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 did not relish his mockery, nor in any wise covet the office he would
thrust upon me. But his laughter stung me to a great heat (though I
showed it not), and, not counting the cost as an older man had done, I
determined in my mind that I would do this thing, come of it what might.
Whereupon, feigning to take him in merry mood, I smote upon the table
likewise, declared ’twas a right royal jest, and vowed that on the
morrow I would make my way privily through the enemy’s lines into
Bargen, and instal myself tutor among the mynheers. Sir Francis
applauded me, still in sport, not supposing that I had spoken soberly
and in earnest.
When I came to reflect upon it in my own chamber I questioned whether I
were not clean witless, for the task I had taken upon myself was fitter
for a man well acquainted with these burghers than for a man raw and
untried. Nevertheless, having put the halter about my own neck, I could
blame none but myself if I was hanged withal, and from sheer pride of
soul I was steadfast to my purpose.
Accordingly, the next day, without any more speech of Sir Francis, I
went about quietly to get myself a trusty Dutchman who should guide me
into Bargen. By good fortune I lighted upon a man that not only knew
English, but had himself gone in and out of the city by a secret way, in
despite of the Spaniards. In the dusk we set forth from the camp, with
my servant, and rode to a lonely mill some few miles from Bargen, half
ruined and burnt in a foray the year before. There we left our horses,
which the Dutchman engaged to lead back to the camp, and went down to
the river hard by, where, in a clump of rushes, we found his raft
cunningly concealed.
It being now dark, we got upon the raft, and oared ourselves warily and
in silence down the stream, until we came to a spit or nose of land that
was at this season partly submerged and in winter-time wholly. Here we
stepped ashore, being within a short bowshot of the Spaniards’ trenches.
At this hour of the night none but the sentinels were stirring, and, as
my guide well knew, the guard hereabout was negligent and unwary.
We crept softly as foxes toward the wall, and as we crawled up the
glacis a voice challenged us, and I heard the click of a firelock. My
guide made answer in a whisper, and immediately after two rope ladders
were let down from the wall, upon which we nimbly mounted to the
parapet. There we were confronted by a posse of the burgher guard, armed
at all points, and my Dutchman presented me to their captain, saying,
according to my instruction, that I was come on business of great moment
from Prince Maurice.
[Illustration: WE CREPT SOFTLY AS FOXES TOWARD THE WALL]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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