Won By the Sword : a tale of the Thirty Years' War. Henty George Alfred
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falling as quickly as ever, and the wind blowing fiercely.
“There is no fear of their seeing us, unless we happen to run into the very arms of the sentry,” Hector said encouragingly; “we shall only have the moat to swim; and as, according to the plan, it is nothing like so wide as that we passed before, we shall have no trouble with it.”
“Ah! here it is,” Paolo groaned.
“Nonsense!” Hector said. “One cold bath more or less makes no difference now. There, give me your coat again, and I will take it over.”
The moat was indeed but some twelve yards across, and in two or three minutes Paolo stood shivering on the other side.
“The edge is not far from the wall, not much more than the breadth of the moat. Give me the cord.”
A few steps and they reached the wall. After two attempts the hook caught, and Hector climbed up. He was looking back to watch Paolo when he was suddenly seized from behind, and a deep voice in Italian said, “If you move I will kill you. Who are you?”
With a sudden effort Hector twisted himself round and seized the disengaged wrist of his opponent, which he doubted not held a dagger. The man loosened his hold of his doublet and tried to grasp his neck, but Hector in a moment leapt forward and threw his arm round the man’s waist. They wrestled backwards and forwards, but the soldier was a powerful man, and Hector found that he could not long retain a grasp of his wrist. Suddenly he felt his antagonist collapse; the dagger dropped from his hand, the other arm relaxed its hold, and he fell a lifeless mass.
“Thank you, Paolo. You were but just in time. The fellow was too strong for me. Now let us slip down the inside of the wall as quickly as possible.”
A minute later they both stood at the foot of the wall, the hook was shaken off, and they proceeded along the wall until they came to a street.
“It is not more than two or three hundred yards to the outer wall,” Hector whispered.
Whether there were sentinels or not in the street they knew not. If so, they had withdrawn themselves into deep doorways to avoid the blinding snow, and the wind drowned the slight sound made by their feet on the soft snow.
In a short time they reached the outer wall, crept along it until they found the steps leading up, crossed it in safety, fixed their hook, and rapidly descended. A run of fifty yards brought them to the edge of the river bank.
“We will try to find a boat,” Hector said. “There are sure to be some along here.”
They walked across the dry bed of the river till they reached the water’s edge, and then followed this. In a few minutes, to their delight, they came upon a boat. The bow was hauled a few feet out of water, and a rope, doubtless attached to a heavy stone anchor, stretched from its bows. This they cut, put their shoulders to the gunwale, and soon had her afloat. Then they scrambled in, put the oars out cautiously, and began to row. Both had had some practice at the exercise, and it was not long before the boat grounded on the opposite shore.
“Pull it up a bit,” Hector said. “No doubt it belongs to some poor fisherman to whom its loss would be serious. Now we must keep along the bank for some distance, until quite sure that we are well beyond any patrols the enemy may have on the road. Let us get into a run, Paolo, and see if we can’t get our blood in motion again, for I own that I feel half frozen.”
They set off at a brisk trot, which they kept up for half an hour, and then they struck off from the river and soon found the road. Following this, after an hour’s walking they came upon a little shed by the roadside, and in one corner found a pile of old sacks.
“We are in luck again!” Hector exclaimed joyfully. “Tired as I am, I don’t think that I could have slept in these wet clothes, if one can call them wet—at present they are frozen stiff. These sacks are the very thing. We can strip now and wring out our clothes thoroughly. There are enough sacks here to lay under us and cover us too. After wringing out the shirts we will put them in under the sacks next to us. The heat of our bodies will dry them to some extent, and they will be warm to put on in the morning. The other things we can pile over us. There is no chance of their getting dry; but I am so pleased with our success that I am not disposed to grumble at trifles.”
CHAPTER V: THE RELIEF OF THE CITADEL
As soon as the first gleam of daylight showed itself Hector and his companion were on their feet again.
The operation of dressing was by no means a comfortable one, for the frost had set in in earnest during the night, and their clothes, with the exception of the shirts, were as stiff as boards. The snow had ceased and the sky was clear.
“It is going to be a fine day, master,” Paolo said as they left the hut.
“That is better than battling with a snowstorm such as that of yesterday evening. Come on, Paolo, let us trot for a bit. The snow is four inches deep, and we shall soon get warm running through it.”
In a quarter of an hour they broke into a walk again, panting from their exertions.
“I am as warm as a toast now, Paolo. There is a village half a mile ahead. I expect that lies on the road. The sun will be up before we get there, and no doubt we shall be able to get some hot spiced wine and some bread at a wineshop.”
This turned out to be the case. They had settled what story to tell; and when the landlord asked what brought them there so early, Paolo said that they had been on the road a couple of hours, as they were going to see an aunt who was ill at Chivasso, and their father wanted them back again that night. The explanation satisfied the host and he asked no further questions, and in ten minutes they were on their way again, greatly warmed and comforted by their meal, and after walking for another hour and a half they arrived at the bridge of Chivasso. There was a strong guard at the bridge head, for at any moment the garrison of Turin, aided by a force from Leganez’s army, might endeavour to carry the town by a sudden assault. The lads passed the bridge unquestioned, entered the gate of the town, and made their way to the commandant’s house.
“What do you want?” the sentry at the door asked as they came up.
The regiment was French, and Hector answered at once:
“We want to see the governor, we have important news for him.”
The soldier was greatly surprised, for he had not expected his question to be understood by these peasant boys.
“Sergeant,” he called out, “here are two peasant boys who speak French. They want to see the governor, and say that they have news of importance to give him.”
A sergeant came out.
“Sergeant,” Hector went on quietly, “you will please tell the governor that the two persons he sent out under an escort the evening before last, wish to see him.”
By the tone of assurance in which the lad spoke, rather than by his words, the sergeant saw that there was something more than appeared on the surface, and at once took up the message. He returned almost immediately. “Please to follow me,” he said, and led the way up to the governor’s room.
“Welcome back again, Monsieur Campbell! You have returned sooner than I expected. You found, of course, that the difficulties were insuperable?”
“On the contrary, sir, we have been successful, and have communicated with the garrison of the citadel.”
“You have!” the governor exclaimed in astonishment. “How on earth did you manage it? I heard that the watch was so strict that it was absolutely impossible for a message to be sent through.”
“It was not very difficult after all, and we were greatly favoured by the snowstorm.” He then gave an account of how they had managed it.
“Pardieu!” he exclaimed, “that was admirably done; but I am keeping you talking while you are sitting in your wet clothes.”
“I think they are quite dry now, sir; and we have walked so fast that we are both thoroughly warm. Still, I own that I shall not be sorry to change them for my own.”
The governor rose and opened