And in another moment two of them had sprung on and secured me; two others had grasped Juan, and disarmed him, too.
And now there was none on our side to oppose himself to them but Jaime.
"Shoot him down! Kill him!" the leader cried. Then added: "You fool, there is naught against you, yet, if you court fate, receive it."
But, great fighter as he was, what could he do against all those? One hung upon his sword arm, another clasped a leg, a third was dragging at his neck from behind, a fourth holding his monkish gown.
In another moment he, too, was disarmed. We were beaten--prisoners! The lives of all of us were at an end. None could doubt that!
The leader drew a long breath, then turned to where, at the open door of the passage, were gathered the landlord, as I supposed; several facchinos and some trembling women servants, white to the lips, and said:
"Observe, all you. I take these men--these asasinos within your house. I denounce these two," and he indicated Juan and me, "the one as an English spy and a man who fought against us at Vigo, this other one, this boy, as his comrade and accomplice. Bear witness to my words, also to their deeds of blood."
From that crowd in the passage there came murmurs and revilings in reply: "You should have slain them here," some said; "Better the garrote or the flames in the plaza da Mercado," said others.
"As for this monk, this false monk--for such I know him now to be--easy enough to recognise him as one of the brigands we fought with the other night--had he not joined in this fray he had been safe. We sought him not. Now, also, the flames or the garrote for him." Then, breaking off, he exclaimed: "Who is this--and that black slave lying dead there?" and he pointed to Eaton and the other. "Who are they?"
"A gentleman and his servant staying in this, my house," the landlord said, speaking for the first time, "doubtless assaulted by the vagabundos. Oh! 'tis terrible."