We dashed through the streets of Bidache, arousing the village dogs asleep in the yellow-sunlight to a chorus of disapprobation. About a dozen sought to revenge their disturbed slumbers, and, following the horses, snapped viciously at their heels; but we soon distanced them, and flinging a curse or so after us, in dog language, they gave up the pursuit, and returned to blink away the afternoon. It was my intention to keep to the right of Ivry, and after crossing the Eure, head straight for Paris, which I would enter either by way of Versailles or St. Germains; it mattered little what road, and there was plenty of time to decide.
I have, however, to confess here to a weakness, and that was my disappointment that Madame had not stayed to see the last of me. Looking back upon it, I am perfectly aware that I had no right to have any feeling in the matter whatsoever; but let any one who has been placed similarly to myself be asked to lay bare his heart—I would stake my peregrine, Etoile, to a hedge crow on the result.
Madame knew I loved her. She must have seen the hunger in my eyes, as I watched her come and go, in the days when I lay at Ste. Geneviève, wounded to death. She must have felt the words I crushed down, I know not how, when we parted. She knew it all. Every woman knows how a man stands towards her. I was going away. I might never see her again. It was little to have waved me Godspeed as I rode on my way, and yet that little was not given.
In this manner, like the fool I was, I rasped and fretted, easing my unhappy temper by letting the horse feel the rowels, and swearing at myself for a whining infant that wept for a slice of the moon.
For a league or so we galloped along the undulating ground which sloped towards the ford near Ezy; but as we began to approach the river, the country, studded with apple orchards, and trim with hedgerows of holly and hawthorn, broke into a wild and rugged moorland, intersected by ravines, whose depths were concealed by a tall undergrowth of Christ's Thorn and hornbeam, whilst beyond this, in russet, in sombre greens, and greys that faded into absolute blue, stretched the forests and woods of Anet and Croth-Sorel.
In the flood of the mellow sunlight the countless bells of heather enamelling the roadside were clothed in royal purple, and the brown tips of the bracken glistened like shafts of beaten gold. At times the track took its course over the edge of a steep bank, and here we slackened pace, picking our way over the crumbling earth, covered with grass, whose growth was choked by a network of twining cranesbill, gay with its crimson flowers, and listening to the dreamy humming of the restless bees, and the cheerful, if insistent, skirl of the grass crickets, from their snug retreats amidst the yarrow and sweet-scented thyme.
As we slid rather than rode down one of these banks, my horse cast a shoe, and this put a stop to any further hard riding until the mishap could be repaired.
'There is a smith at Ezy, monsieur,' said Jacques, 'where we can get what we want done, and then push on to Rouvres, where there is good accommodation at theGrand Cerf.'
'I suppose Ezy can give us nothing in that way?'
'I doubt much, monsieur, for the place sank to nothing when Monseigneur the Duc d'Aumale was exiled, and the King, as monsieur is aware, has given the castle to Madame Gabrielle, for her son, littleCésar Monsieur—the Duc de Vendôme.'
'Morbleu!It is well that Madame de Beaufort has not set eyes on Auriac—eh, Jacques?' and I laughed as I saw the huge grey outlines of Anet rising in the foreground, and thought how secure my barren, stormbeaten rock was from the rapacity of the King's mistress.
Jacques came of a rugged race, and my words roused him.
'But M. le Chevalier would never let Auriac fall into the hands of the King or his Madame? We could man the tower with a hundred stout hearts and——'
'Swing on the gibbet at the castle gates in two weeks, Jacques. But remember, we are loyal subjects now, and are going to Paris to serve the King.'
'As for me,' answered Jacques, obstinately, 'I serve my master, the Chevalier de Breuil d'Auriac, and none besides.'
