49. XLIX.
THE COMBAT.
AS the hour which had been fixed for the combat
drew near, the four men entered the narrow
defile of the Fort Mountain, and approached the
secluded spot which had been selected.
They dismounted, tied their horses to the hanging boughs,
and advanced slowly to the arena.
Captain Wagner and his principal returned the low salute
of Lord Fairfax, and his friend, with one equally courteous,
and then the seconds approached each other, and conversed
for some moments in a low tone, which was inaudible
to their companions.
The preliminaries were soon arranged, and the swords
were produced and measured. They tallied exactly in
length, and were of the same weight and temper. A nod
from the Captain testified to his satisfaction.
At a sign from the seconds, the Earl and Falconbridge
then removed their coats and waistcoats, and advanced to a
spot indicated. They halted, saluted each other, and received
the weapons from the hands of Captain Wagner and
Colonel Carter.
“The terms of the combat are as follows, gentlemen,”
said the Captain. “You shall engage, and so proceed for
as long a time as seems proper. But in no case shall any
personal collision of bodies take place; there shall be no
clutching, and no resort to other weapons than the short-sword.
Should either weapon break, or the foot of either
party slip, or stumble, the engagement shall terminate for
the time. I will give the signal by raising my hand.”
At the appointed signal, the two men advanced upon
each other, and the weapons clashed together, the light of
the sinking sun darting vividly from their burnished surfaces.
Both were excellent swordsmen, and soon felt that all
their science would be necessary. The combat was thus
guarded at first, and consisted of a series of fencing lunges,
rather than rapid thrusts, as though each were feeling the
wrist of his adversary. Falconbridge was the more active
and supple of the two—the Earl stronger and heavier in
his fence. Still, as the combat grew more excited, neither
had gained any advantage—and the blood of both gradually
grew heated. The Earl glared at his enemy, and a spot in
each cheek began to glow; on his forehead the huge veins
became black. Falconbridge was pale, but the fire in his
eyes contradicted his apparent calmness: his lips were set
together like iron.
Despite his most powerful exertions the Earl could not
drive the young man back an inch; and his most deadly
lunges were regularly parried. The old swordsman grew
fiery and dangerous. His cheeks glowed as if from the
light of a conflagration—he braced his gaunt frame until it
resembled a bundle of steel springs, and advanced step by
step upon Falconbridge. He did not yield or give ground
—the points of the weapons played in the very faces of the
combatants—the hilts were almost wrapped around each
other.
Then, in spite of the exclamations and protests of the
seconds, who hastened quickly toward them, a desperate,
hand to hand, stabbing-match, rather than sword-play, commenced.
Both the Earl and Falconbridge received slight
wounds—but the sight of blood only enraged them more
bitterly.
In another moment each would have mortally wounded
his adversary, and so brought the combat to an end,
when suddenly the two men were dragged violently asunder,
and the Wizard of the Massinutton interposed his tall form
shuddering with strange emotion, between the adversaries.
The respective seconds of the combatants had rushed forward,
crying, “Gentlemen! gentlemen! this must cease! no
poniard fight!”—but the towering resident of the Fort
Mountain had forestalled them. He had seen the party
when they entered the gorge of the valley, and divining
their intention, hastened quickly toward them. He had
arrived in time, and now stood between the hot swordsmen,
his form towering high above even that of the Earl—
his face, generally so pale, flushed with tragic emotion.
The Earl gazed at him angrily, and raised his head
haughtily as their eyes encountered.
“Pray, what is the meaning of this interruption, sir?” he
said. “Are you aware that you peril your life by this proceeding!”
“Yes, my lord,” said the wizard, still agitated in every
muscle of his tall, nervous frame by the singular tremor we
have noticed. “Your weapon was within an ace of penetrating
my breast; and Mr. Falconbridge also nearly struck
me. But that is little!”
“Your meaning, sir! Stand back!”
“I will not! You may kill me, if the act will be productive
of satisfaction to your lordship; but you shall not
even do that until you hear what I came to say to you.”
There was something so resolute and gloomy in the voice
of the old man, and his eyes burned with such significance
beneath his bushy white brows, that the Earl unconsciously
dropped the point of his sword, and was silent.
“Your proceeding is extraordinary, very extraordinary,
sir,” he replied, coldly, “but I respect your age, and
say no more. I only request that you will communicate to
me speedily what you design to inform me of—I know not
what it is—then we will proceed!”
“It is necessary,” returned the wizard, “that your lordship
should listen to it in private.”
“Impossible, sir!” the Earl replied, impatiently shaking
his head: “I cannot, and will not leave this spot until this
matter is terminated!”
“You must!” was the resolute answer. “Yes, my lord,
I tell you, and I know what I say—I tell you that you must
hear me speak, and privately. This combat shall not continue,
if it becomes necessary for me to interpose my own
body between your swords.”
