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
"That paper," I continued, with measured gravity, "I hold now in my
pocket, together with two others, the which have come into my possession
in strange wise since I entered your city; and most strange, they are
writ in the selfsame hand as the first. Moreover, they are one and all
of the same tenor, to wit, dwelling on the dire straits whereinto this
city has fallen, and furnishing hints concerning a party within the
walls—a party of one or mayhap two or three—that is plotting to render
up the city into the hands of the enemy." While I spoke I fastened my
eyes intently upon him, and I saw the fashion of his countenance suffer
a change, and in his eyes a look of hate and terror commingled. I went
on:—"Sir, they are simple souls that believe the stars order our lives
and destinies, and it were easy to persuade such that a shot, whether it
be of silver or of iron, fired under planetary influence, should cast as
it were a spell even upon a ruthless foe. Yet methinks their simplicity
would suffer a rude shock did they know that a round shot may carry a
message, not from the heavens, mystically, but——"
And here my speech had a sudden end, for Volmar, his face livid with
rage and fear, leapt from his seat, whipped out his sword, and flew upon
me with the ferocity of a wild beast. But that a stool stood between
us, a stumbling block to him in his fury, I had peradventure been
pierced to the heart or ever I could draw my own weapon. That obstacle
gave me a bare respite. My sword was out and met his clashing, and for
the space of five minutes we thrust and lunged, parried and riposted, in
the middle of the floor, over the table, by the mantel, in the corners,
as the stress of combat carried us. I had always the advantage of him
in that I was calm and master of myself, whereas he was drunken with
rage, maddened by hate, and desperately fearful of the gallows he had
set up for Jan Verhoeff. In mere swordsmanship he was not far from being
my equal; had he been in truth my equal, his skill might have prevailed
even over his fury. Suffice it to say that after a hot bout of some five
minutes I struck his sword from his hand, and pinning him down upon a
chair, with my blade at his throat, I bade him sternly give heed to
certain conditions on which I would spare his vile and wretched life.
[Illustration: PINNING HIM DOWN UPON A CHAIR, I BADE HIM STERNLY GIVE
HEED TO CERTAIN CONDITIONS ON WHICH I WOULD SPARE HIS LIFE]
These were, first, that he should write, at my dictation, a full
confession of his guilt and treasons, such as should at the same time
clear Jan Verhoeff from the accusation made against him. Second, that he
should quit the city that night by seven of the clock, and until then
keep within doors. The clemency of these conditions wondrously
astonished him; and perceiving that he was utterly at my mercy, he
accepted them without demur. Within an hour I had his confession,
sealed, in my pocket, together with the other papers in his hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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