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The King's Esquires: The Jewel of France, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 16. The Next Morning |
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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE NEXT MORNING "Yes! Hallo! What is it?" Denis started up upon his left elbow, gazing in a confused way at a glistening oaken door. He was in a well-furnished room with tall narrow window through which the sun shone brightly, lighting up the furniture, and streaming across the bed in which he lay; but for some moments it did not light up his intellect, which was still oppressed with the impressions of a confused dream, half real, half imaginary, of chasing horses, being ridden down, fighting for life, and then galloping on and on all through the night, while as he stared at the door he was conscious of a heavy, dull, aching pain extending from his right hand right up his shoulder, and giving him sharp twinges every time he breathed. "Some one called," he thought to himself, and as the idea passed through his brain a pleasant-sounding voice said in English: "Breakfast directly. May I come in?" Then the door was thrown open, and a handsome, frank-looking English youth of about his own age came quickly forward into the sunshine, to stand gazing at the guest from the foot of the bed. "I hope you slept well?" he said eagerly. Denis looked at him admiringly, for there was something about the lad's face which attracted him. "Oh yes," he said--"Oh no. It has been all a troubled dream. I got hurt yesterday, and my arm throbs horribly." "Ah!" cried the new-comer. "I am very sorry. You are wounded?" "No; I was in a bit of a fight with a man on horseback." "You were? I wish I had been there!" cried the new-comer eagerly. "Well? did you beat him?" "I think so. He ran away. But I had my arm nearly wrenched out of the socket." "That's bad. You have had it seen to by a doctor, of course?" "Oh no. It will get well. But who are you?" "Oh, I'm Sir John Carrbroke's son Edward; but he always calls me Ned. I was so tired last night and slept so soundly that I didn't hear you and your friends come. Father woke me a little while ago and told me to come and see you and welcome you to the Pines. Glad to see you. You've just come from France, haven't you? But I needn't ask," continued the boy, smiling. "Anyone would know you were French." Denis flushed a little. "Of course I can't talk English like you," he said pettishly. "But you said something about breakfast." "Yes. It will be all waiting by the time you are dressed." "Then would you mind going--and--" "Oh yes, of course; I'll go. Only I wanted to see our new visitor, and--but you said your arm was all wrenched." "Yes. I have only a misty notion about how I managed to undress." "Of course. It must have been very hard. Here, I'll stop and help you." Denis protested, but the frank outspoken lad would not hear a word. "Nonsense," he said. "I shall help you. I know how. I am a sort of gentleman in waiting at the Court." "Indeed!" cried Denis, looking at him wonderingly. "Oh yes. I haven't been there long. My father used to be just the same with the late King, and that made him able to get me there. It's only the other day that I left the great school--a year ago, though; and now," he added, laughing, "I am going to be somebody big--King Harry's esquire--the youngest one there. I say, isn't it a nuisance to be only a boy?" "Oh no," said Denis, laughing, and quite taken by the friendly chatter of his new acquaintance. "One wants to grow up, of course; but I don't know that I ever felt like that." "Perhaps not," said his companion, busily helping him with his garments; "but then you see you're not at Court where there are a lot of fellows who have been there for a bit, ready to look down upon you just because you're new, and glare at you and seem ready to pick a quarrel and to fight if ever the King gives you a friendly nod or a smile.--No, no: I'll tie those points. Don't hurt your arm--but wait a bit.--I am young and inexperienced yet, and they're too much for me, but I am hard at it." He ceased speaking, but stood with his mouth pursed up, frowning, as he tied the points in question. "I see you are," said Denis, "playing servant to me; and it's very good of you, for my arm does feel very bad." "Good! Nonsense!" cried the lad merrily. "You'd do the same for me if I were visiting at your father's house, and crippled." "That couldn't be," said Denis sadly. "I have no father's house--he's dead." "Oh, I am sorry!" "He was a soldier, and died fighting for the King." "Hah!" said the other softly. "That's very pitiful; but," he added, with more animation, "it is very grand as well.--No, no, no: be quiet! I'm here, and what's the good of making your arm worse? You're a visitor; and you wouldn't like me to go away and send one of our fellows. I shall be a knight some day, I hope; and it's a knight's duty to fight, of course, but he ought to be able to help a wounded man. Now you're a wounded man and I'm going to help you, wash you and all, and I say, you want it too. You look as if you had been down in the dust. And what's this? Why, there's clay matted in the back of your neck!" "Well," said Denis, smiling, "I am such a cripple I can't help myself, and so I must submit." "Of course you must. I'll feed you too, if you like, by-and-by." "But what did you mean," said Denis, to change the conversation, as he smilingly yielded himself to the busy helpful hands of his new friend. "What did I mean? Why, to help you." "No, no; I meant about those fellows riding roughshod over you and wanting to pick quarrels." "Oh, I see. I meant, I'm waiting my time. Can you fence--use a sword well?" "Not very, but I'm practising hard." "Are you? So am I. We've got a French _maitre d'armes_ at Court, and he's helping me and teaching me all he knows. He's splendid! He likes me because I work so hand, and pats me on the back, and calls me 'grand garcon' and dear pupil. Ah, he's a wonder. Only he makes me feel so stupid. He's like one of those magician fellows when you cross swords with him. Yes, it's just like magic; for when he likes he can make his long thin blade twist and twine about yours as if it were a snake and all alive; and before you know where you are it tightens round, and then _twit, twang_, yours is snatched out of your hand and gone flying across the room, making you feel as helpless as a child. Ah, you