THE CHARM OF THE OLD WORLD ROMANCES – Premium 10 Book Collection. Robert Barr
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to the front of the house, where they found the bowman fully accoutred, sitting with his back against the wall, his head inclined on one shoulder, sound asleep. The moonlight shone upon him, and he snored gently.
"His peaceful slumber is certainly a mark of confidence in his host. Blessed is he who can sleep when he wills," said the Emperor, looking down upon him. "If the fellow's skill at all equals his boasting, I might do worse than send him to Frankfort, to instruct a band of archers that would give good account of themselves in time of trouble."
"To whom in Frankfort could you send him, and whom should the bowman name as his sponsor when he arrived there? If he said he was sent by a worthy merchant in Treves, I doubt if he would receive much attention when his journey was completed."
"That is true," returned Rodolph. "I fear I must part company with him when we have fed him. Still I should like to see some sample of his skill before we dismiss him."
"That is easily tested if he does not shrink from the trial. On the other side of the river I see rising and flying further up first one heron, and then another, from which I surmise that my rascal is working his way homeward in the skiff along the further shore, where the current is slackest. He seems to be disturbing the birds and so this some time back I have noted his slow progress. If our archer can wing you one of these long-legged fowls, we may well believe he could have surprised the sentinel."
"Hey, bowman," continued the Baron, stirring up the sleeper with his foot, "I hear my servant coming and we will be in presently. But first we would like to hear the hum of your bow-string, if your skill has not deserted you since you had sinister designs on the sentinel above the gate."
The archer had sprung to his feet, wide-awake, the moment he felt a touch upon his body.
"You can hardly expect me to bring down a man on Treves' wall from here," he said, casting his eye toward the city. "My shaft does not live in the air longer than one may slowly count a score. Nevertheless I am willing to try, although I cannot guarantee a pleasurable result."
"We set no such impossibility before the strength of your weapon; what we desire——"
"Nay, I spoke not of impossibility, but of surety," interrupted the archer. "I can throw you an arrow high in the air and can guarantee that it will fall within Treves or not far short of it, but to say definitely that it will hit such and such a button in a man's doublet at that distance, would be wild prophecy, for you cannot predict the home-coming of a descending shaft, from which, as it were, the life and vigour of it has departed, as you can the unerringness of an arrow sped horizontally, retaining the message given to it by thumb and fingers until it reaches the person to whom admonition is thus forwarded through its agency."
While he spoke the archer had unwound the cloak from the bow and now he strung the weapon with anxious care, after which he plucked a shaft from the quiver that hung at his back.
"There are herons rising ever and anon from yonder bank. The darkness of the cliff somewhat obscures them, and they hang not out against the sky like your soldier on the wall. Nevertheless the moon shines fairly on them and the distance is less, so I beg of you to show us your skill upon the body of the next that comes between us and the rocks."
"Now the Fiend fry me on his gridiron," cried the archer, glancing at the opposite cliffs, "I would rather shoot you ten soldiers than one bird flapping through the air, for that asks of a bowman the measuring of the distance the heron will advance from the time the arrow leaves the string until it coincides with its quarry, the which renders necessary also the nice adjustment by the eye of the space between myself and the bird, a difficult enough task in broad day, causing such a venture in the night to mix more blind chance with marksmanship than any one not versed in necromancy should be called upon to endure."
"So this is the outcome of your bragging!" cried the Baron, already angered by the absence of his servant. "You well knew we would allow no shots at a soldier and so you boasted safely. When a fair mark is offered you, then come excuses and the making of conditions. I have a mind, braggart, to lay my sword across your back, or rather a stout cudgel which would better accord with your condition."
The archer stepped rapidly away from them at this threat and said, with arrow still notched on the string:
"If you meditate any such breach of a hospitality which I accepted at your proffer, and not of my own seeking, I would tell you first that I am a free man, formal engagement having been refused by you, so keep your cudgels for your laggard who deserves them, as standing thus by his delay between a hungry man and his meat; while secondly I would inform you that on the attempt at my chastisement, seeing the same is unmerited, I would first put this shaft through you and then its mate into the middle of your comrade, before he could lift foot to help you, and neither of you would complain of any inaccuracy of aim, swift as the shafts would follow each other. So advance one or both at your peril."
"Tush, tush," cried the Emperor, "no one will molest you. While you chatter the heron escapes. There is one rising even now and will vanish like his companions unscathed."
The archer turned quickly to the north, his bow hanging almost horizontally in his left hand. He seemed in no hurry to shoot, but watched the bird beating the air heavily with its huge wings, its long legs trailing behind, making seemingly slow and laborious motion across the moonlit face of the opposite cliff. Suddenly the archer, having to his satisfaction measured the distance with his eye, straightened himself, lifted his bow to the perpendicular, drew back the string to his right ear, and apparently taking no aim, let fly the shaft into the night. He leaned forward, trying to watch its flight, but none saw the arrow after it left the bow. The heron, however, with a cry of affright, plunged downward, and whirled over and over until it struck the water with a splash.
"Nevertheless," said the archer, in a dissatisfied tone, "'tis no fair test, and is, like enough, pure accident."
"It is a marvellous shot," cried the Emperor, with enthusiasm, "and such art is wondrous cheap at threepence a day."
"With lodgment and provender," added the archer, once more unstringing his bow.
"Here, if your pouch has no hole in the bottom of it, is three months' pay, which will not come amiss in your journey down the Moselle."
"I thank your Lordship," said the man, taking the money with great readiness, "this is more to my liking than offers of cudgelling."
"And when you hear that the Emperor has returned to Frankfort I would strongly advise you to go thither, for he is a lover of good qualities wherever found. As for the offer of cudgelling, 'twas but a jest, or at most the outcome of the delay of our custodian."
"Here he is," said the Baron. "I think he will speedily regret his absence."
Across the moonlit river, in a small boat that drifted sideways rapidly in the swift current, a man rowed with sturdy strokes. The two who awaited him stood silently on the bank and watched his approach. The archer had already seated himself with his back to the wall, and was snatching a moment's repose.
As the boatman ceased rowing and allowed his craft to float down to its harbour, the Baron said sternly:
"Get inside as speedily as you may and undo the door. Then I will have a word with you."
A few moments later there was a rattle of chains and bolts, the door was thrown open, and gave the visitors a glimpse of a young man with white face and trembling limbs.
CHAPTER III.
LISTENERS HEAR LITTLE GOOD OF THEMSELVES.
"Come, archer," said the Baron, "arouse yourself. I have work for you to do."
"Not before the meal, I hope," objected the man, rising to his feet.
"Yes; but it will not detain you long, and the supper shall be spread before your sight, to quicken your hand."
They entered a lower room, long and narrow, meagrely furnished, containing