"A grim set of men," Rupert said to himself.
They were indeed a grim set. Many bore torches, which, when once
need for quiet and concealment was over, they had lighted.
Dort did a large export trade in hides and in meat to the towns
lying below them, and it was clear that it was from the butchers
and skinners that the mob was chiefly drawn. Huge figures, with
poleaxes and long knives, in leathern clothes spotted and stained
with blood, showed wild and fierce in the red light of the torches,
as they brandished their weapons, and prepared to assault the
little band who held the broad stairs.
Rupert advanced a step below the rest, and shouted:
"What means this? I am an officer of the Duke of Marlborough's
army, and I warn you against lifting a hand against my host and
good friend Mynheer van Duyk."
"It's a lie!" shouted one of the crowd. "We know you; you are a
Frenchman masquerading in English uniform.
"Down with him, my friends. Death to the traitors!"
There was a rush up the stairs, and in an instant the terrible
fight began.
On open ground, Rupert, with his activity and his straight sword,
would have made short work of one of the brawny giants who now
attacked him, for he could have leapt out of reach of the
tremendous blow, and have run his opponent through ere he could
again lift his ponderous axe. But there was no guarding such
swinging blows as these with a light sword; and even the advantage
of the height of the stairs was here of little use.
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