The Crimson Sign / A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme, Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of Foot

by S. R. Keightley

Then he closed the book and dropping on his knees (an example which was followed by all the company except the Vicomte, who was apparently fast asleep) he prayed loudly and fervently. His prayer was to some extent a repetition of the verses he had been reading, clothed in more homely language. He prayed that God would lead His people forth in safety through the perils and dangers that encompassed them; and that the wicked oppressor might be taken in his own toils and destroyed utterly. Then from the language of supplication he passed to the enthusiasm of prophecy. The day was at hand when a great deliverance would be wrought for the people of God. The scarlet woman, sunken in her adulteries and witchcraft, would pass into the darkness of Tophet; they who lived by the sword would perish by the sword, and the Protestant cause would triumph over all its enemies. When he had finished, and his loud Amen was repeated by the kneeling men around him, he remained for some time on his knees apparently engaged in private prayer. Then he rose to his feet with the prompt alacrity that distinguished him, and gave the few necessary instructions for the night.

“We march at three,” he said abruptly. “Ralston will do duty at the Bridge, and Given will take the church at the upper end of the village. In three hours they will be relieved. There must be no sleeping on sentry duty, my lads,” he added, with additional sternness in his tone, “for we do not want our throats cut while we sleep. This is not child´s play, and if you fail in aught be assured you have a man to deal with who knows how to punish laggards.”

With these words he left the room abruptly and the men, with the exception of the two who had been selected for duty, settled themselves on the earthen floor of the kitchen to snatch a brief repose. Gervase had secured for himself a small room at the end of the house in which there was a rude bed, and which he had proposed to share with the Vicomte who, however, had declined his offer. The door of the room, which was of oak, was secured by a heavy bolt and this he fastened carefully behind him when he entered the apartment. The moon was shining bright and the sky was full of stars. From the little window Gervase could see the church tower standing square and black in the soft yellow moon-light, and the little river winding down the valley like a tangled silver thread. Placing his sword within reach and his pistols under his pillow, he threw himself on the pallet. But for some time his mind was too busy with the events of the day to allow him to settle himself to sleep. Half dreaming, half awake, he saw again and again in its deadly agony and unspeakable terror, the face of the man whom he had run through in the skirmish. He heard ringing in his ears the wild shouts of the charging horsemen, and his sword was raised aloft to strike, when his strength seemed suddenly to become as the strength of a little child, and his heart to die for fear within him. At length, worn out with the labour of the day, he fell into a profound and dreamless sleep.

It was long past midnight when he was awakened by the sound of the crashing and splintering of wood, the clash of weapons and the glare of blazing lights. Leaping, dazed and bewildered, from his bed, he caught up his sword, and placing his back against the wall, prepared to sell his life as dearly as possible. Already the stout oak panels had given way under the heavy blows that were being dealt from the outside. In another minute the door fell in with a crash, and the room was filled with flashing lights and a crowd of armed ruffians. At the sight of him standing with his weapon drawn, his assailants halted for a moment; then someone raised the cry: “Cut the throat of the heretic,” and there was a simultaneous rush upon him. They were so crowded together that they could not effectually use their weapons, and to his own surprise Gervase was able to keep them at bay.

When the first shock of surprise had passed, and it passed almost immediately, he felt his eyes clear and his nerves steady themselves into a cool and deliberate resolve to die, if needs must, like a valiant fighting man. He realized at a glance the extreme desperateness of the situation, and his very despair gave him courage. His grasp was firm and strong on the hilt of his sword, and the pulses of his blood began to beat steadily. In after days he wondered that it should be so, and like a simple and courageous gentleman, he set it down to no heroism of his own, but to the inspiration and direction of a higher Power. In a moment standing there he knew what had happened. The sentinels had been surprised at their post, the men below had been taken unawares and overpowered without resistance, and the hostelry was completely in the hands of the enemy. For him there was no hope of escape, and he knew he need expect no quarter. Leaping upon the bed, he parried the blows that were dealt at him. Again and again his assailants came surging up, and again and again he cleared the deadly circle round him. Already two or three bodies lay on the floor below him: his sword streamed with blood from the point to the hilt. For a moment there was a pause--his courage and coolness had checked the first rush. Then with a deep oath one of the fellows sprang forward, and caught him round the knees with a grasp that he could not disengage, and another leaping on the bed beside him, sought to wrest the weapon from his hand. He thought that the end was come and that in another minute it would be all over. But he felt his strength the strength of ten. Dealing one of the fellows a tremendous blow fair and straight in the face, he shortened his sword and ran the other through the body; without a sound the man rolled over and fell in a heap on the floor. Again the circle cleared round him and he drew a deep breath. Then there was a sound of rushing water in his ears; the room swam round him; tottering and falling he clung to the wall for support. Through a blinding mist he saw, or dreamt he saw, the gleam of uplifted weapons round him ready to strike, and he wondered that they did not make an end of him; then the tall figure of De Laprade with his rapier drawn, striking up the weapons that were aimed at him; surely, too, that was the voice of the gallant Vicomte?--"What, cowards! would you slay the boy now that he is down, when you could not face him with his sword in his hand? Ah, sang de Dieu! you shall not touch him. I command you; I, Victor de Laprade. Mille de Diables! take up these carcases and see if there is any life left in them. He is a gallant gentleman, and you shall not injure a hair of his head."

To the reeling brain of Gervase all was wild tumult and disorder; the lights blazed round him; the flash of gleaming steel and the shadow of dark passionate faces came and went; the strident clamour of angry voices sounded as from immeasurable distances. And then his senses failed him and he remembered no more.

When consciousness returned he was lying on the bed with the Vicomte bending over him, while a little dark man in a shabby cloak and wig very much the worse for wear, was stanching the blood that flowed from a wound in his shoulder. The room had been cleared, but some fellows whose faces showed that they had been robbed of their spoil, were gathered round the door, and looked on with countenances that betokened little goodwill toward the wounded man. The little surgeon went on busily with his work and when he had finished, rubbed his hands with an air of satisfaction.

“A neat bit of work, Vicomte; as pretty a piece of accidental skilfulness as ever I saw in my life. The one hundred and twelfth part of an inch would have relieved this tenement of clay of its immortal soul, and being a heretic----” and he shook his head vigorously. “However, ´tis but a trifle to one who hath youth and vigour. This excessive bleeding will relieve him of sundry humours and affections that lurk in the veins of youth, and in a day or two at the furthest his natural strength will assert itself. He must avoid the use of intoxicating fluids. But I´m thinking,” he added, with a twinkle in his eyes, “there will be little for him after my lord and myself.”

Gervase opened his eyes and attempted to rise, but De Laprade, sitting beside him on the bed, gently restrained him.

“Be not in too great haste, my friend,” he said. “My Lord Galmoy will want to see you presently and you will need all your strength for the interview.”