In this manner we jogged along, making but slow progress, and the sun was setting when we came in view of the willow-lined banks of the Eure, and entered the walnut groves of the outlying forest in which Ezy lay. As we approached we saw that the village was three parts deserted, and the ruined orchards and smokeless chimneys told their own tale. Turning a bend of the grass-grown road we came upon a few children shaking walnuts from a tree, about two hundred paces from us, whilst a man and a woman stood hard by observing them. At the sight of us the woman turned to the man with an alarmed gesture, and he half drew a sword—we saw the white flash, and then, changing his mind, ran off into the forest. The children followed suit, sliding down the trunk of the tree, and fleeing into the brushwood, looking for all the world like little brown rabbits as they dashed into the gaps in the thorn.
As for the woman, she turned slowly and began to walk towards the village.
'They are very bashful here, Jacques,' I said, quickening my pace.
'Except the lady, monsieur,' and then we trotted up alongside her.
Reining in, I asked if she could direct me to the blacksmith's, for there seemed no sign of a forge about. She made no answer but stopped and stared at us through her hair, which fell in thick masses over her forehead and neck. As she did this I saw that she appeared to be of the superior peasant class, but evidently sunk in poverty. She was young, and her features so correct that with circumstances a little altered she would have been more than ordinarily good-looking. At present, however, the face was wan with privation, and there was a frightened look in her eyes. I repeated my question in as gentle a tone as I could command, and she found tongue.
'There is none here, monsieur; but at Anet you will find everything. That is the way, see!' and she pointed down a winding glade, lit up here and there with bars of sunlight until it faded into a dark tunnel of over-arching trees. I felt convinced from her tone and manner that she was trying to put us off, and Jacques burst in.
'Nonsense, my girl, I know there is a smith at Ezy, for but two days back one of Madame of Bidache's horses was shod here. You don't know your own village—try and think.'
'There is none,' she said shortly.
'Very well,' said Jacques, 'we won't trouble you further, and we will find out for ourselves. It will not be difficult.'
We went on a pace or so, when she called out after us.
'Monsieur!'
'What is it?'
She stood twisting the ends of her apron between her fingers and then, suddenly,
'Monsieur, pardon, I will guide you.'
'Oh! that is all very well,' began Jacques; but I interrupted him, wondering a little to myself what this meant.
'Very well and thanks.'
She dropped a courtesy, and then asked with a timid eagerness,
'Monsieur does not come from the Blaisois?'
'Ma foi!No! This is hardly the way from the Orléannois; but lead on, please, it grows late.'
She glanced up again, a suspicion in her eyes, and then without another word went on before us. We followed her down the winding grass-grown lane, past a few straggling cottages where not a soul was visible, and up through the narrow street, where the sight of us drove the few wretched inhabitants into their tumble-down houses, as if we had the plague itself at our saddle bows. Finally we stopped before a cottage of some pretensions to size; but decayed and worn, as all else was in this village, which seemed but half alive. Over the entrance to the cottage hung a faded signboard, marking that it was the local hostelry, and to the right was a small shed, apparently used as a workshop; and here the smith was, seated on a rough bench, gazing into space.
He rose at our approach and made as if he would be off; but his daughter, as the young woman turned out to be, gave him a sign to stay, and he halted, muttering something I could not catch; and as I looked at the gloomy figure of the man, and the musty inn, I said out aloud, 'Morbleu!But it is well we have time to mend our trouble and make Rouvres; thanks, my girl, you might have told us at once instead of making all this fuss,' and bending from the saddle I offered our guide a coin. She fairly snatched at it, and then, colouring up, turned and ran into the inn. I threw another coin to the smith and bade him set about shoeing the horse.
He shuffled this way and that, and then answered dully that he would do the job willingly, but it would take time—two hours.
'But it will be night by then,' I expostulated, 'and I have to go on; I cannot stay here.'
'As monsieur chooses,' answered the clod; 'but, you see, I have nothing ready, and I am slow now; I cannot help it.'
