Under the Fleur-de-Lis

By H. C. Bailey

This is a complete novelette written in 1924. It was published in Adventure magazine, New York and London, Dec 20, 1924, pp. 121-136. The story opens with a would-be attack on Sylvain de St Lo, a French priest. He is apprehended while on his horse. Unafraid he asks who his attackers are and tells them it will not be good for them if they attack him. On realizing he is French they become afraid and lead him to their master.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Dec 8, 2020
• ISBN: 4064066405199

H. C. Bailey

H. C. Bailey (1878–1961) was an English author of mysteries. He took to writing early, publishing My Lady of Orange (1901) during his senior year at Oxford, and spent many years as a journalist and author of romantic fiction before he began writing detective novels. Call Mr. Fortune (1920) introduced the world to Reggie Fortune, a brilliant investigator with a knack for solving chilling murder mysteries, who would become one of the most popular sleuths of the English golden age of detective fiction.

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H. C. Bailey

Under the Fleur-de-Lis

Published by Good Press, 2020

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EAN 4064066405199

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THE sun was setting, the peaks of the Apennines rose dark into a sky of flame and the plain lay in golden light. Silvain came by the road under the foothills singing his evening psalm.

An offering of a free heart will I give thee and praise thy name, O Lord, because it is so comfortable. For He hath delivered me out of all my trouble——

Men ran upon him from a hollow in the hills and caught his bridle and bade him stand.

—and mine eye hath seen his desire upon mine enemies. Silvain made an end of his psalm and drew his sword, and a hundred yards behind Messire Thibaut gave a howl and charged to help.

Here is nothing for you but steel, said Silvain mildly. Who has a lust to die?

There were half a dozen about him, sturdy rascals, armed with dagger and sword, and they laughed at him.

"Put up your iron, my master. If you strike, it is you who go down. We are many on one and as many more as you need.

I do not doubt you, Silvain smiled. But consider: If I go down some of you will go down with me. It is not worth while for me or for you.

He was still speaking when he drove spurs into his horse and struck with the flat of his sword at the hands on the bridle and the horse plunged and broke from them, and Thibaut rode into the midst and drove a way through.

But Silvain turned and halted as soon as he was clear.

Whose men are you? he cried. I am Silvain de St. Lo.

Then one man grumbled in French, Blood of God, he is a Frenchman! and they made off.

By my faith, this is not to end so, Silvain said and rode after them. Bring me to your master.

They stared back at him, bewildered and sulky, but led on through the folds of the hills and Silvain followed close. And he put on his helmet and took his shield from where it hung behind him and rode on ready with naked sword.

Now will I make a good end, as the bull said when he tossed the butcher’s boy and ran into the slaughter house, quoth Messire Thibaut.

In a little way they saw men riding on the hillside who halted as they were seen and one shouted—

How now, Jacques? Who do you bring me; or is it he who brings you? The —— take you, you come like driven sheep. He too spoke French.

Sir, are you the shepherd of these sheep? Silvain cried.

’Ware wolf, lad, ’ware wolf! the answer came with an oath.

I am Silvain de St. Lo.

The other stared and rode forward lifting his hand in salute. ——, you are welcome. I am Gilbert du Marais. What have you brought us, brother?

A sword, sir. Your men stopped me on the road and I seek their master. I pray you choose your ground. There is light enough yet for us to prove ourselves.

Gilbert laughed.

I like that. That is the right stuff. But no thank you I will not fight you, not I. Dog does not hunt dog. We are Frenchmen both.

Sir, I am sorry for it.

"Peace, lad, peace. Here is