where I caught her skirts, and we dragged her in in a moment.’
I shuddered
, remembering how I had suffered, hanging above the yawning street. ‘I suppose that it was she who warned you and sent you here?’ I said.
‘No,’ he answered. ‘This house had been watched for two days, though I did not tell you so. We had been suspicious of it for a week or more, or I should not have helped you into a neighbour’s house as I did. However, all is well that ends well; and though we have not got that bloodthirsty villain to hang, we have stopped his plans for this time.’
He was just proposing that, if I now felt able, I should return to my lady’s, when a rush of people from the house almost carried me off my feet. In a moment we were pushed aside and squeezed against the wall. A hoarse yell, like the cry of a wild beast, rose from the crowd, a hundred hands were brandished in the air, weapons appeared as if by magic. The glare of torches, falling on the raging sea of men, picked out here and there a scared face, a wandering eye; but for the most part the mob seemed to feel only one passion — the thirst for blood.
‘What is it?’ I shouted in Herr Krapp’s ear.
‘The prisoners,’ he answered. ‘They are bringing them out. Your friend the Waldgrave, and the other. They will need a guard.’
And truly it was a grim thing to see men make at them, striking over the shoulders of the guard, leaping at them wolf-like, with burning eyes and gnashing teeth, striving to tear them with naked hands. Down the narrow passage to the churchyard the soldiers had an easy task; but in the open graveyard, whither Herr Krapp and I followed slowly, the party were flung this way and that, and tossed to and fro — though they were strong men, armed, and numbered three or four score — like a cork floating on rapids. Their way lay through the Ritter Strasse, and I went with them so far. Though it was midnight, the town, easily roused from its feverish sleep, was up and waking. Scared faces looked from windows, from eaves, from the very roofs. Men who had snatched up their arms and left their clothes peered from doorways. The roar of the mob, as it swayed through narrow ways, rose and fell by turns, now loud as the booming of cavern-waves, now so low that it left the air quivering.
Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman Page 157
