Won By the Sword : a tale of the Thirty Years' War. Henty George Alfred

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      “Either of these would do,” Hector said; “but we don’t know where the market is, and it would never do to seem ignorant of that.” The snow had stopped suddenly some minutes before, and the sun was now shining.

      “That is lucky,” Hector said as they walked down towards the road, “we may hope that there will be no more snow and that the sun will soon melt what has fallen. It would be fatal to us if the ground were white, for the most careless sentry could not help seeing us upon it.”

      They reached the road just as a peasant came along. He was an old man, and was dragging behind him a pile of faggots, which were placed upon two rough poles. He was walking between these, holding two ends in his hands, while the others trailed along on the ground behind.

      “Bargain with him, Paolo.”

      “That is a heavy load, father,” the latter said.

      “Ay, it is heavy.”

      “How much do you expect to get for your faggots in the town?”

      “I shall get a crown,” the man said. “I would not take under, and they ought to be worth more than that now the snow has begun to fall.”

      “We are going into the town,” Paolo said. “We are younger than you, and between us we could drag it along easily. I have got a crown in my pocket to buy some things with. I don’t mind giving it to you for your load. If I can sell the faggots for a few soldi over that we shall be able to buy something for ourselves.”

      “It is a bargain, lad,” the old man said. “I am getting old and the rheumatism is in my bones, and I shall be very glad to be spared the journey; so give me your money and take the poles. I hope you will be successful, and sell them a little higher. You had better ask a crown and a half. The women are sure to beat you down, but you will make ten or twelve soldi for yourselves.”

      Paolo handed the crown to the old man.

      “How had we better take this, Paolo?” Hector asked, as the old man, chuckling with satisfaction at having escaped a toilsome journey, turned to retrace his steps.

      “There is room for us both between the shafts,” Paolo said, “one behind the other. It would be much easier to walk holding both poles than for us both to take one, as in that way the weight will be balanced on each side of us.”

      There was indeed just room between the ends of the poles and the pile of brushwood for them to walk close behind each other, and as the greater portion of the weight rested on the other ends of the poles they did not find the burden a heavy one.

      “How are we going to sell these, Paolo?”

      “We shall have no difficulty in selling them, master. This frost will set every housewife on the lookout for wood, and you will find that we sha’n’t have to go far before we are accosted.”

      It was two miles from the spot where they had bought the faggots to the gates of Turin.

      “I sha’n’t be sorry to get rid of this load,” Hector said. “It is not the weight but the roughness of the poles. My hands are quite chafed by them.”

      “Loose your hold for a bit, master. My hands have been accustomed to rough work, and many a load of faggots have I drawn in my time.”

      “I will hold on, Paolo. It is not more than a quarter of a mile farther. My hands have done plenty of work, too, but it has been done with smooth handled weapons. It is well that they should become accustomed to harder work.”

      They passed without a question through the gate, and following the example of other vendors of wood, of whom they saw several, Paolo began to shout, “Large faggots for sale!”

      It was not long before a door opened and a woman beckoned him.

      “How much do you want for the whole?”

      “A crown and a half,” Paolo said.

      “I have been offered as many for a crown,” the woman replied.

      “Then, signora, you did wrong to refuse. It took two days’ work to cut them, and we have dragged them here for miles. Two crowns would not pay for the labour. Not one scudo would I take under the price that I have named. Why, if the town is besieged these faggots would be worth twenty crowns before the winter is over.”

      “Well, I will give you the money,” the woman said. “It is extortionate. Generally I can buy them at half that price.”

      “I do not say no to that,” Paolo laughed, “but with two armies wanting firewood and cutting down the copses without even taking trouble to ask leave of their owners, I think that you will see firewood very scarce in the city before long.”

      “Well, carry it in and pile it in the yard.”

      This was soon done, the poles were thrown on to the top of the heap, and the boys went off along the street again.

      “We have made half a crown for ourselves,” Paolo laughed; “now we must decide how we shall spend it.”

      “It would be a good plan to spend some money anyhow,” Hector said. “What kind of things would you be likely to buy for your family in the country?”

      “Well, I should say a cooking pan to begin with, and a few yards of warm stuff for making my mother a skirt.”

      “Well, buy the cooking pan first and sling it across your shoulder, and then as we wander about we can look in the shops and it will seem as if we were on the search for articles that we had been told to purchase; it would be better than sauntering about without any apparent object. But first let us walk briskly towards the side of the town facing the citadel. The Strada Vecchia is the one that I want to examine first.”

      The knowledge that he had gained from the plan of the city enabled Hector to find the street without their having to ask any questions.

      “Now, buy your cooking pan at the next smith’s shop you come to, and then we can go slowly along making our observations.”

      They soon found that the street they had entered was, for the most part, deserted by its inhabitants. The shops were all closed, the road was strewn with fallen chimneys and balconies, and here and there were yawning holes showing how severely the street had suffered when the artillery duel was going on between the guns on the walls and those of the citadel. A short distance down the street a chain was stretched across it, and here a musketeer was pacing up and down on guard. Two others could be seen at the farther end of the street, where there was a gateway in the wall, now closed up with sandbags piled thickly against it.

      “We will see if the other streets are similarly guarded.”

      This was found to be so, sentries being placed in every street running down to the wall in this quarter.

      “So far so good, Paolo. I do not think that matters could have been better for us. The next thing is to buy a tool with which we can wrench open a door or the shutter of a window; but a door will be best, because we could not work at a shutter without running the risk of being seen by a sentinel, while in a doorway we should be screened from observation. These houses in the Strada Vecchia are old, and the doors ought not to give us much trouble.”

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