The Messenger of the Black Prince

by Thomas A. H. Mawhinney

From where I was, of course, I saw him only dimly. I watched him for a long while toying with the fire as idly as a child. Then he rose and moved towards the left, for the smoke was floating in his face. He must have been blinded for the moment, for he put his fist in his eyes to rub them.

I was trembling with anxiety. I gave one more glance about in every direction. Suddenly I noticed a form—the naked figure of a man—crawling on his hands and knees from out the fringe of woods. He had a club bigger and heavier than my own, which he pushed before him on the ground. Like a flash he straightened himself. The man who was fully clad had his back to him and was still rubbing his eyes. It was my captor, who now began to run forward like an animal eager to fell its prey. He lifted the club high over his head. His eyes shone with savage eagerness in the light of the fire and a grin of victory spread over his countenance.

For a second I was paralyzed with fright. Then I collected myself. I cast all caution aside and ran likewise out of the woods. Just as the club was poised in the air ready to fall I called out in a terrified voice the words, “Look out!”

My voice was pitched high and resounded in the silence of the woods like the crack of a crashing thunderbolt.

The man who was clad jumped as though he had been stuck with a spear and edged off to one side. The club came down. It was a little beside its mark, but even then it struck the man on the side and knocked the breath out of him so that he fell in pain to the ground.

I had betrayed myself to my captor. He had heard my voice and turned. I was coming up at full speed with my staff high in the air. I did not hesitate. With a swinging motion, before he could right himself, I caught him as hard a blow as I could deal and sent him face down sprawling in the dirt.

I had no time to lose. My captor would soon struggle to his feet. I knew I was no match for him in a hand-to-hand combat. I would have to have aid. So I went over to the man whom he had knocked senseless and caught him by the shoulder. I shook him to bring him the more quickly to his senses. I turned him over so that I could see his face. Then I let out a gasp that shook me from my heels to my head. Never in the whole course of my life was I more amazed for there before me on the ground was the lad I had come so far to seek, the son of the old Count of Gramont, Charles!

With my heart thumping like a hammer, I did all in my power to bring him around. I chafed his hands and temples. I took him under the arm-pits and lifted him to his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was a look of terror in them first. Then he blinked. It was as though he could hardly trust his senses. He grasped me by the shoulder. He took in a deep breath. A smile of recognition played about his face and I knew that he understood.

“Quick!” I whispered, and pointed to my captor who was now raising himself on one arm.

In a second he threw off his stupor. He ran back to the fire and seized a length of a limb of a tree which he could use as a weapon against his savage foe.