I passed though the hall, out of the back door and into the garden. The path to the brook wound and twisted so that you could not see the stream for the trees and shrubs. I stood a moment, hesitating, wondering whether after all I had the right or the privilege to break in upon such company as she might be entertaining, when a scream which came faintly from the end of the garden, decided me.
I broke into a run and in a few moments came upon my lady struggling in the arms of a man. What man, do you ask? None other than his grace, the Duke of Arcester! He had his arms around her and although he was no great figure of a man, he was much stronger than the slight girl he was grappling so roughly. He held her tightly by the waist with one arm and with the other was trying to turn her head so that he could kiss her fairly on her lips.
I was upon them before either realized my arrival. In my fury I grasped the duke by the collar of his coat with my left hand and with my right I ruthlessly tore him away from my lady.
“Thank God, you have come!� she cried, reeling and staggering, her face flushed, her hair disheveled, her dress in disarray.
I heard that much and then the duke was upon me. Gritting his teeth and swearing frightful oaths, he got to his feet—I had thrown him prone—dragged out his sword and rushed at me.
“You dog!� he cried, “you have balked me before and you interfere now. I have had enough of you, and the world has.�
He did not intend to give me any chance to defend myself apparently. My little mistress screamed. I heard her call my name and I suppose she thought I was done for, but sailors are proverbially quick-witted, footed, and handed, and I was not the least alert of seamen for all my size. I was wearing a hanger, a much heavier and more unwieldly weapon than the duke’s dress sword, but its weight was a matter of no moment to an arm like mine. I sprang aside as he lunged furiously at me, drew it, and the next moment our blades clashed in earnest. For myself, I rejoiced in the opportunity. Some men of humble birth might have been disturbed at the thought of crossing swords with a great noble, but nothing of that occurred to me. I wanted to show my lady, I confess, that even with gentlemen’s weapons I was this man’s master. And so I fell to it eagerly.
Now I am a good fighter and no mean fencer. I can cross blades with anyone on earth. I did not know all the niceties and refinements of the game. I lacked grace perhaps—but when it came to attack and defense, there were few men who could beat me—certainly the duke was not one of them. My swift play must have looked to the duke as if I were surrounded by a wall of steel. Therefore, he realized at once that his only chance lay in the energy and rapidity of his fence. He was as passionately incensed as I, if from a different cause. Lunge succeeded lunge with lightning-like speed. I will admit that I was hard put to it for a time. The play of light on his blade fairly dazzled me. It was with the greatest difficulty that I parried. But my lord was not built for the long continuance of such violent exercise. Sweat ran into his eyes, his thrusts grew less swift, less sure, if not less vicious in their intent. I could feel his growing weakness with my blade. After a few moments I saw that I had him. It was now my turn to attack. Something of the berserk madness of my Saxon ancestors suddenly filled my veins. I beat down his defense by a series of terrific blows and finally shivered his sword. He stood before me panting, weaponless, yet to give him his due, more or less undaunted. I raised my own blade.
“Would you strike a defenseless man, cur?� he cried haughtily, still not blenching.
“You had no scruple in attacking a defenseless woman,� I replied. “Nay,� I thundered as he made a sudden movement, “stand where you are. What I shall do to you depends upon what I hear. If you move I swear to you that I will beat you down like the villain that you are.