Chapter 10: The Meeting

Only four or five men, besides themselves, were left in the great room of the Inn of the Eagle. The looks they gave the three were not hostile, and Robert judged that they belonged to the party known in Quebec as honnêtes gens and described to him already by de Galisonnière. He thought once of speaking to them, but he decided not to put any strain upon their friendliness. They might have very bitter feelings against Bigot and his corrupt following, but the fact would not of necessity induce them to help the Bostonnais.

“I thought it would be best to go to bed,” he said, “but I’ve changed my mind. A little walk first in the open air would be good for all of us. Besides we must stay up long enough to receive the seconds of de Mézy.”

“A walk would be a good thing for you,” said Willet--it was noteworthy that despite his great affection for the lad, he did not show any anxiety about him.

“Your wrist feels as strong as ever, doesn’t it, Robert?” he asked.

Young Lennox took his right wrist in his left hand and looked at it thoughtfully. He was a tall youth, built powerfully, but his wrists were of uncommon size and strength.

“I suppose that paddling canoes during one’s formative period over our lakes and rivers develops the wrists and arms better than anything else can,” he said.

“It makes them strong and supple, too,” said the hunter. “It gives to you a wonderful knack which with training can be applied with equal ability to something else.”

“As we know.”

“As we know.”

They went out and walked a little while in the streets, curious eyes still following them, a fact of which they were well aware, although they apparently took no notice of it. Willet observed Robert closely, but he could not see any sign of unsteadiness or excitement. Young Lennox himself seemed to have forgotten the serious business that would be on hand in the morning. His heart again beat a response to Quebec which in the dusk was magnificent and glorified. The stone buildings rose to the size of castles, the great river showed like silver through the darkness and on the far shore a single light burned.

A figure appeared before them. It was de Galisonnière, his ruddy face anxious.

“I was hoping that we might meet you,” said Robert.

“What’s this I hear about a quarrel between you and de Mézy and a duel in the morning?”

“You hear the truth.”

“But de Mézy, though he is no friend of mine, is a swordsman, and has had plenty of experience. You English, or at least you English in your colonies, know nothing about the sword, except to wear it as a decoration!”

Robert laughed.

“I appreciate your anxiety for me,” he said. “It’s the feeling of a friend, but don’t worry. A few of us in the English colonies do know the use of the sword, and at the very head of them I should place David Willet, whom you know and who is with us.”

“But de Mézy is not going to fight Willet, he is going to fight you.”

“David Willet has been a father to me, more, in truth, than most fathers are to their sons. I’ve been with him for years, Captain de Galisonnière, and all the useful arts he knows he has tried long and continuously to teach to me.”

“Then you mean that the sword you now wear at your thigh is a weapon and not an ornament?”

“Primarily, yes, but before we go further into the matter of the sword, I wish to ask you a favor.”

“Ask a dozen, Lennox. We’ve been companions of the voyage and your quarrel with de Mézy does not arouse any hostility in me.”

“I felt that it was so, and for that reason I ask the favor. We are strangers in Quebec. We did not come here to seek trouble with anybody, and so I ask you to be a second for me in this affair with de Mézy. Dave and Tayoga, of course, would act, but at the present juncture, ours being an errand of peace and not of war, I’d prefer Frenchmen.”

“Gladly I’ll serve you, Lennox, since you indicate that you’re a swordsman and are not going to certain death, and I’ll bring with me in the morning a trusty friend, Armand Glandelet, one of our _honnêtes gens_ who likes de Mézy as little as I do.”

“I thank you much, my good friend. I knew you would accept, and if all are willing I suggest that we go back now to the Inn of the Eagle.”

“A little trial of the sword in your room would not hurt,” said de Galisonnière.

“That’s a good suggestion,” said Willet. “A few turns will show whether your wrists and your arms and your back are all right. You come with us, of course, Captain de Galisonnière.”

