Helmet of Navarre eBook

Bertha Runkle
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 423 pages of information about Helmet of Navarre.

Helmet of Navarre eBook

Bertha Runkle
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 423 pages of information about Helmet of Navarre.

My clinched fist dropped to my side.

“You never did me any harm,” he muttered.  “Howl till they think you half killed, and I’ll manage.”

I gaped at him, not knowing what to make of it.  But this is the way of the world; if there is much cruelty in it, there is much kindness, too.

“Here’s the cane, nom d’un chien!” Pierre exclaimed boisterously.  “Give it here, Jean; there’ll not be much of it left when I get through.”

“You’ll strip his coat off?” said the second lackey, from the oratory.

“My faith! no; I should kill him if I did, and the duke wants him,” Pierre retorted.  So without more ado the two men tied my wrists in front of me, and Jean held me by the knot while Pierre laid on.  And he, good fellow, grasping my collar, contrived to pull my loose jerkin away from my back, so that he dusted it down without greatly incommoding me.  Some hard whacks I did get, but they were nothing to what a strong man could have given in grim earnest.

I trust I could have taken a real flogging with as close lips as anybody, but if my kind succourer wanted howls, howls he should have.  I yelled and cowered and dodged about, to the roaring delight of Jean and his mate.  Indeed, I had drawn a crowd of grinning varlets to the door before my performance was over.  But at length, when I thought I had done enough for their pleasure and that of the nobles in the salon, I dropped down on the floor and lay quiet, with shut eyes.

“He has had his fill, I trow; we must not spoil him for the master,” Pierre said.

“Oh, he’ll come to in a minute,” another answered.  “Why, you have not even drawn blood, Pierre!” He laid his hand on my back, whereat I groaned my hollowest.

“It will be many a day before he cares to have his back touched,” laughed Pierre.  “Here, men, lend a hand.  Pardieu!  I wonder what Our Lady thinks of some of the devotees we bring her.”

As they lifted me he took my hand with an inquiring squeeze; and I squeezed back, grateful, if ever a boy was.  They flung me down on the oratory floor and left me there a prisoner.

I spent the next hour or so trying to undo the knot of my handcuff with my teeth; and failing that, to chew the stout rope in two.  I was minded as I worked of Lucas and his bonds, and wondered whether he had managed to rid himself of their inconvenience.  He went straightway, doubtless, to some confederate who cut them for him, and even now was planning fresh evil against the St. Quentins.  I remembered his face as he cried to M. le Comte that they should meet again; and I thought that M. Etienne was likely to have his hands full with Lucas, without this unlucky tanglement with Mlle. de Montluc.  In the darkness and solitude I called down a murrain on his folly.  Why could he not leave the girl alone?  There were other blue eyes in the world.  And it would be hard on humanity if there were none kindlier.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Helmet of Navarre from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.