“No you won’t,” he exclaimed. “The fact is that you’ll remember me till your dying day. You’ll tell your children about me long after I’m dead.” Here he seized my arm again even more firmly than before. “I must be off,” he cried. “And you won’t forget, will you? Never breathe to a soul that I’ve been here!”
I was puzzled but yet more amused. I was sure that it was some whim or other that had taken hold of his fancy. So to flatter him I promised that his presence here would never be mentioned. With that he seemed pleased and with a skip and a hop he made his way around to the back of the forge where he was quickly lost among the trees.
To satisfy my own curiosity I gazed a long time up and down the road. There was nothing as far as I could see that could have given him cause for alarm. The whole highway was as void as a desert save that on the brow of the hill, like a speck in the sky, there came riding towards us a solitary horseman, booted and spurred, in all likelihood a guest for the village inn for the night. At most he was only a passing stranger like hundreds of others. I smiled at myself that I had taken the Fool so seriously. I went back to have my laugh out with Le Brun and to wait for my brother’s gear.
CHAPTER II
I AM ATTACKED IN THE WOODS
It was late in the afternoon when I left the armorer’s. The sky was covered with low dark clouds. A fine rain fell which cut through the skin with the keenness of a sharp knife.
Our house (where I lived alone with my brother André) lay above a mile from the village around a long bend in the road—a track I rarely traveled, for I knew a shorter path through the woods. So with my brother’s armor slung lightly over my shoulder I started briskly on my way.
I was without a serious thought. The birds, in the face of the oncoming night, were settled in their nests. The branches of the trees began to drip moisture over my face and neck. The grass and the underbrush were a bit soggy under my feet, but even with that the lightness of my heart prompted me to whistle a little tune.
I had gone about half way. The thoughts of a bright fire and warmth were uppermost in my brain. Save for the dripping of the rain the woods were as silent as an empty tomb.
A sound startled me—a swish like the hurry of a deer or a wild-boar scurrying through the weeds. I stopped and peered carefully through the gathering gloom. The sound was repeated, directly in front of me. Quite instinctively I backed away to seek the protection of the nearest tree, and waited. But for a second all I could hear was the thumping of my heart against my ribs.