A Gentleman-at-Arms: Being Passages in the Life of Sir Christopher Rudd, KnightStrang, Herbert
History
A Gentleman-at-Arms: Being Passages in the Life of Sir Christopher Rudd, Knight
Strang, Herbert
Adventure stories; Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Juvenile fiction
I had ridden but a few hundred yards up the lane when they came dashing
out of the copse after me, Lameray again the first. And now that I had
drawn them into pursuit, as I had purposed, I gave my good horse his
head, and galloped on at a round pace. Soon I left the lane, leaping
the hedge into a field, not for easiness of going, but to entice the
enemy after me, and thereby give the King the opportunity of riding
forth with his party and reaching camp before me. The hunt followed my
lead with excellent witlessness; taking a flying look at them I
perceived that nearly every man of them was joining in the chase; and my
blood tingles now, old man as I am, when I remember the joy that leapt
in my veins as I rode, springing over hedges and ditches, the pack in
full cry after me. Verily I believe that my horse was as merry as I
myself, though he may have wondered where was the fox, not knowing that
I myself was the quarry of that hunt.
My steed, as I have said, was the envy of the camp, and at the pace
whereto I set him he soon outdistanced all the pursuers save only
Lameray, who bestrode a fine roan but little less in value than my own
horse. One by one the others dropt off, but he still kept within the
same distance of me, and I wondered whether he would have the temerity
to pursue me up to the very skirts of the camp and perchance into the
arms of Biron. Glancing over my shoulder (yet careful to shield my face
with my arm), I saw that a dyke I had just leapt had been too much for
every one of my pursuers but him, and recollecting his insolency towards
me, and the attempt on my life, and above all, his slur upon my
swordsmanship, I resolved to try conclusions with him, and prove upon
his body the foul traitor he was. Accordingly I put my horse at a low
wall, barely clearing an unexpected ditch that lay beyond it, and
reining up, wheeled about and awaited my enemy a dozen yards upon the
further side. He came up at a wild and reckless pace, and, traitor
though he was, I could not but admire the dexterity of his manage as he
leapt the wall at the very place of my crossing. Seeing me biding for
him, with no care now to shroud my countenance, he drew his sword at the
moment of leaping, and came at me in a fury. But his horse lost a
little speed in taking the ditch, and since I set spurs to mine as soon
as Lameray’s alighted, we met with a mighty shock, and my steed being
lighter than his was forced back upon his haunches. In this manner I
escaped the point of his sword outthrust towards me, and causing my
horse to swerve, I heard Lameray’s snarl of rage as he was carried a few
paces beyond. In a twinkling he was about, and lifting his sword high
above his head, he brought it down with a vehement stroke that, had it
touched me, would assuredly have cleft my head in twain, or my arm from
the shoulder. But my good steed answered perfectly to the pressure of
my heel upon his flank, and swerving, saved me by a hair’s breadth. And
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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