'This is a devil of a place,' I exclaimed, resigning myself to circumstances, and, dismounting, handed the reins to Jacques. As I did so I heard voices from the inn, one apparently that of the girl, and the other that of a man, and it would seem that she was urging something; but what it was I could not catch, nor was I curious as to the point of discussion; but it struck me that as we had to wait here two hours it would be well to inquire if I could get some refreshment for ourselves and a feed for the beasts. For answer to my question I got a gruff 'Go and ask my daughter,' from the smith, who turned as he spoke and began to fumble with his tools. I felt my temper rising hotly, but stayed my arm, and bidding Jacques keep an eye on the horses, stepped towards the door of the inn. As I put my hand on it to press it open some one from within made an effort to keep it shut; but I was in no mood to be trifled with further, and, pushing back the door without further ceremony, stepped in. In doing so I thrust some one back a yard or so, and found that it was the girl who was trying to bar me out. Ashamed of the violence I had shown, I began to apologise, whilst she stood before me rubbing her elbow, and her face flushed and red. The room was bare and drear beyond description. There were a couple of rough tables, a chair or so, an iron pot simmering over a fire of green wood whose pungent odour filled the chamber. In a corner a man lay apparently asleep, a tattered cloak drawn over his features so as to entirely conceal them. I felt in a moment that this was the stranger who had fled on our approach, and that he was playing fox. Guessing there was more behind this than appeared, but not showing any suspicions in the least, I addressed the girl.
'I am truly sorry, and hope you are not hurt; had I known it was you I should have been gentler. I have but come to ask if I can get some wine for ourselves and food for the horses.'
'It is nothing,' she stammered, 'I am not hurt. There is but a little soup here, and for the horses—the grass that grows outside.'
'There is some wine there at any rate,' and I rested my eye on a horn cup, down whose side a red drop was trickling, and then let it fall on the still figure in the corner of the room. 'There is no fear,' I continued, 'you will be paid. I do not look like a gentleman of the road, I trust?'
She shrank back at my words, and it appeared as if a hand moved suddenly under the cloak of the man who lay feigning sleep in the room, and the quick movement was as if he had clutched the haft of a dagger. I was never a brawler or blusterer, and least of all did I wish to worry these poor people; but the times were such that a man's safety lay chiefly in himself, for the writ of the King ran weak in the outlying districts. The whole business, too, was so strange that I was determined to fathom it; and, unbuckling my sword, I placed it on a table so as to be ready on the instant, and then, seating myself on a stool beside it, said somewhat sharply,
'Enough, my girl; get me some wine and take out some to my servant. This will pay for it,' and I rang a fat crown piece on the table. 'Hurry your father if you can, and I will be gone the moment my horse is shod.'
My tone was one not to be denied, and taking up the money she turned to a cupboard and with shaking fingers drew a bottle therefrom and placed it before me. Filling a cup I asked her to bear it out to Jacques, and then leaning back against the wall took a pull at my own goblet, and judge of my surprise when I found I was tasting nothing short of d'Arbois of the '92 vintage!
As I sipped my wine, and speculated how it came there, the girl came back, and seeing that matters were as before began to attend to her cooking. Whatever she had said to the smith apparently had the effect of rousing him to greater activity, for through the open door I heard the puffing of his bellows, and very soon came the clang, clang of his hammer as he beat out a shoe.
It was getting dark now within the room, over which the flames of the fire occasionally blazed up and cast a fitful and uncertain light. Outside, however, there was a moon; and, in a few minutes at the most, my horse would be shod and I would have to continue my journey without having discovered what this little mystery meant. I could not help being a little amused at the manner in which my bashful friend, whose face was so well covered up, kept himself a prisoner in his corner. But at this moment the girl's cooking was finished, and the savoury odour of it was apparently more than he could endure, for he suddenly sprang to his feet exclaiming,
'Nom du diable!I am sick of this, and hungry as a wolf. Give me my supper, Marie, and if he wants to take me let him do so if he can; he will have to fight an old soldier first.'
As he spoke I distinctly saw his hand indicate me, and with an alarmed cry the girl sprang between us. It flashed upon me that my gentleman was, after all, only some one who was wanted, and that he regarded me with as much apprehension as I had regarded him with caution.
