241Now I had fought many duels, but never such a deliberately planned one as this was. Usually it was when my blood and that of my companion was hot. It was a blow, a curse, a rush to a secluded spot where we could indulge in a bit of sword play and not be interrupted, and in a little while a body with a sword thrust, lying on the sward. The slayer being hurried off to a wine house with his friends. At most times, too, there had been seconds, and a few onlookers, though, when occasion forbade them, we made shift to do without.
There was the time I had met de Gloise, back of the chapel that stands on the left of the road, as you leave the northern road from Paris. We had no attendants then, but were able to accomplish some pretty sword strokes. He gave me a thrust in the shoulder, while, by some chance, my weapon went into his throat, and he never sang any more of those funny French songs.
And there was Gandes, who was accounted an excellent blade. He and I had it out, early one morning. ’Twas about whether he or I could drink the most red wine, if I recall the cause of the quarrel, for I was rather wild those days.
Neither of us was sober enough to do more than a slouchy bit of work with the weapons, for we had spent the night together at the Owl and Peacock, before we quarreled, as to which was the wiser bird of the twain painted above the inn door. We went out into the yard, where only the stable boys were rubbing their sleepy eyes, 242and crossed swords. Poor Gandes. I thrust him through the body, though, sober, I would not have harmed him so much, as he was my best friend. He gave me a hasty cut in the side which made me stiff for many a day.
Then there was the time when I trod on a stranger’s toes, in Munich, he being, at the time, about to call on a lady. He called me a clumsy lout, and I replied with hot words. So we had it out there in the moonlight, behind a church. He was a most delightful man with a sword, and it was a real honor to engage him, for he had several passes that quite puzzled me for a time. But I managed to reach under his guard, and give him a wound in the arm pit, which must have prevented him from holding a blade for some time. On his side, he came near to catching me unawares, and, the result was a lunge, that, had it been six inches lower, must have ended my fighting days. As it was, I bear the scar on my left cheek yet.
Thus I mused as I walked along to meet Sir George. I knew this would be no boys’ affair, and I resolved to attempt none of those niceties of the fence, of which I am capable. For I was not in the mind to take chances on my life now, since it had become precious to me from yester eve, when I found my love again. I would let slip no chance, though, to kill my foe, as only his death could wipe out the insult to Lucille.
We had now come so near that we could greet each other. I saluted with my sword, and Sir George returned 243the compliment gravely. The next instant we were both looking over the ground, whereon we were to engage.
The place we had selected the night before, was on a sort of sandy knoll, and the height of it above the surrounding beach prevented the waves from washing up on it, save when the tide was full. The ground there seemed to be dry and rather shifting, offering no secure foot-hold.
“It is a little better in this direction,” said Sir George, indicating a shallow hollow place in the sand behind him.
I agreed with him, for there the waters of the tides had washed up on the sand, packing it firmly down.
This place, however, lay a little farther toward the sea, and made it necessary for us, if we would fight there, to stand, at times, with our ankles in the wet. It seemed to be the nearest place that suited, and was, in truth, a choice spot for a bit of sword play.
We threw off our upper garments. Our weapons were out of the scabbards as one, and we advanced until we stood facing each other. Sir George turned his gaze for an instant toward the rising sun on his left. Then he looked me in the eyes.
“Guard,” he said, quickly.
“On guard,” said I.
Our swords crossed a second later, and the battle between us was on.
For the first time I noticed how pale Sir George was. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his face bore 244marks of his passion and his recent sufferings, physical and mental. But it was no time for such observations as these. His steel clicked viciously on mine, and I knew, by the pressure and the way he lunged, that he was trying to make short work of it.
The clash of our blades, both good ones, mingled with the roar of the surf. It was thrust and parry, parry and thrust, the keen pointed weapons gliding along their lengths like serpents. We circled about one another, each watching, with jealous eyes, for a false move, a misstep. Three times did he thrust at my heart, thinking to catch me off guard, but, each time, my blade was there before his, and the sword slipped off with a hiss as of hot iron.
