“You must lie down again,” Strangwayes ordered; but as he was stretched on his back Hugh caught his friend’s sleeve. “You must tell me,” he repeated. “Dick, I did not—kill him?”
In spite of all he could do Strangwayes’ face made reply, and Hugh, after one look, turned himself to the wall.
Presently Strangwayes’ arm was slipped under his neck. “You must not grieve for that man,” he spoke anxiously.
At that Hugh turned and put his arm round Dick as he knelt by the pallet. “I was not grieving,” he said simply, “only I was sorry that after all I could not be sorry for him.” Then, after a moment: “Tell me all about it. Yes, now, I pray you, Dick.”
Strangwayes looked at him, then settled himself a little more comfortably on the floor by the pallet. “You remember the fight?”
Hugh nodded. “But I cannot understand how I had the better of it.”
“He gave it you,” Strangwayes answered. “He scorned you so he destroyed himself. He fenced as if ’twere mere play, and his last thrust was not clean. It took you beneath the small ribs, not a mortal thrust, and there his rapier stayed hampered. And while his body was undefended, as he strove to wrench his blade free, you ran him through the bowels. They carried him off the field, I hear, but he was bleeding inside, and they could do nothing for him. So ’twas well we came out from the hands of the guard, for Lord Bellasis was mad with anger, and he has great friends and influence with the king, so by next day the ways were laid and they were seeking us to answer for his death.”
“And you saved me from them,” Hugh said under his breath, while he tried to hug Dick with one arm.
“Faith, ’twas saving myself at the same time, and I near killed you in the effort. Jack Ridydale and I caught you up on the alarm and plunged into the ditch at the edge of the field—”
“I remember,” Hugh interrupted.