The Gadfly Ethel Voynich (e reader manga TXT) 📖

“They’re worse in Corsica, mother. I don’t know what we poor folk are coming to.”

“Have you come over alone?”

“No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!”

Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he looked his part to perfection.

They sauntered through the marketplace together, Michele whistling between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lameness less observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important directions had to be given.

“There’s Marcone, on horseback, at that corner,” Michele whispered suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the horseman.

“Do you happen to be wanting a haymaker, sir?” he said, touching his ragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signal agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a country squire’s bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse’s neck.

“What sort of work can you do, my man?”

The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.

“I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges”⁠—he began; and without any break in his voice, went straight on: “At one in the morning at the mouth of the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be waiting inside the cave⁠—And then I can dig, sir, and⁠—”

“That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out before?”

“Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying squadron. Don’t go by the wood-path; you’re safer on the other side. If you meet a spy, don’t stop to argue with him; fire at once⁠—I should be very glad of work, sir.”

“Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven’t got any coppers today.”

A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous whine.

“Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin⁠—Get out of this place at once; there’s a flying squadron coming along⁠—Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled⁠—It’s you they’re after, Rivarez; they’ll be here in two minutes⁠—And so may the saints reward you⁠—You’ll have to make a dash for it; there are spies at all the corners. It’s no use trying to slip away without being seen.”

Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly’s hand.

“Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide in the ravine. We’re all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes.”

“No. I won’t have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and fire after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are, tethered by the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreat fighting, and when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump every man on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way.”

They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearest bystanders had not supposed their conversation to refer to anything more dangerous than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare by the bridle, walked towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along beside him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched hand and a persistent whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned him in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen who were eating raw onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followed him; and before anyone’s notice had been attracted to them, the whole seven were standing together by the steps of the palace, each man with one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered horses within easy reach.

“Don’t betray yourselves till I move,” the Gadfly said softly and clearly. “They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order. Don’t fire at the men; lame their horses⁠—then they can’t follow us. Three of you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes between you and our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap, each man for himself; don’t stop for anything.”

“Here they come,” said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an air of naive and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their bargaining.

Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had great difficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for the spies at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators could have slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixed upon the soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.

“Couldn’t we get away now?”

“No; we’re surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. He has just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance is to lame their horses.”

“Which is the spy?”

“The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to us; they are going to come with a rush.”

“Out of the way there!” shouted the captain. “In the name of His Holiness!”

The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made a quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell back with a broken collarbone. Immediately after the report, six more shots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily closer to the tethered horses.

One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell to the ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of the panic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in command, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his head.

“This