The Kings Esquires | Page 2

the dark oak, chipped and much rubbed, semi-classic
figure, the work of some wood-carver of a hundred years before, and
whose grim aspect was rendered grotesque by the want of a nose. The
next minute the polished floor gave forth sounds of softly shuffling feet,
and stamps, as the lad, page or esquire, and evidently for the time
guardian of the ante-chamber, began to fence and foin, parry and guard,

every now and then delivering a fierce thrust in the latest Italian fashion
right at the marked-out heart upon the grim figure's breast. It was warm
work, for the lad put plenty of spirit and life into his efforts, and before
long his clear, broad forehead and the sides of a rather aquiline nose
began to glisten with a very slight dew. But the efforts were quite
unsuccessful, bringing forth softly uttered ejaculations of impatience as
the keen point of the rapier stuck into the solid wood above, below, to
the right and left, never once within the ellipse traced out to represent a
heart. But evidently under the belief that practice makes perfect, and
regardless of coming shortness of breath, the lad kept on thrusting away,
so intent upon his work that he did not bear the faint smothered click as
of a latch behind him, nor note a white hand from one of whose fingers
glistened dully the stone en cabochon of a big ruby ring.
This hand looked thin and ghastly against the dark curtain which it
grasped and held on one side for some minutes, while its owner, hidden
by the arras, seemed to be watching the sword-play of the lad. This
went on vigorously as ever even when the tapestry was lightly brushed
aside and a rather short, keen-looking, grizzled-bearded man appeared,
in square black velvet cap and long gown, which half hid a closely
fitting black velvet doublet and silken hose. He was armed, according
to the custom of the time, with a long rapier balanced by a stiletto at his
girdle, and as he dropped the curtain, his hands moved as if
involuntarily to these occupants of his belt and rested there. It was not a
pleasant face that watched the sword-play, for the wrinkles therein were
not those of age, but deeply marked all the same.
They showed, fan-like, in two sets of rays at the corners of his eyes,
and curiously about the corners of his mouth and beside his nose, as if
he were about to laugh, the sort of laugh that one would give who
enjoyed seeing a fellow-creature in pain; while his dark right eye
seemed to glow beneath the grey shaggy brow, at one moment in a
strange fiery way, while the next, as its owner made some slight
movement, it literally flashed as if sending forth scintillations of light,
giving to his countenance a weird, strange aspect, emphasised by the
peculiar fixed stare of his left optic, which suggested that it was doing
the fixed, quiet, patient work of its master, while the other searched and

flashed and sought for fresh subjects upon which its fellow might gaze.
Whatever value such a pair of eyes might be to their possessor, they
had one great drawback, and that was that they caused distrust in a
stranger who met him for the first time, making him involuntarily feel
that this man must be having him at a disadvantage, for it was as if one
eye held him in play and took up his attention, while that other with its
strange fixed stare searched him through and through.
His was not a pleasant smile, and there were people about the Court
who said sinister things about Master Leoni, the King's physician, and
who would not have taken a dose of his medicine even to save their
lives, for he had acquired a bad name, and Saint Simon had once half
laughingly said:
"He knows too much about poisons to please me."
It was no wonder, then, that taking into consideration his quiet and
unexpected approach, and the grim aspect of his face, the fencing lad
should, when he became aware of his presence, give a violent start and
slightly change colour, his exercise-flushed face turning for the
moment pale. It was just after one of his most vigorous attacks upon the
supporter of the great mantelpiece, one which ended in a really
successful thrust delivered with a suppressed "Ha, ha!" followed by a
dull thud, and a tug on the lad's part to extricate the point of his sword
from its new sheath, quite a couple of inches being firmly thrust into
the hard old wood right in the centre of the marked-out heart.
"Humph! At last!" said the watcher, as the boy faced round. "You won't
kill many of the