But Quentin had heard words of comfort, and, exerting his strength, he suddenly shook off both the finishers of the law, and, with his arms still bound, ran to the Scottish Archer. "Stand by me, countryman," he said in his own language, "for the love of Scotland and Saint Andrew! I am innocent – I am your own native landsman. Stand by me, as you shall answer at the last day!"
"By Saint Andrew! they shall make at you through me," said the Archer, and unsheathed his sword.
"Cut my bonds, countryman," said Quentin, "and I will do something for myself."
This was done with a touch of the Archer's weapon; and the liberated captive, springing suddenly on one of the Provost's guard, wrested from him a halberd with which he was armed; "And now," he said, "come on, if you dare!"
The two officers whispered together.
"Ride thou after the Provost-Marshal," said Trois-Eschelles, "and I will detain them here, if I can. – Soldiers of the Provost's guard, stand to your arms."
Petit-André mounted his horse and left the field, and the other Marshals-men in attendance drew together so hastily at the command of Trois-Eschelles, that they suffered the other two prisoners to make their escape during the confusion. Perhaps they were not very anxious to detain them; for they had of late been sated with the blood of such wretches, and, like other ferocious animals, were, through long slaughter, become tired of carnage. But the pretext was, that they thought themselves immediately called upon to attend to the safety of Trois-Eschelles; for there was a jealousy, which occasionally led to open quarrels betwixt the Scottish Archers and the Marshal-guards, who executed the orders of their Provost.
"We are strong enough to beat the proud Scots twice over, if it be your pleasure," said one of these soldiers to Trois-Eschelles.
But that cautious official made a sign to him to remain quiet, and addressed the Scottish Archer with great civility. "Surely, sir, this is a great insult to the Provost-Marshal, that you should presume to interfere with the course of the King's justice, duly and lawfully committed to his charge; and it is no act of justice to me, who am in lawful possession of my criminal. Neither is it a well-meant kindness to the youth himself, seeing that fifty opportunities of hanging him may occur, without his being found in so happy a state of preparation as he was before your ill-advised interference."
"If my young countryman," said the Scot, smiling, "be of opinion I have done him an injury, I will return him to your charge without a word more dispute."
"No, no! – for the love of Heaven, no!" exclaimed Quentin. "I would rather you swept my head off with your long sword – it would better become my birth, than to die by the hands of such a foul churl."
"Hear how he revileth!" said the finisher of the law. "Alas! how soon our best resolutions pass away! – he was in a blessed frame for departure but now, and in two minutes he has become a contemner of authorities."
"Tell me at once," said the Archer, "what has this young man done?"
"Interfered," answered Trois-Eschelles, with some earnestness, "to take down the dead body of a criminal, when the fleur-de-lys was marked on the tree where he was hung with my own proper hand."
"How is this, young man?" said the Archer; "how came you to have committed such an offence?"
"As I desire your protection," answered Durward, "I will tell you the truth as if I were at confession. I saw a man struggling on the tree, and I went to cut him down out of mere humanity. I thought neither of fleur-de-lys nor of clove-gilliflower, and had no more idea of offending the King of France than our Father the Pope."
"What a murrain had you to do with the dead body, then?" said the Archer. "You'll see them hanging, in the rear of this gentleman, like grapes on every tree, and you will have enough to do in this country if you go a-gleaning after the hangman. However, I will not quit a countryman's cause if I can help it. – Hark ye, Master Marshalsman, you see this is entirely a mistake. You should have some compassion on so young a traveller. In our country at home he has not been accustomed to see such active proceedings as yours and your master's."
"Not for want of need of them, Signior Archer," said Petit-André, who returned at this moment. "Stand fast, Trois-Eschelles, for here comes the Provost-Marshal; we shall presently see how he will relish having his work taken out of his hand before it is finished."
"And in good time," said the Archer, "here come some of my comrades."
Accordingly, as the Provost Tristan rode up with his patrol on one side of the little hill which was the scene of the altercation, four or five Scottish Archers came as hastily up on the other, and at their head the Balafré himself.
Upon this urgency, Lesly showed none of that indifference towards his nephew of which Quentin had in his heart accused him; for he no sooner saw his comrade and Durward standing upon their defence, than he exclaimed, "Cunningham, I thank thee. – Gentlemen – comrades, lend me your aid – It is a young Scottish gentleman – my nephew – Lindesay – Guthrie – Tyrie, draw, and strike in!"
There was now every prospect of a desperate scuffle between the parties, who were not so disproportioned in numbers, but that the better arms of the Scottish cavaliers gave them an equal chance of victory. But the Provost-Marshal, either doubting the issue of the conflict, or aware that it would be disagreeable to the King, made a sign to his followers to forbear from violence, while he demanded of Balafré, who now put himself forward as the head of the other party, "What he, a cavalier of the King's Body Guard, purposed by opposing the execution of a criminal?"
"I deny that I do so," answered the Balafré. "Saint Martin! there is, I think, some difference between the execution of a criminal, and the slaughter of my own nephew?"
"Your nephew may be a criminal as well as another, Signor," said the Provost-Marshal; "and every stranger in France is amenable to the laws of France."
"Yes, but we have privileges, we Scottish Archers," said Balafré; "have we not, comrades?"
"Yes, yes" they all exclaimed together. "Privileges – privileges! Long live King Louis – long live the bold Balafré – long live the Scottish Guard – and death to all who would infringe our privileges!"
"Take reason with you, gentlemen cavaliers," said the Provost-Marshal; "consider my commission."
"We will have no reason at your hand," said Cunningham; "our own officers shall do us reason. We will be judged by the King's grace, or by our own Captain, now that the Lord High Constable is not in presence."
"And we will be hanged by none," said Lindesay, "but Sandie Wilson, the auld Marshals-man of our ain body."
"It would be a positive cheating of Sandie, who is as honest a man as ever tied noose upon hemp, did we give way to any other proceeding," said the Balafré. "Were I to be hanged myself, no other should tie tippet about my craig."
"But hear ye," said the Provost-Marshal, "this young fellow belongs not to you, and cannot share what you call your privileges."
"What well call our privileges, all shall admit to be such," said Cunningham.
"We will not hear them questioned!" was the universal cry of the Archers.
"Ye are mad, my masters," said Tristan l'Hermite – "No one disputes your privileges; but this youth is not one of you."
"He is my nephew," said the Balafré, with a triumphant air.
"But no Archer of the Guard, I think," retorted Tristan l'Hermite.
The Archers looked on each other in some uncertainty.
"Stand to it yet, comrade," whispered Cunningham to Balafré – "Say he is engaged with us."