All fell out as Ian had planned; the shoe was quite loose and before they had reached the city gate, Ian said to Father Martin, “Methinks, Father, your mare will shortly cast her shoe.”
So they returned to the hostelry where there was a smithy. Ian then succeeded in getting them all interested in a thrilling narrative just as the mare was ready, and put off the time until it seemed best to stay and have dinner before starting. More stories lengthened the meal, so that it was not till well on in the afternoon of the short winter day that they actually set out.
Ian was placed in the middle, surrounded by the guards, with loaded pistols, and his hands were tied, but not very tightly, as they allowed him to hold the reins. Try as he would he could not help the violent beating of his heart. Could he, one man, unarmed and bound, outwit all these knaves? The vision of little Aline rose before him. “I must fight the very fates,” he said to himself, “verily, I must win.” His thoughts travelled back to those days, long ago, when as a mere child he had given his heart-worship to the beautiful girl who had gone from him, but whom he had loved with a passionate devotion ever since. He had said practically nothing to Aline, but he was sure that he knew whence the strange likeness came; and for the double claim that she had upon him, fate, that had so cruelly treated him long ago, should be made to yield. He felt the strength of his own will like a white fire and then he trembled for a moment lest he should be fighting against God. “O Lord,” he prayed, “Thou hast brought me on this road and Thou hast made this lovely child; let her not perish by the machinations of evil men. Take my life, O God, give me all torture and the terrible burning, but grant her happiness.”
He felt a sudden influx of power and prayed again a prayer of thankfulness. “Yes,” he said, “I will bend fate to my will and God will smile on my struggle and then I will yield myself to Him and He shall toss me into the void or do unto me in my despite whatsoever seemeth Him good.”
It was a long road and the spirits of the party flagged. It was, moreover, bitterly cold, but Ian had not dared to put on more clothing for fear that it should defeat his plans. There had been a thaw and he watched anxiously for the river. He had succeeded during the long ride, in very considerably loosening the cord that tied his wrists, and although it was still quite tight round one wrist and he could not be certain of freeing the other, he was sure that he could slip it sufficiently to get twenty to thirty inches of free play between his hands. He had managed, too, greatly to fray the portion that would be the connecting piece.
It was getting dusk when they reached the river, and, owing to the recent heavy weather and thaws, the ford was so high that the water was more than up to the horses’ girths. Ian’s heart beat more violently than ever; it seemed almost as though it could be heard. “Aline, Aline, had she no more reliable deliverer than himself?”
As they crossed, the horses had to pick their way and they spread out a good deal so that they were almost in a line, with Ian in the middle, who managed also to coax his horse a little bit down the stream. He then nerved himself for the supreme effort and, first jerking his horse back almost on to its haunches, so as to give in the gloom the appearance of the animal having stumbled, he flung himself from its back shrieking,—“Help, help,” as he went. As soon as the water closed over him he struck out and swam under water as far as he possibly could. Unfortunately the cord did not break as he hoped and the swimming was exceedingly difficult, but there was sufficient play of cord to make the feat quite possible, and the swift current helped him not a little.
It was perhaps fortunate that nearly all the pistols were discharged at once, before he came to the surface, as they were fired at random into the confused water round the horse, which had some difficulty in regaining its footing.
When he rose he immediately took a breath and went under again. Only one man was looking in that direction and he did not seriously think that the dark spot in the turbid river was really anything; where occasionally a half hidden boulder would appear above the water. But he took aim, more or less mechanically or from intuition, and fired, and the bullet actually grazed Ian’s shoulder.