“You speak in riddles, sir!” exclaimed the Earl; “stand
back!”
“Strike, then, gentlemen,” replied the wizard, calmly
folding his arms, and not moving from the spot which he
occupied between the combatants; “if you wish to shed
blood, shed my own to commence with. I swear to you
that nothing shall move me but the death-blow!”
And he confronted the Earl with a majesty and determination
in eye, lip, and bearing, which produced an effect even
on his angry opponent.
“Well, have your wish, sir!” said Lord Fairfax, frowning,
“with the permission of Captain Wagner, I will retire for a
moment, to the distance of ten paces—is it permitted, sir?”
“It is permitted, my lord,” said the Captain.
“Well, let us make haste, sir,” said the Earl: and sheathing
his sword, he followed his companion, with quick steps.
They had proceeded about ten paces, and the wizard had
commenced speaking in a low, guarded tone, when the Earl
was observed to start violently. As he did so, his head
turned quickly, and he fixed upon Falconbridge one of those
glances of lightning, which, on extraordinary occasions,
made his eyes resemble flaming brands. His face was
deadly pale, and the contracted lips revealed his white teeth
set like a vice together. He no longer opposed the will of
his companion, evidently—they walked a hundred yards,
talking in a low, agitated manner, and finally disappeared
behind a huge mass of rock, covered with moss and evergreens,
which rose on the declivity of the mountain.
The three gentlemen who had been left by themselves in
this unceremonious manner, waited patiently for a quarter
of an hour. Then they began to look curiously toward the
rocky screen. Another quarter of an hour passed slowly
away, and Colonel Carter, at the request of Captain Wagner,
had just gone to summon the Earl, when the two men
were seen returning.
An extraordinary change had taken place in the bearing
and appearance of Lord Fairfax. When he left the party,
he had carried his head proudly erect, his eyes were flashing
with anger, and the aroused thirst for blood—he had
resembled a warhorse, snuffing the odor of battle, and
champing at the bit which restrains him. Now, all this
had disappeared. His shoulders were drooping—his cheeks
were pale: his eyes, of late so fiery, were full of wistful
light; and he gazed upon his companions with an expression
of absent wonder which impressed them with the most vivid
astonishment. Especially did they experience a sentiment
amounting to stupefaction, almost, when they saw the Earl
glance toward Falconbridge. In that glance there was no
longer any enmity, any anger—all had vanished. It was a
gaze almost tender in its character; and plainly an unconscious
one to the Earl. The young man wondered at it, but
replied only by a look haughtier than before, and calmly
tested the metal of his weapon by pressing the point upon
his boot.
Lord Fairfax soon recovered from his fit of absence, however,
and by a great effort, summoned his habitual calmness.
He approached Captain Wagner, and Falconbridge, and
bowing with grave courtesy, said:
“This affair cannot proceed, gentlemen, and the singular
circumstances accompanying the fact, is the entire silence
which I am compelled to observe at present upon the character
of the considerations which render a further combat
impossible.”
Falconbridge flushed, and grasped his sword in a menacing
manner.
“I am aware,” continued the Earl, in the same calm voice,
“that my words are enigmas, but I cannot prevent that. I
will make any apology, or follow any course which Mr.
Falconbridge may see fit to demand.”
The seconds and Falconbridge greeted these words with
incredulous wonder; but the Earl did not seem to observe
it, and added:
“I propose, in all that relates to an affair in which Mr.
Falconbridge and myself hold the position of rival claimants,
to withdraw my pretensions, and retire from the field
—his interests shall no longer suffer from my presence—and
I am prepared to make him any apology which he requires,
for anything in which he may have thought himself
wronged, by any act of my own.”
The words were uttered as calmly and coldly as before,
in spite of a faint tinge which rose slowly to the cheek, and
having finished them, the Earl bowed low and was silent.
The seconds and Falconbridge had listened with an amazement
greater than before; but this expression in the eyes
of Wagner was succeeded by another of unmistakable
pleasure. As the Earl ended his address, he bowed low
and replied:
“As the friend of Mr. Falconbridge, I accept your lordship's
proposal. We shall waive all further explanations or
discussions, resting content with the general disclaimer, and
offer which has been made. You will permit me, my lord,
to say on the part of Mr. Falconbridge, whom I represent,
that this proposition is no less characteristic of your lordship's
magnanimity, than of your fearless disregard of appearances.
And so, gentlemen, the matter's at an end—the
fight's over—if it's not, I'm a crop-eared dandy!”
With this joyous outburst, the Captain twirled his moustache
violently, and picking up the coats of the combatants,
handed them to those gentlemen, with an air full of grace
and politeness. With a clouded, and gloomy brow, Falconbridge
yielded to his representative, and the whole party
were soon again in the saddle, on their way back to the
Lowland.
The wizard was slowly retracing his steps up the mountain.
