Read Ebook: The Crimson Sign A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of Foot by Keightley S R Samuel Robert

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Ebook has 1266 lines and 98551 words, and 26 pages

Then he fell into a profound sleep. When he awoke the sunshine filled the valley, and Macpherson was standing over him with a smile on his rugged face.

"Is it time to march?" cried Gervase.

"It is time to be up and doing," Macpherson answered solemnly. "This day will try of what stuff the Lord hath made your sinews and fashioned your heart. Yonder is the enemy."

Gervase leapt hastily from his resting-place. Already the men were in their saddles and were examining the priming of their carbines. Far down the valley he could see a small body of horse, the sunshine glancing on their swords and steel head-pieces, and the dust rising thickly under the hoofs of the chargers. A little in advance were riding two officers, one of whom rode a grey horse and was conspicuous by the scarlet cloak he wore over his armour.

Gervase watched Macpherson with surprise and admiration. The old soldier seemed like another man under the inspiration of the coming struggle; his eyes flashed, his chest heaved, and his deep strong voice thrilled like a trumpet. Leaping like a youth into his saddle and laying his hand lightly for a moment on the restive charger?s neck, he drew his sword from the scabbard. Then he placed himself across the road in front of the troopers and pointed with his sword to the enemy, who had already quickened their pace and were advancing at a sharp trot.

"Yon are Galmoy?s Horse, gentlemen. They are nearly three to one, and I am told they can fight. What say ye?"

Already the troopers had caught the joyous spirit of their grim leader; his voice stirred them like a trumpet. They had caught the contagion of his hope, his faith, and his enthusiasm.

"We are doing God?s work, sir," said Sergeant Hackett soberly, as he gathered up his reins and drew his hat tightly over his brow. "We will follow you, Captain Macpherson, even to the mouth of the pit. Not one of us will fail you."

"Then we will show the butchers what we can do. Remember, let 'no quarter? be our word this day. Do not crowd together until we have drawn their fire. Then give them a salvo steadily, and like brave men and careful. Thereafter in God?s name, let them feel the sword?s edge and the power of the true religion."

Macpherson had risen in his stirrups, his face glowing with the joy of battle. Already the enemy had shortened the distance between them, and a few minutes more would bring them within pistol shot. They could already hear the heavy trampling of the horses as they came galloping up the hill, the jingling of the bridles and the clank of the swords. As the little troop swept up the hillside it made a gallant show. Gervase felt his heart beat fast and loud; his hand trembled with excitement on the hilt of his sword, and his breath came quick. He found himself longing with feverish impatience for the word to charge, but Macpherson kept his men well in hand, trying their temper, and watching them narrowly like a wary soldier. Not a man showed sign of fear or indecision.

"You are a young soldier, Mr. Orme," said Macpherson, with a joyous laugh, "and young soldiers are ever rash and heedless. Let us give yon sons of Belial time to think of what they do. You will feel in good time the thirst to trample down and slay, and the Devil driving you to rend and to destroy. Wait till they come to where the road widens into the marsh. Yon fellow rides like a gallant gentleman--a Frenchman too, I think, and knows his work. Ha! here they come. Now, my children, follow me, and may God defend his cause this day!"

Macpherson put spurs to his horse, and his troopers followed in an orderly array at a hard gallop.

It was clear the enemy was uncertain as to their intentions, for immediately Macpherson had put his horse in motion, they drew up short and halted. But still the little troop kept on steadily, riding two abreast along the narrow road, and holding their carbines in readiness to fire. The young officer on the grey charger had thrown off his scarlet cloak, and was giving directions to his men with the point of his sword. Several of the troopers had dismounted and lined the roadside where a fence of loose stones presented a sort of low screen, or parapet.

"Now, my gallant fellows, fire! Aim at the horses and let every shot tell."

For an instant, as it seemed, the little troop stood fast, and orderly as on parade, took aim and fired. Several horses went down, and for a minute all was confusion and disorder in the royal ranks.

That minute was the turning tide of battle. With a wild shout and a deep oath, Macpherson waved his sword above his head and gave the charge. Instinctively Gervase drove his spurs into his horse?s flanks, and grasped the hilt of his sword with a tighter clutch. In another moment he was in the middle of the red-coats and almost without knowing how it was done, he saw his blade buried in the body of the dragoon who had first encountered him. As in a dream he saw the man catch convulsively at the horse?s mane and fall in a heap to the ground. Macpherson was at his side, hammering on sword and head-piece. His voice could be heard above the clank and clash of steel and the shouts of the fighting men. "No quarter to the men of Belial. Strike home for the true religion. God?s wounds! you must have it."

Two troopers had thrown themselves across his path; one he had charged so violently that his horse had stumbled and gone down, crushing his rider; the other parried his thrust and then turned to flee. But his doom was on him. Down came the deadly steel on the iron head-piece. Nothing could withstand that blow, but the sword was shivered at the hilt.

"The curse of Heaven light on the hand that fashioned thee!" cried Macpherson, hurling the hilt from him and drawing his pistol from the holster. His men followed close upon his heels, hacking and hewing with their heavy swords. No man failed in his duty that day.

Gervase saw the young officer before him gallantly striving to rally his men, and imploring them to stand. Quick as thought their swords were crossed, and Gervase saw his eyes light up with inexpressible hate. "Ah! canaille," he cried, "you will see at least how a gentleman can fight."