'Tush!' I said, 'you good people make a great fuss over nothing. I certainly do not want to take you, my man, and neither you nor your little sweetheart here need be in the least alarmed.'
I had hardly finished speaking when he rushed forward.
'It is the Chevalier! It is Monsieur d'Auriac! Idiot, turkey, pig that I am to have kept my eyes shut and not recognised you. Monsieur, do you not know me—Nicholas—your sergeant, whom you saved from the rope?'
'Where you appear likely to go again, Nicholas; but what are you skulking about here for?' The wood in the fireplace blazed up as I spoke, and I saw Nicholas shift uneasily and look at the girl, who had moved to his side, and stood with her hands holding on to his cloak.
'This place was my home once, monsieur,' he said bitterly, 'and I have come back to it.'
'I see you have, sergeant; but why in this way?'
'Monsieur, I was driven to straits and did a thing. Then they hunted me from Dreux to Rouvres, from Rouvres to Anet——'
'Where you appear to have made free with the duke's cellar, eh?'
'It is not so, monsieur,' burst in the girl; 'neither he nor we have done that. The wine you have drunk was a gift from madame the duchess.'
There was truth in every line of her features, in the fierce little gesture with which she turned upon me in defence of her lover. I was sorry to let my tongue bite so hard, and said so, and went on with my inquiries.
'And from Anet you came here?'
'It is but a stone-throw,' Nicholas answered, 'and I had a business in hand. After which we were going away.'
Whilst he was speaking Marie lit a lantern, and I saw that my ex-sergeant was evidently in the lowest water. He had been a smart soldier, but was now unkempt and dirty, and his eye had the shifty look of a hunted animal. He wore a rusty corselet and a rustier chain cap on his head, drawn over a bandage that covered his ears. As my eye fell on the bandage I called to mind the mutilation that had been inflicted on him, a brand that had cast him out of the pale of all honest men. Nicholas watched my glance, and ground his teeth with rage.
'I will kill him,' he hissed, 'kill him like the dog he is. Monsieur, that was my business!'
'Then de Gomeron——'
'Is but an hour's ride away, monsieur—at Anet.'
'At Anet! What does he do there?'
'Monsieur,' he answered hoarsely, taking me by the sleeve of my doublet, 'I know not; but a fortnight ago he came here with a score of lances at his back and the King's commission in his pocket, and he lords it as if he were the duke himself. Yesterday a great noble came up from the Blaisois, and another whose name I know not has come from Paris; and they hatch treason against the King. Monsieur, I can prove this. You saved my life once, and, beast as I am now, I am still grateful. Come with me. I will settle my score with him; and to-morrow you can bear news to the court that will make you a great man.'
It was one of those moments that require instant decision. I was certainly not going to assist Nicholas in committing a murder. Any such plan of his could be easily stopped, but if what the man said was true, then he had given me information that might be of the greatest value to me. If it was false—well then, I should have a fool's errand for my pains, but be otherwise none the worse off. There was no time to question him in detail; for a second I was silent, and Marie looked from one to another of us with wide-open eyes.
'You have a horse?' I asked.
'Yes, monsieur. It is hidden in the forest not three hundred toises from here.'
'We are ready. Monsieur le Chevalier,' and Jacques' voice broke in upon us, Jacques himself standing in the doorway. My mind was made up that instant, and I decided to take the chance.
'Jacques,' I said, 'I have business here to-night, which must be done alone. Ride on therefore yourself to Rouvres and await me at theGrand Cerf. If anyone tries to hinder you, say that you ride for your master in the King's name. If I am not at Rouvres by morning, make your way to Septeuil. If I do not arrive in two days, go home and do the best you can for yourself. You follow?
'Monsieur.'
'Adieu, then; and Marie, here is something as a wedding portion for you,' and I thrust a handful of gold pieces into her palm, and, being moved by many things, added: 'When this is over, you and Nicholas go to Auriac. I will arrange for you there.'
