The House of the Wolf: A RomanceWeyman, Stanley John
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The House of the Wolf: A Romance
Weyman, Stanley John
Saint Bartholomew's Day, Massacre of, France, 1572 -- Fiction
I was silent now, my mouth agape. There are seconds which are minutes;
ay, and many minutes. A man may die, a man may come into life in such
a second. In one of these, it seemed to me, those two men paused, face
to face; though in fact a pause was for one of them impossible. He was
between--and I think he knew it--the devil and the deep sea. Yet he
seemed to pause, while all, even that yelling crowd below, held their
breath. The next moment, glaring askance at one another like two dogs
unevenly coupled, he and Bezers shot shoulder to shoulder into the
doorway, and in another jot of time would have been out of sight. But
then, in that instant, I saw something happen. The Vidame's hand
flashed up above the priest's head, and the cross-hilt of his sheathed
sword crashed down with awful force, and still more awful passion, on
the other's tonsure! The wretch went down like a log, without a word,
without a cry! Amid a roar of rage from a thousand throats, a roar
that might have shaken the stoutest heart, and blanched the swarthiest
cheek, Bezers disappeared within!
It was then I saw the power of discipline and custom. Few as were the
troopers who had followed him--a mere handful--they fell without
hesitation on the foremost of the crowd, who were already in confusion,
stumbling and falling over their leader's body; and hurled them back
pell-mell along the gallery. The throng below had no firearms, and
could give no aid at the moment; the stage was narrow; in two minutes
the Vidame's people had swept it clear of the crowd and were in
possession of it. A tall fellow took up the priest's body, dead or
alive, I do not know which, and flung it as if it had been a sack of
corn over the rail. It fell with a heavy thud on the ground. I heard
a piercing scream that rose above that babel--one shrill scream! and
the mob closed round and hid the thing.
If the rascals had had the wit to make at once for the right-hand
stairs, where we stood with two or three of Bezers' men who had kept
their saddles, I think they might easily have disposed of us,
encumbered as we were, by the horses; and then they could have attacked
the handful on the gallery on both flanks. But the mob had no leaders,
and no plan of operations. They seized indeed two or three of the
scattered troopers, and tearing them from their horses, wreaked their
passion upon them horribly. But most of the Switzers escaped, thanks
to the attention the mob paid to the houses and what was going forward
on the galleries; and these, extricating themselves joined us one by
one, so that gradually a little ring of stern faces gathered about the
stair-foot. A moment's hesitation, and seeing no help for it, we
ranged ourselves with them; and, unchecked as unbidden, sprang on three
of the led horses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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