It was not a time for nice tricks of fence, and Gervase saw in a moment that his opponent was a more skilful swordsman than himself. He saw the flash of his opponent?s blade and felt the warm blood streaming down his face, but he did not give him time to repeat the blow. Throwing himself upon him he caught him round the neck, and together they fell to the ground. It was indeed a miracle how they escaped beneath the hoofs of the trampling horses as they grappled with one another in the dust. Then the tide of battle swept past them, and they were left alone to fight it out. But the delicate Frenchman was no match for the stout young giant whose arms were as strong as an oak sapling. Gervase placed his knee upon his breast, and wrenched the sword from his hand.

"It is enough, Monsieur; I yield myself prisoner."

Gervase leapt to his feet and reached out his hand to assist his prisoner from the ground. But the other refused the proffered courtesy, and when he had risen, nonchalantly began to arrange his disordered dress, and to brush the dust from his clothes with an embroidered handkerchief. "Your arms, monsieur, are very strong, but I do not understand the fashion of your country. We do not fight thus in France. It is my regret that you should not see the end of this gallant affair."

There was a covert sneer in the tone that there was no mistaking.

"I have seen the beginning and the end, sir," Gervase said simply. "Your men do not seem to relish the fare we have provided for them."

"My men are not soldiers; they are poltroons. Let us dismiss them. May I inquire into whose hands it has been my good fortune to fall?"

"My name, sir, is Gervase Orme, sometime ensign in Mountjoy?s regiment, and now in arms for the Protestant religion and the liberties of the kingdom. I am very much at your service."

"You are very good, but Victor de Laprade, whom men call Vicomte of that name, seeks favour from none. I think," he continued, looking down the road along which the pursuit had rolled, "we are likely to be better acquainted."

"It is not to be doubted, sir: the skirmish is over and your men are wholly broken."

"Nay, Luttrel was a brave man; I am sorry for him, but the rest--let them go."

The moment that the Vicomte de Laprade had gone down in Gervase?s grasp, the dragoons had broken and fled, followed hard by Macpherson and his troop. The pursuers were in no mood to give quarter that day. The atrocities of Galmoy some time before had filled their hearts with a thirst for vengeance; it was a sacred duty not to spare, but to slay, and slay without remorse or pity. Far down the road thundered the headlong flight, pursuers and pursued mingled together. De Laprade had seated himself on the fence by the roadside, and watched without apparent interest the incidents of the pursuit. It was impossible to tell from his face what his real feelings might have been.

Macpherson came up, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

"I saw you go down," he said to Gervase, "and feared it was all over with you. I should have been sorry to my dying day, for you have shown the right soldier spirit,--you have been touched?"

"A mere scratch, but we have gained a great success."

"A pretty affair. What popinjay have we yonder?" and he pointed to De Laprade.

"One of King James?s new French gentlemen," said Gervase smiling, "who is the first captive of my bow and spear."

"One of the accursed race," said Macpherson grimly. "And the message hath come to me; 'no quarter,? was our word this day. His blood be upon his own head." He drew his pistol from the holster, and dismounted from his horse. Gervase saw the deep gloom gather on his brow.

"What would you do?" Gervase cried, catching his arm and placing himself between his Captain and the Vicomte. "In God?s name, you do not mean to say that you would slay him in cold blood?"

"In cold blood, no, but in righteous vengeance for the evil that hath been wrought upon our people. Do you forget Dixie and Charleton? I have taken a vow before the Lord this day that not one of them shall escape me. The blood of Abel is crying from the ground, and shall I, the least of his servants, suffer that cry to go unheard?"

"While I live you shall not injure one hair of his head. The lessons that you have learned in the school of Turenne we will not practise here. No prisoner shall be slain in cold blood while Gervase Orme can wield a sword to defend him."

Macpherson turned away and replaced his pistol in the holster without a word, and stooping down began to examine the forelegs of his charger. While this scene was being enacted on which his life depended, the Vicomte continued sitting upon the fence, flicking the dust from his riding boots with his handkerchief and smiling an easy smile of apparent indifference. He seemed to be the only one who had no interest in the issue of the quarrel. Then he rose, and going over to Gervase held out his hand.

"However you may yet decide this trivial affair," he said, "I thank you for your courtesy. I declined to take your hand; I beg your pardon. You are a brave man and a gentleman. But it is a matter of regret that you should quarrel with your friend on my poor account."

"There is no quarrel, sir," said Macpherson, who had overheard his words, raising himself to his full height, and looking steadily as he spoke. "This young gentleman was right, and I was wrong. He had given you quarter, which matter he may yet live to repent, and you were under his protection by the laws of war. I might have shot you down in the melee but I left him to deal with you. He hath seen good to spare your life, and in your presence, sir, I now ask his pardon, which will not be denied me."

"I cannot pardon where there is no offence, Captain Macpherson," said Gervase. "It was my good fortune to fight on the side that can afford protection, and had it been otherwise I am certain that M. de Laprade would have rendered me the like service."

"Be assured I shall afford you what you are pleased to call your entertainment. And now may I ask whither you purpose to carry me?"

"We shall carry you, sir, as far as Enniskillen, and, mayhap, if you so desire it back to Londonderry."

"I have no desires; I have learnt the uses of adversity."

"Then you have learnt the last lesson a man can learn," answered Macpherson, abruptly turning on his heel, and joining Hackett who was looking after one of the men who had been wounded.

The skirmish had in every sense been a complete success. Only one man had been slightly, and another severely wounded, and these raw and undisciplined yeomen had shown a wonderful steadiness and gallantry. When the horses of the dragoons had been collected, for Macpherson believed in gathering the fruits of victory, they were ready to start on the march.

"The prisoner is in your charge, Sergeant Hackett," he said. "Shoot him through the head if he tries to run away."

De Laprade shrugged his shoulders. "Bah!" he said, "your Captain eats fire. Whither would he have me run?"

"Not outside the reach of my carbine," said Hackett drily.

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