I tried many a stroke and thrust that I had found of service heretofore, but ever did I find his wrist ready, and he turned aside my point once when I could have sworn that I would have ended it. He laughed at me.
He thrust at my throat, and, when I would have parried it, he shifted his point, on a sudden, toward my heart. It was an old trick, and I knew how to meet it. When I had turned his blade away by a simple shift of my weapon, I laughed back at him, and responded with so quick a lunge that I pricked him in the shoulder, thus getting the honor of first blood. And I laughed again, as he frowned.
But mortal arms and wrists could not stand the strain much longer, and we were both panting, while the sweat 245stood in beads on our brows. Through it all our eyes never for an instant left each other’s gaze.
Again and again I thrust, until I had his wrist weary turning them aside. Ever I sought to reach one spot, not that I hoped to wound him there, but I had a trick I wished to work. His lips opened, that he might breathe more freely, and I saw his chin quiver, while a drop of sweat, that had come out on his forehead, rolled down on his cheek. I knew the tide was on the point of turning now, and the struggle that had been an even one, was a jot in my favor. I had forced him to the defensive.
He saw the gleam of triumph in my eye, and, as if to assure me and himself that he was as fresh as ever, he smiled and tossed back his head.
We had circled about each other so often, neither giving a step, that there was a little ridge of sand made by our feet, enclosing a spot that bore no mark. Slowly, so slowly that to an onlooker it could not have been said when it happened, Sir George began to step back. It was but a slight shifting of the feet, a settling of the body on the right leg that did it, until, when another minute or two had passed he was without the ring, and I stood in the centre.
The one sweat drop had been followed by others, and he was breathing with an effort. His face became paler, nor was his sword as quick to respond to the parry. I pressed him hard, with the result that I touched him in the arm 246twice. I felt, rather than saw, that I had him now at an advantage.
Ha! Another inch and I would have ended it then. But I had not given him credit for the knowledge of that trick. He met my lunge, and turned it off to such account that he nipped me in the neck; only a slight wound, however. The sight of my blood seemed to enrage him, for he came at me fiercely, and I was forced for a moment to adopt a defense.
Then, slowly but surely, I made him give ground again. I could see the fear and dread come into his eyes, as I had seen it in other eyes before.
“How long is it to last?” he muttered, foolishly using his breath in words. Yet, in his agony, and it was agony when he saw death in front of him, he smiled. And it seemed like the same smile I had seen, when he stood urging on the men, as I was beneath the great press.
I did not answer, but pushed my sword point more and more near to his heart. Twice I tried to reach over his guard, but each time he had been too quick for me, and my thrusts went high in the air. As I recovered my balance a curious thing happened.
A wave, bigger than any that had come before, broke upon the beach and rushed toward us in a mass of foam and water. In an instant we were lunging at one another knee deep in the sea. As the water flowed down the incline again it swept the sand from beneath our feet, and we had hard work to stand upright. But even that did 247not stop him from making a fierce thrust at my throat so that I had to be on the alert to force his point away.
The next instant came a woman’s scream. We both turned, forgetting for the time that our very lives depended on the watch we kept of the other.
Lucille was on the beach, running toward us!
My heart gave a throb, and I half turned myself about. The next moment I realized my folly, and was facing my enemy again. But that one moment was almost too long.
I had without thinking lowered the point of my weapon and given Sir George the very opening he wanted.
Like a snake his steel slipped half its length over mine, and the point was toward my heart. For the life of me I could not help the gasp that my breath gave. In my desperation I tried a parry that de Sceaul had once taught me. I dared not hope it would be effective, for I was too late with it.
His sword drew sparks from mine as it rasped along the length; the point was before my eyes.
With a last fearful lunge toward him I managed to force his weapon up, with my own pointing heavenward, and only just in time, for the point tore a furrow through the skin of my forehead.
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CHAPTER XXI. OF THE VOYAGE OF LUCILLE.
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CHAPTER XXIII. SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT.
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