don't know what it is to feel like that. I say, hold still. How am I to wipe you? That's better." "But I do know what it is to feel like that," cried Denis, as soon as he could get his face free from the white linen cloth his new friend was handling with great dexterity. "You do?" cried the latter. "What, have you got a _maitre d'armes_ over where you came from?" "Yes, and he's here in this house now. You should have seen him in a desperate fight we had last night against about a score--" "Of the road outlaws coming through the forest?" "Yes, and they attacked us." "And you got away." Denis nodded. "My word! You were lucky!" "It was through my fencing master," said Denis warmly, as his dressing was hurried on. "He can do all you say when he's teaching; and when he fights as he did last night--" "Oh, I do wish that I had been there!" "--his point seems everywhere at once." "That's the sort of man I love," cried the English lad excitedly, and he gave his visitor so hearty a slap on the shoulder that Denis changed colour and reeled. "Oh, what have I done!" cried the lad, catching him in his arms and hurriedly lowering him into a settee, before fetching him water in a silver cup and holding it to his lips.--"Feel better now?" he said. "Oh yes, it's nothing. Don't laugh at me, please. I turned faint like a great silly girl. You touched the tenderest place, where my arm was hurt, and--" "Denis, boy! May I come in?" "Yes, yes," said the lad faintly. "Come in. Carrbroke, this is Master Leoni, the gentleman who handles his sword so well." "I am glad to know you, sir," said the youth, drawing himself up and welcoming with courtly grace the slight, keen-looking, elderly man whose strange, penetrating eyes seemed to be searching him through and through. "I am so sorry that I was asleep when you came last night. I was helping my father's visitor just now, and I am afraid I have hurt him a great deal. His shoulder is hurt, and he tells me that it has not been treated by a leech." "Hurt?" cried Leoni, speaking quickly. "I did not know of this. Why did you not tell me last night?" "Oh, I didn't think," said Denis. "I had enough to do to sit my horse and manage to get here; and," added the lad lightly, "I thought that it would be better." "Ah," said Master Leoni quietly, "let me see." And he looked at the boy fixedly with that curious hard stare of the left eye which Denis never could explain. "Oh no; I'm nearly dressed now, and breakfast is waiting." "How did this happen?" said Leoni, paying no heed to the lad's words. "Sit still, boy, and tell me everything at once." Denis gave a hurried narrative of his encounter, and his listeners eagerly grasped every word. "I see," said Leoni gravely. "Your blade must have passed through the ruffian, and been held long enough by the muscles for you to receive a horrible wrench. There, set your teeth, and if I hurt you try and bear it. I will be as gentle as I can." A rapid examination followed, and then the carefully educated fingers ceased their task, and Leoni spoke again as he drew a white kerchief from his pouch and gently wiped his patient's moistened brow. "There is nothing wrong," he said, "but a bad strain at the tendons, and of course the slightest touch gives great suffering. I will return directly. I am only going to my room for something that will lull that pain, and nature will do the rest." He nodded gravely to both the lads, and passed quickly from the room, while as the door closed the young Englishman said eagerly: "I like him. He seems to know a deal. But you said that he was a _maitre d'armes_." "He's everything," said Denis with a faint laugh--"_chirurgien_, statesman--oh, I can't tell you all. Oh, how he hurt me, though! If you hadn't been here I believe I should have shrieked." "Not you," cried the other. "I was watching, and I saw how you set your teeth. Why, if he had pulled your arm off you wouldn't have said a word. I say, I wish you were English." "Why?" said Denis wonderingly. "Oh, I don't know," said the other rather confusedly, "only I seem to like a fellow who can act like that." "Then because I am French you feel as if you couldn't like me?" "That I don't!" replied the lad bluffly. "Because I do like you, and I'm glad you've come. I say, can you shake hands?" "Like the English?" said Denis. "Of course." "Oh, I did not mean that," said the other. "Of course I know that you fellows embrace; but I meant about your arm. Can you shake hands without its hurting? Because we always do it with our right." "Try," said Denis, smiling, as, passing his left hand under his wrist, he softly raised the injured limb, and the next moment the two lads seemed to seal the beginning of a long friendship in a warm, firm pressure, which had not ended when they became conscious that the door had softly opened and Master Leoni was standing there, a dark, peculiar-looking, living picture in an oaken frame, an inscrutable-looking smile upon his lips and his eyes half closed. The blood flushed to the cheeks of both the lads, as the young Englishman tightened his grip and stood firm, while without appearing to have noticed the lads' action, Leoni came forward, and they saw that he had a little silver _flacon_ in his hand. "Feel faint now, Denis?" he said. "Oh no," was the reply. "That passed away at once. Is that what you have been to fetch?" "Yes," said Leoni, smiling, "and you need not think that I am going to give you drops in water such as will make you shudder. I am only going to moisten this linen pad and lay it beneath your waistcoat. I believe it will quite dull the pain. There," he said, a few minutes later, after carefully securing the moistened linen so that it should not slip, and fastening the lad's doublet to his throat, "it feels better now, does it not?" "Better?" said Denis with a low hiss, and speaking through his teeth. "Why, it's as if a red-hot point was boring through my shoulder." "Yes," said Leoni, smiling; "and that's a good sign. In another minute you will not feel the same. Come, Master Carrbroke, let us both finish dressing our patient and get him to his breakfast." "Oh, I couldn't have believed it," cried Denis, five minutes later. "Master Carrbroke--" "Ned," said the young man correctively. "Ned always to my friends." "Ned, then," said Denis warmly; "once more, this is Master Leoni, and you ought to make him one, for you never before met such a man as he." _ |
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