The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of FranceFenn, George Manville
History
The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of France
Fenn, George Manville
France -- History -- Francis I, 1515-1547 -- Fiction
"There hasn't been time for him to get to here, for the horses were only
walking," he argued to himself, and then with sinking heart, "Oh!" he
ejaculated, half aloud. "Perhaps it was only my mistake. I jumped at
the conclusion that it was the man we saw."
There was nothing for it but to continue along the lane till he met
Saint Simon, and then he felt that they must go back to the inn and
rouse people to a pursuit.
He began running at a gentle trot now, to husband his strength for what
might come, when all at once his heart seemed to give a violent leap and
then stand still; for coming round a bend he caught sight of the black,
heavily maned head of the King's horse, and then of the soft, pointed
cap of the horse-dealer whom he had credited with the theft.
He was not looking forward, but bending over to his right, evidently
doing something to the rein of another horse he was leading--Denis's
own--while, in the middle of the three abreast, he was mounted on Saint
Simon's. The three horses were fully in sight some fifty yards away,
just as the man sat up again and began to urge them on from their walk,
when he suddenly caught sight of Denis in the act of drawing his sword
in the middle of the lane to bar his way.
The effect was to make him pull up short, and then with a cry to the
horses he swung them round and set off back at a canter, to disappear
round the bend directly after, with Denis running far in his rear.
"Now," panted the lad, "if Saint Simon has only done his work we have
him between us." And he tried to utter a prolonged whistle, which he
hoped might reach his charger's ear; but he had not breath to give more
than the faintest call.
"Oh, if I could only run ten times as fast!" he groaned. "I know what
he'll do. He will get them into a gallop, and ride my poor comrade
down. If I were only at his side! And I seem to crawl!"
But he was running pretty fast, though to his misery he heard the dull
_thud, thud_ of the cantering horses grow fainter and fainter till it
seemed to die right away.
"Sim's let them pass him," he groaned piteously. "_No_! No! No!" he
literally yelled. "They are coming back! Saint Simon's turned them,
and it will be my chance after all."
For still invisible, after the thudding of the hoofs had quite died out,
the sounds came again; then louder, louder, and louder still, coming
nearer and nearer, till all at once the noble animals swept into sight
again round the curving lane, galloping excited and snorting, Saint
Simon's horse right in the centre being urged forward by the rider,
while the other two hung away right and left to the full extent of their
reins. While perfectly unconscious of his peril, thinking of nothing
but checking the headlong gallop, the lad stood with extended blade
right in the middle of the lane.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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