'I did not know Monseigneur would be so affected; but time presses and we need the name of Biron to that scroll. Hand the Marshal the pen, Lafin.'
'It is here,' and de Gomeron, dipping a pen in a silver ink-stand, held it out in his hand.
Biron made a half step forward to take it, when a thing happened. I felt myself suddenly thrust aside, and there was a blinding flash, a loud report, and a shout from Nicholas, 'Missed, by God!'
There was absolutely no time to do anything but make for the horses. Nicholas had fired at de Gomeron in his mad thirst for revenge, and had practically given our lives away. In the uproar and din that followed we slid down the sash like apes, and dashed towards the horses. Some one shouted 'Traitor—traitor,' and let fly at us twice as we ran across the open space. From the courtyard we could hear the hurry and bustle of men suddenly aroused, and as we reached the oak we heard the bay of the bloodhounds, and the thunder of hoofs in pursuit.
CHAPTER VII
[POOR NICHOLAS!]
From the oak to the spot where our horses were tethered was close upon fifty paces, and never, I think, was ground covered at a speedier rate by men running for their lives. I was bursting with anger, and know not what restrained me from pistolling Nicholas, so furious was I at the blind folly of the man. As we reached the horses, we could hear the dogs splashing through the spill-water at the edge of the lake, and someone fired a third shot at us from horseback—a shot in the dark which whistled through the branches overhead.
'Quick! quick, monsieur! 'gasped Nicholas, and with a turn of his hand he freed Couronne, and sprang to her back—the great mare standing steady as a rock.
'Quick!' he called out again more loudly, and I made a vain effort to loosen my beast, which, startled by the shots, the baying of the dogs, and our haste and hurry, plunged and kicked as though it were demented.
'Damn you!' I hissed, half at the horse, half at the crop-eared idiot who had caused this disaster, and, managing somehow to scramble to the saddle, cut the halter with a draw of my dagger. At this moment the dogs reached us; a dark object sprang up from the ground, and, fastening on the jaws of my horse, brought him to his knees, whilst the other beast flew at my companion. Nicholas' pistol rang out to no purpose, the report was echoed by a chorus of shouts from the troopers following us, and Couronne, swinging round, lashed out with her heels at the hound that was baying her. Leaning forward with one arm half round the neck of my snorting horse, I thrust twice at the hound hanging to him, the first time sliding off his metal collar, but at the second blow my blade slipped to the hilt into something soft, it seemed of its own accord, and as the dead dog fell suddenly back, bearing my poniard with it, my freed horse rose to its feet, and mad with pain dashed forwards into the teeth of our pursuers. I let him go—one might as well have tried to stop the rush of a mad bull. By a miracle I escaped being torn off by the overhanging branches, and as we raced into the open, Nicholas at my heels shouting 'To the north! to the north!' we were not twenty paces away from the troopers. My frantic horse went straight at them, and, driving my spurs home, I made him leap at the foremost horseman. His animal swerved off—a piece of good luck for both of us. Then my pistol missed fire, and I was in the midst of them. The quarters were so close, and the confusion so great, that at first only those on the outside could use their weapons, and in their hurry to do so some of these perhaps struck at each other. One man, however, shortened his sword, and would have run me through had I not luckily seen the flash of the blade and given him the heavy iron-bound butt of my pistol on the forehead. He was probably much hurt, but although he lurched backwards senseless, so close was the press that he was held in his saddle. The butt of the pistol was broken off by the blow, and for the moment I was disarmed. I dared not call out to Nicholas for fear of being recognised; but at this juncture horse and man on my right seemed to be dashed to earth, and Nicholas was at my elbow, striking right and left with the heavy hilt of his sword. Profiting by the relief, I drew out my second pistol and shot the man before me. Pressing against his mount with my brave little nag, who was now in hand again, I got clear, and, with a shout to Nicholas to follow, dashed off towards the north. It was at this moment that three other riders galloped up, and I heard de Gomeron call out, 'Sangdieu! They are off. After them, dogs,' and clapping spurs to his beast he rode after us. We had, however, gained a full twenty yards' start, which was more than trebled by the few seconds' delay before the troopers could recover themselves and follow. My horse was going at racing pace; but Couronne kept by his side with a long and effortless stride. De Gomeron was at our heels, and with a sudden rush ranged alongside of Nicholas. The sergeant possibly did not recognise his assailant, and managed somehow to parry the cut aimed at him, and the next moment de Gomeron's horse stumbled and went down; but the man himself, who was a rare horseman, fell on his feet like a cat. It was, however, a moment more of respite, and Nicholas, with a wild cheer, dashed into the forest, riding recklessly through the trees. We both leaned forward to the necks of our horses, and as far as I was concerned I made no attempt to guide my beast, but let him follow Couronne, who, surefooted as a stag, turned and twisted amongst the trees with almost human forethought. The single hound that was left strained bravely behind us; but, mindful probably of the fate that had overtaken his brother, made no direct attack. As we dashed into the wood the troopers attempted to follow; but it was with a relaxed speed, and every moment we were distancing them, and their cries, shouts, and curses became fainter and more faint. I began to think if we could but be rid of the sleuthhound, we would get off with whole skins. The beast was, however, not to be shaken off, and, avoiding the heels of the horses, came with a lop, lop, through the leaves alongside my nag, just out of reach of the point of my sword, which I had managed to draw. As he snapped and growled, my horse, already once wounded, and still smarting with pain, shied off from him, bruising my leg against a tree trunk, in the bark of which my spur remained, and all but unseating me. Another shy amongst the trees would have finished my business, for the pain of the bruise at the moment was exquisite; but, leaping a fallen log, Nicholas burst through a juniper bush, and my horse following him, we came on to an open stretch which sloped down to the river.