"Fall on," exclaimed Vandecque, "and do your duty. Seize on him."
'Twas easier said than done, however, as those five men found when once they were engaged with the Englishman--well armed as they were. The rapier wielded by Clarges seemed to have, indeed, the power of five swords; it was everywhere--under their guard, perilously near their lungs, through one man's throat already--a man who now lay choking on the ground. Moreover, Clarges had had time to wind his cloak swiftly round his left arm, and, with that arm bent, to ward off several of their attacks. Nor was this difficult, since all were not armed as well as he. The exempts had short swords of the cutlass order, which would cut heavily but administer no thrust; the archers had rapiers, or, rather, long thin tucks, which were more deadly--Vandecque had a weapon as good as Clarge's own. Already it had lunged twice at his breast--and hate had added, perhaps, an extra force to those thrusts (for Vandecque was undone by the marriage that had taken place that morning), and had twice been parried. Yet as Clarges knew, he was spared but for a few moments; his fate was but postponed. Against that rapier and the remaining blades--unless he could kill the wielders of the latter, and so stand face to face with Vandecque alone--he had no hope. The swordsman never lived yet who could encounter four others--for the man on the ground was disposed of--and keep them at bay for longer than a few moments.
He knew his end was at hand; at every moment he expected the sharp thrust of the rapier through his body, or the heavy swinging blow that would cleave his head in half. He knew one or the other must come, yet he fought hard against the odds, with his back against the house behind him, his teeth clenched, his breath coming faster and faster from his lungs. And, all beset as he was, knowing that death was near at hand, he whispered to himself "for her, for her."
Though once he thought, "'Tis better so, far better. Thus her way is clear, and she is free of me."
He forgot--he was mercifully permitted to forget for a moment that, free of him, she would still be open to Desparre's designs again, and might still be forced to marry him.
Yet, a moment later, the recollection of this sprang swiftly as a lightning flash to his mind. He must live for her, he must not be slain and thereby set her free for Desparre.
Nerved afresh to his task by this memory, he fought with renewed energy--fought like a tiger at bay, determined that, even though he fell, he would not fall alone; that he would have some more companions on the dark road he must go, as well as the man now dead at his feet.
"Two," he muttered through his set teeth as, darting like an adder's fang, his rapier passed through a second man's breast-bone when, with a yell of agony, the archer fell at his feet. "Two. Who next?"
But still there were three to contend with, Vandecque, an archer, and an exempt. And these two were raining blows at him, while the gambler's sword was making pass after pass--it being caught once in the folds of the cloak over his left arm and missing once his left breast by an inch, while ripping open the coat and waistcoat as it darted by. Then, as he warded off another swinging blow from the archer's weapon, he knew the time had come. His rapier was cleft in twain by the heavier metal of the other blade--his hand held nothing but the hilt and a few inches of sundered steel.
With a fierce exclamation he flung himself full at the man who had disabled him, seized him by the throat ere he could swing his cutlass again, and dashed with awful force the remnant of his sword in his face, inflicting a frightful wound and battering the features into an unrecognisable mass.