They went to their large room, Captain de Galisonnière procuring on the way two buttons for rapiers from Monsieur Berryer--it seemed that duels were not uncommon in Quebec--and Willet and Robert, taking off their coats and waistcoats, faced each other in the light of two large candles. The young Frenchman watched them critically. He had assisted at many affairs of honor in both Quebec and Montreal and he knew the build of a swordsman when he saw one. When Robert stood in his shirt sleeves he noted his powerful chest and shoulders and arms, and then his eyes traveling to the marvelous wrists were arrested there. He drew in his breath as he saw, from the way in which Robert flexed them for a moment or two that they were like wrought steel.

“If this lad has been taught as they indicate he has, our ruffling bully, Jean de Mézy, is in for a bad half hour,” he said to himself. Then he looked at Willet, built heavily, with great shoulders and chest, but with all the spring and activity of a young man. His glance passed on to Tayoga, the young Onondaga, in all the splendor of his forest attire, standing by the wall, his eyes calm and fathomless. It occurred all at once to Captain de Galisonnière that he was in the presence of an extraordinary three, each remarkable in his own way, and, liking the unusual, his interest in them deepened. It did not matter that they were his official enemies, because on the other hand they were his personal friends.

“Now, Robert,” said Willet, “watch my eye, because I’m going to put you to a severe test. Ready?”

“Aye, ready, sir!” replied Robert, speaking like a pupil to his master. Then the two advanced toward the center of the room and faced each other, raising their slim swords which flashed in the flame of the candles like thin lines of light. Then Willet thrust like lightning, but his blade slipped off Robert’s, and young Lennox thrust back only to have his own weapon caught on the other.

“Ah,” exclaimed the gallant Frenchman. “Well done! Well done for both!”

Then he held his breath as the play of the swords became so fast that the eye could scarcely follow. They made vivid lines, and steel flashed upon steel with such speed that at times the ringing sound seemed continuous. Willet’s agility was amazing. Despite his size and weight he was as swift and graceful as a dancing master, and the power of his wrist was wonderful. The amazement of young de Galisonnière increased. He had seen the best swordsmanship in Quebec, and he had seen the best swordsmanship in Paris, but he had never seen better swordsmanship than that shown in a room of the Inn of the Eagle by a man whom he had taken to be a mere hunter in the American wilderness.

De Galisonnière was an artist with the sword himself, and he knew swordsmanship when he saw it. He knew, too, that Lennox was but little inferior to Willet. He saw that the older man was not sparing the youth, that he was incessantly beating against the strongest parts of his defense, and that he was continually seeking out his weakest. Robert was driven around and around the room, and yet Willet did not once break through his guard.

“Ah, beautiful! beautiful!” exclaimed the Frenchman. “I did not know that such swordsmen could come out of the woods!”

His eyes met those of the Onondaga and for the first time he saw a gleam in their dark depths.

“Their swords are alive,” said Tayoga. “They are living streaks of flame.”

“That describes it, my friend,” said de Galisonnière. “I shall be proud to be one of the seconds of Mr. Lennox in the morning.”

Willet suddenly dropped the buttoned point of his rapier and raised his left hand.

“Enough, Robert,” he said, “I can’t allow you to tire yourself tonight, and run the risk of stiffening in the wrist tomorrow. In strength you are superior to de Mézy, and in wind far better. You should have no trouble with him. Watch his eye and stand for a while on the defensive. One of his habits, will soon wear himself down, and then he will be at your mercy.”

“You are a wonderful swordsman, Mr. Willet,” said de Galisonnière, frank in his admiration. “I did not think such skill, such power and such a variety in attack and defense could be learned outside of Paris.”

“Perhaps not!” said Willet, smiling. “The greatest masters of the sword in the world teach in Paris, and it was there that I learned what I know.”

“What, you have been in Paris?”

“Aye, Captain de Galisonnière, I know my Paris well.”