The girl stared blankly at me for a moment, then suddenly caught my hand and kissed it, and then with a rapid movement flung herself into her lover's arms.
'No,' she said, 'no; take back your gift, monsieur. He will not go.'
'Nonsense, Marie,' and Nicholas gently released her arms. 'I have come back to you to mend my ways, and must begin by paying my debts. Come, monsieur.'
We passed the lacework of trees that bordered the skirts of the forest, Nicholas and I. On our left we could hear the drumming of a horse's hoofs growing fainter and more faint, as Jacques rode through the night to Rouvres. Marie's wailing came to us from behind, and Nicholas, who was walking doggedly along by the neck of my horse, stopped short suddenly and looked back. Turning in my saddle I looked back too, and there she was, in shadowy outline, at the ruined gates of the inn, and again her sobbing cry came to us.
'Morbleu!' I muttered to myself as I saw Nicholas' face twitch in the moonlight; 'I must end this at once,' and then sharply to my companion, 'What stays you? Pick your heart up, man! One would think you go into the bottomless pit, you walk with so tender a foot!'
'I don't know what is in the bottomless pit, monsieur, and, like other fools, would probably go there on the run; but I do know the mercy of M. de Gomeron, and—I am not wont to be so, but my heart is as heavy as lead.'
'Very well; then let us go back. It is like to be a fool's errand with such a guide.'
My words, and the tone they were uttered in, touched him on the raw, and he swung round.
'I will go, monsieur; this way—to the right.'
We turned sharply behind the silently waving arms of a hedge of hornbeam, and it was a relief to find that this cut away all further chance of seeing the pitiful figure at the gates of the inn. Nicholas drew the folds of his frayed cloak over his head, as if to shut out all sound, and hurried onwards—a tall figure, lank and dark, that flitted before me within the shadow of the hedgerow. My horse's knees were hidden by the undergrowth on either side of the winding track, that twined and twisted like a snake under the tangle of grass and weed. This waste over which we passed, grey-green in the moonlight, and swaying in the wind, rolled like a heaving, sighing sea to where it was brought up abruptly by the dark mass of the forest, standing up solidly against the sky as though it were a high coast line. As we forced our way onwards, the swish of the grass was as the churning of water at the bows of a boat, and one could well imagine that the long, shaking plashes of white, mottling the moving surface before us, was caused by the breaking of uneasy water into foam. Of a truth these white plashes were but marguerites.
From the warm, dark depths at our feet myriads of grasshoppers shrilled to each other to be of good cheer, and ever and again we heard the sudden plunge and bustle of a startled hare, as it scuttered away in a mad fear at nothing.
'You count your toises long here, Nicholas,' I remarked, for something to say, as we spattered in and out of a shallow pool; and the gnats, asleep on its surface, rose in a brown cloud, and hummed their anger about our ears.
'They are as we reckon them, monsieur. But a few steps further and we will get my horse; and after that there is no difficulty, for I know each track and byepath of these woods.'
'And I wager that many a fat buck has dropped here to your arquebus on moonlight nights such as this.'
'One does not learn the forest for nothing, M. le Chevalier; but the bucks fell lawfully enough. My grandfather came here as huntsman to Madame Diane; my father succeeded him, and I had followed my father; but for the war——'
'And a smart soldier you made. I remember that when I cut you down from a nasty position I had not time then to hear how you came in such plight. How was it? Tell me the truth.'
'I have almost forgotten how to do so. I will try, however, and make it short. When M. le Marquis bore you off after the duel and the escape of the prisoners, the Captain de Gomeron turned on me, and, damning me from head to toe, swore he would flay me to ribbons. Feeling sure he would do so, and careless of the consequences, I answered back—with the result you know. Marked as I was, it was useless to seek employment anywhere, and then I became what I am, and will end on the wheel.'
'I don't think so,' I said; but he interrupted,
'At any rate not before I have paid my debt, and the bill presses.'
I had purposely worked up to this.
