The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIVDickson, Harris
History
The black wolf's breed : $b A story of France in the Old world and the New, happening in the reign of Louis XIV
Dickson, Harris
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
I walked up closer to him, and forced him to loose his coat that I
might find the papers, and was rewarded by the discovery of a packet,
much similar to that dropped by Yvard. It was sealed in such a manner
it could not be opened, and bore no address. I removed the dagger from
his hip, and having, as I thought, completely disarmed him, felt no
further uneasiness. The man was thoroughly cowed, and never once
raised his eyes to mine. Verily treason doth rob the stoutest heart of
half its courage.
"Now do as I bid you, and I will keep my promise to let you go. And
mind that you make not the slightest sound which may attract the
soldiers."
"Ah, you fear the soldiers too?" he asked, vaguely trying to puzzle out
why I should be afraid of those in whose service I was.
"It is not to our purpose to talk. I simply want the credit myself,
and do not want to share it with those fellows out there. We must work
to leave this place at once. Do you stand where you are."
I gathered up the scattered weapons and piled them all in one corner,
farthest from the door, where I now proposed to set about getting free.
With the fearful blight of uncovered treason in his soul, Broussard
obeyed me cringingly as a servant, and worked as hard, for his safety
lay in mine. We went first to the door by which we entered, and after
a tedious examination failed to find any means by which it could be
opened or broken down. A stout latch, of some pattern we could not
tell, held it fast from the outside. There was no catch or fastening
of any sort within. The age-hardened oak, studded as it was with
heavily wrought nails, forbade the plan of cutting through. This would
require days and days of patient labor, and I was already faint from
lack of food and the exhaustion of the night. Plainly the room was
intended for a prison, and as such it served well its purpose. Baffled
and disheartened I turned my thought to the window. It looked out upon
the street; this was so much in my favor. The irons that guarded it
were close set, bending out toward the street in the shape of a bow. I
judged this was in order that archers stationed there might shoot the
more easily into the street in times of siege.
I could have reached this without trouble, but I desired to employ
Broussard, that I might know where he was and prevent treachery. For
that double purpose I reached up and grasped the sill, commanding him
to catch me about the knees and lift so I might see out. This he did.
While in that position he made a pretense of shifting his hold, and
something impelled me to glance downward at him. He was stealthily
drawing a concealed knife from his bosom. I threw all my weight back
upon him, casting the twain of us together to the floor. Meantime he
had the knife full drawn, in his left hand held at my breast.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account