But he volunteered nothing further and Louis de Galisonnière’s delicacy kept him from asking any more questions. Nevertheless he had an intensified conviction that three most extraordinary people had come to Quebec, and he was glad to know them. Jean de Mézy, count of France, and powerful man though he might be, was going to receive a punishment richly deserved. He detested Bigot, Cadet, Pean and all their corrupt crowd, while recognizing the fact that they were almost supreme in Quebec. It would be pleasing to the gods for de Mézy to be humiliated, and it did not matter if the humiliation came from the hands of a Bostonnais.

“Would you mind trying a round or two at the foils with me?” he said to Willet. “Since you don’t have to fight in the morning you needn’t fear any stiffening of the wrist, and I should like to learn something about that low thrust of yours, the one well beneath your opponent’s guard, and which only a movement like lightning can reach. You used it five times, unless my eye missed a sixth.”

“And so you noticed it!” said Willet, looking pleased. “I made six such thrusts, but Robert met them every time. I’ve trained him to be on the watch for it, because in a real combat it’s sure to be fatal, unless it’s parried with the swiftness of thought.”

“Then teach me,” said de Galisonnière eagerly. “We’re a fighting lot here in Quebec, and it may save my life some day.”

Willet was not at all averse, and for nearly an hour he taught the young Frenchman. Then de Galisonnière departed, cautioning Robert to sleep well, and saying that he would come early in the morning with his friend, Glandelet.

“His advice about sleeping was good, Robert,” said Willet. “Now roll into bed and off with you to slumberland at once.”

Robert obeyed and his nerves were so steady and his mind so thoroughly at peace that in fifteen minutes he slept. The hunter watched his steady breathing with satisfaction and said to Tayoga:

“If our bibulous friend, Count Jean de Mézy, doesn’t have a surprise in the morning, then I’ll go back to the woods, and stay there as long as I live.”

“Will Lennox kill him?” asked Tayoga.

“I hadn’t thought much about it, Tayoga, but he won’t kill him. Robert isn’t sanguinary. He doesn’t want anybody’s blood on his hands, and it wouldn’t help our mission to take a life in Quebec.”

“The man de Mézy does not deserve to live.”

Willet laughed.

“That’s so, Tayoga,” he said, “but it’s no part of our business to go around taking the lives away from all those who don’t make good use of ‘em. Why, if we undertook such a job we’d have to work hard for the next thousand years. I think we’d better fall on, ourselves, and snatch about eight good hours of slumber.”

In a few minutes three instead of one slept, and when the first ray of sunlight entered the room in the morning Tayoga awoke. He opened the window, letting the fresh air pour in, and he raised his nostrils to it like a hound that has caught the scent. It brought to him the aromatic odors of his beloved wilderness, and, for a time, he was back in the great land of the Hodenosaunee among the blue lakes and the silver streams. He had been educated in the white man’s schools, and his friendship for Robert and Willet was strong and enduring, but his heart was in the forest. Enlightened and humane, he had nevertheless asked seriously the night before the question: “Will Lennox kill him?” He had discovered something fetid in Quebec and to him de Mézy was a noxious animal that should be destroyed. He wished, for an instant, that he knew the sword and that he was going to stand in Lennox’s place.

Then he woke Robert and Willet, and they dressed quickly, but by the time they had finished Monsieur Berryer knocked on the door and told them breakfast was ready. The innkeeper’s manner was flurried. He was one of the honnêtes gens who liked peace and an upright life. He too wished the insolent pride of de Mézy to be humbled, but he had scarcely come to the point where he wanted to see a Bostonnais do it. Nor did he believe that it could be done. De Mézy was a good swordsman, and his friends would see that he was in proper condition. Weighing the matter well, Monsieur Berryer was, on the whole, sorry for the young stranger.

But Robert himself showed no apprehensions. He ate his excellent breakfast with an equally excellent appetite, and Monsieur Berryer noticed that his hand did not tremble. He observed, too, that he had spirit enough to talk and laugh with his friends, and when Captain de Galisonnière and another young Frenchman, Lieutenant Armand Glandelet, arrived, he welcomed them warmly.