"Here's a fellow in the most desperate hurry," said Wogan, and parrying
the thrust he disengaged, circled, disengaged again, and lunging felt
the soldier's leather coat yield to his point. "The Emperor's arm is
weak, too, one might believe," he laughed, and he drove his sword home.
The man fell upon the stairs; but as Wogan spoke the leader crouched on
the step plucked violently at his cloak below his knees. Wogan had not
recovered from his lunge; the jerk at the cloak threw him off his
balance, his legs slipped forward under him, in another moment he would
have come crashing down the stairs upon his back, and at the bottom of
the flight there stood one man absolutely unharmed supporting his
comrade who had been wounded in the throat. Wogan felt the jerk,
understood the danger, and saw its remedy at the same instant. He did
not resist the impetus, he threw his body into it, he sprang from the
stairs forwards, tearing his cloak from the leader's hands, he sprang
across the leader, across the soldier who had fired at him, and he
dropped with all his weight into the arms of the third man with the
pierced throat. The blood poured out from the wound over Wogan's face
and breast in a blinding jet. The fellow uttered one choking cry and
reeling back carried the comrade who supported him against the
balustrade at the turn of the stairs. Wogan did not give that fourth man
time to disengage himself, but dropping his sword caught him by the
throat as the third wounded man slipped between them to the ground.
Wogan bent his new opponent backwards over the balustrade, and felt the
muscles of his back resist and then slacken. Wogan bent him further and
further over until it seemed his back must break. But it was the
balustrade which broke. Wogan heard it crack. He had just time to loose
his hands and step back, and the railing and the man poised on the rail
fell outwards into the courtyard. Wogan stepped forward and peered
downwards. The soldier had not broken his neck, for Wogan saw him
writhe upon the ground. He bent his head to see the better; he heard a
report behind him, and a bullet passed through the crown of his hat. He
swung round and saw the leader of the four with one of his own pistols
smoking in his hand.
"You!" cried Wogan. "Sure, here's a rabbit attacking a terrier dog;" and
he sprang up the stairs. The man threw away the pistol, fell on his
knees, and held up his hands for mercy.