'See here, sergeant,' I said, 'no nonsense. Brush off that bee you have on your head. You are here to-day to attend to my business, not your own. You say you are sick of your present life. Well, I have means to give you another chance, and I will do so; but I repeat again "no nonsense." You understand?'
He stood silently for a moment, looking this way and that. We were within a yard or so of the forest, and its shadow covered him, all but his face, which was turned to me, drawn and white. He was struggling against old habits of absolute obedience, and they won.
'I understand, M. le Chevalier.'
'Very well, then, go on, and remember what I have said.'
He turned and stepped forwards; 'This way, and mind the branches overhead,' and we entered the forest, my horse leaping a shallow ditch that separated it from the grass land. We took a soft turf-covered path, overhung by branches, and went on for about fifty paces before coming to a halt, which we did in a small irregular patch of trees that lay in the full flood of the moonlight. In the darkness beyond I heard the gentle murmur of a small spring, and then the distinct movement of a heavy body and the clink of iron. My hand reached to my holster in a flash, but Nicholas saw the gesture, and said, 'It is the horse. A moment, monsieur,' and lifting up the curtain of leaves beside him, from which, as he did so, the dew fell in a soft shower, he dived into the thicket, to reappear again leading the long black length of his horse. It struck me at once that the beast was of uncommon size, and this, and the white star on its forehead, brought to my mind the recollection of de Rône's great English charger, Couronne.
'Harnibleu!' I burst out; 'you seem to be in the lowest water, and here you have a horse worth a hundred pistoles at the least!'
'Did you see her by daylight, monsieur, you would know that twice a hundred pistoles would not purchase her. Do you not know her, M. le Chevalier? This is Couronne, M. de Rône's charger!'
'Couronne! I thought so. And how the devil do you come by her?'
'Her reins were in the wind when I caught her; a fair prize of war, and M. de Rône will never need her more. Since I got her she has saved me twice, and if I can help it we shall never part.'
He stroked the mare's sleek neck, wet and glistening with the dew, and, quickly mounting, swung her round to the bit and laid her beside me. It was not the time for talk, and we drew out of the clearing in single file, and, after forcing our way through the wet and shining leaves around us, found a bridle path. Along this my guide went at a trot. On either side of us the silent tree trunks stretched to an infinite distance in gloomy colonnades. Overhead, the boughs swayed and shook sadly; below, the dry leaves hissed and crackled. Once, when we had slackened pace for a moment, the sullen groaning of an old and very savage boar came to us, and we heard him grinding his tusks in his lair of juniper. At another time we surprised a number of deer in an open glade, and, startled by our sudden appearance, they dashed off with a wild rush into the forest, and then all was still. Beyond the glade the roadway widened, so that two might keep abreast, and down this we went at a gallop, to find ourselves once more in the endless aisles of the forest, passing through a ghostly light that barely enabled the horses to pick their way in and out amongst the huge moss-grown trees standing in measureless numbers around us, and where each pace took them fetlock-deep into the carpet of wet and withered leaves. Amidst the creaking of the boughs overhead, and the churn of the leaves at our feet, we rode on, nose to tail, Nicholas leading the way with unerring certainty. What his thoughts were, I knew not; but as I looked at the square outlines of the figure before me I could not but feel pity for this man, reduced to such a condition. True, the life of a common soldier was not such as to make a man squeamish about many things, but the ex-sergeant had always struck me as being a man of a different stamp to the generality of his fellows, and it was a thousand pities to see him forced to be a rogue; de Gomeron had truly much to answer for. But if I could I would mend this matter.
