I found them afterwards, ready loaded,
on the mantelpiece of the outer room: it was hard by the door, ready to
their hands, but my sudden rush in had cut off access to them. Yes, we
were man to man: and we began to fight, silently, sternly, and hard.
Yet I remember little of it, save that the man was my match with the
sword--nay, and more, for he knew more tricks than I; and that he forced
me back against the bars that guarded the entrance to "Jacob's Ladder."
And I saw a smile on his face, and he wounded me in the left arm.
No glory do I take for that contest. I believe that the man would have
mastered me and slain me, and then done his butcher's work, for he was
the most skilful swordsman I have ever met; but even as he pressed me
hard, the half-mad, wasted, wan creature in the corner leapt high in
lunatic mirth, shrieking:
"It's cousin Rudolf! Cousin Rudolf! I'll help you, cousin Rudolf!" and
catching up a chair in his hands (he could but just lift it from the
ground and hold it uselessly before him) he came towards us. Hope came
to me. "Come on!" I cried. "Come on! Drive it against his legs."
Detchard replied with a savage thrust. He all but had me.
"Come on! Come on, man!" I cried. "Come and share the fun!"
And the King laughed gleefully, and came on, pushing his chair before
him.
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