With the British Legion: A Story of the Carlist Wars

by G. A. Henty

When the prior had left, Arthur sat down and thought the matter over. The look-out was certainly not bright. He saw that he had very little chance of making his escape from the monastery. It was no doubt a large building, with any number of passages and corridors, in which, if he could escape from the cell, he would simply be lost, so that long before he could find his way to the gate, he would be overtaken and captured again. One thing, however, he might do. No doubt for a short time the two monks who brought him provisions would be accompanied by others, but when they found that he showed no signs of trying to effect his escape, they would become less vigilant. In that case he might possibly overcome these two men, make his escape to the story above, and drop out a note from the window which might be taken to Leon, who would assuredly obtain his release without delay. He could tear a blank page out of one of the books with which he was to be provided, and write a message upon it. His pencil had not been taken from him, nor his pocket-knife.

The days went on. He had no reason to complain of his treatment; the food was good and wholesome; the monks who attended to him brought a can of water daily, carried away his basin and emptied it, and swept out his cell. A mattress and blankets had been substituted for the straw, a supply of such books as he asked for had been brought to him, and it was evident that his captors desired that he should have nothing to complain of save his loss of liberty.

After ten days he resolved to carry his plan into execution. Tearing out a blank leaf carefully, he wrote upon it:

"I am confined in a monastery. I can give no information as to its position save that it is in the town. Apply to regent for an order to search."

He then signed his name, folded up the slip of paper, and on the outside wrote:

"One hundred dollars will be paid by the Count Leon de Balen to anyone who will bring this note to him."

He then waited for a favourable opportunity.

He had, one day when meat was served to him, abstracted the knife and hidden it in his stocking. The monks, when they removed the tray, did not notice that anything was missing, but he observed that on the following day they carefully felt the mattress. By this he guessed that the loss of the knife had not been discovered till that morning. The monks, fearing that they would be blamed for carelessness, had very likely protested that they had brought it as usual into the kitchen with the tray; and had only for their own satisfaction looked to see if it were hidden there. Arthur had taken it without any definite view of using it; but he thought that if this attempt to obtain succour failed, it might come in useful in any future plan he might devise.

Next day, when his attendant monks were bending to place his basin and tray on the floor, he suddenly rushed at them and hurled them both to the ground. Then he hurried out of the cell.

Four monks were standing in the passage. Running at full speed he dashed at them. Two of them were levelled to the ground; he cast the other two aside, and ran on. At the end of the passage was a staircase. Up this he darted, and found himself in a corridor similar to that below. A number of doors opened from it. He turned the handle of one of these, ran across the room to the window, pushed his hands through the bars, and dropped the note. A moment later he heard a bell ring loudly and sharply. Doubtless one of the men he had overthrown had at once run to it, and was giving the alarm, which would send all the monks to the entrance. He had done what he had to do, so he walked quietly downstairs again. Five of the monks were huddled in the passage, and at his approach they took to headlong flight. With a laugh Arthur entered his cell and sat down. Presently a terrified face appeared at the door and looked in.