I had done too little good in the world to neglect the opportunity that seemed to present itself to me, so as we went on I weaved a little plan to give the man another start in life. I had already a rough idea when I parted with those gold pieces to Marie, but pulled all the threads together as we rode along, fully resolving to give my plan effect as soon as the business I had in hand was done. And of this business I could not hope much. We were going straight into the lion's mouth, as it were, for, whether de Gomeron held the King's commission or not, he had twenty lances at his back at Anet; and who on earth would question him if a crop-eared thief and his companion were slain. Besides, even if we were not discovered, I could see no way of laying hold of the tail of the conspiracy by floundering through a measureless forest at night, and finally skulking round the castle like a homeless cat. I half began to repent me of the whole affair, and to wish that I had tossed the venture up and down a trifle more in my mind before I embarked upon it. At the worst, however, perhaps it meant nothing more than a night in the forest, and, the next day, a tired horse and man. On the other hand, there was, or rather is, such a thing as luck in the world, and did I make a discovery of any consequence my hand would be much stronger. Perchance, indeed, I might be assured of success, and then—other things might happen. Whilst I was thus ruminating, Nicholas suddenly pulled up, and held out a warning hand.
'What is it?' I asked in a low tone.
'Hist!' he said, and then in a rapid whisper, 'another fifty yards and we come to the open. Anet lies before us, and the rest of the way must be done on foot.'
'And the horses?'
'Fasten them here. You have a picketing rope?'
'Yes—round the neck of the horse.'
'Good; I had not noticed it before, and was half afraid you had none, monsieur.'
The horses were soon securely fastened, and, when this was done, Nicholas spoke low and earnestly: 'Should we be discovered, monsieur, there is no use making a standing fight. The odds are too many. When we come to the open I will show you a withered oak. This is exactly opposite where the horses are—in this direction. If we are pursued, make for the forest, and lie down. The chances are they will pass us by. Then to the horses and follow me. If I go down—ride northwards for your life.'
'How the devil am I to find my way through the trees?'
Nicholas shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'That was my affair.'
We had gone too far to go back, however, and placing my pistols in my belt, and loosening my sword in its sheath, I followed Nicholas with cautious footsteps. As he said, in about fifty yards we came to the open, and halted close to a huge oak, bald of all leaves, with its gnarled trunk riven and scarred by lightning. Before us a level stretch of turf sloped gently down towards what was once an ornamental lake, but now overgrown with the rankest weeds. In the centre of the lake was a small island, on which was set a summerhouse, fashioned like a Moorish kiosque, and beyond this arose, huge and square, the enormous façade of the chateau. It was in darkness except for an oriel window above a long terrace on the east wing, which was bright with light, and in the courtyard below there was evidently a fire. Men were singing around it, and a lilting chorus came to our ears.
Nicholas pointed to the window, then looked at the priming of his wheel lock pistol and whispered hoarsely, 'We must keep in the shadow, monsieur. Stay—this is the tree; you cannot mistake it, and now come on. Be careful not to trip or stumble, and, above all, do not cough.'
No worse warning than the latter could have been given to me, and I all but choked myself in my efforts to restrain an almost uncontrollable desire either to sneeze or cough. Luckily, I managed to hold myself in. Inch by inch we crept onwards, keeping well in the shadow, and edging our way round the frills of the forest. I could hear Nicholas breathing hard, and from time to time he stopped to rest; but I was a glad man to find I was not winded, and that therefore I must be truly as strong again as ever I was. At last, by dint of creeping, crawling, and wriggling along, we worked our way to within twenty paces of the terrace, above which the stained glass of the oriel window glowed with light. Here we came to a stop and watched. Sometimes we saw a shadow moving backwards and forwards in the light of the window, then the shadow was joined by another, and both stopped, as if the two men to whom they belonged were in earnest converse. The merriment from the courtyard was unceasing, and whatever may have been the dark plots weaving upstairs, below there was nothing but the can and the catch.
'We must get to the window,' I whispered with an inquiring look.
'By the terrace,' said Nicholas in answer, and as he spoke there came to us the faint but distinct sound of a horn, apparently from the very depths of the forest, and the notes roused a brace of hounds in the courtyard, who bayed into the night. Nicholas gripped my arm, and I turned to him in surprise. His face was pale, he was shaking all over like an aspen, and his black eyes were dilated with fear.
'Did you hear that, monsieur?' he said thickly.
'Diable!What? I hear three different things—dogs, men, and someone blowing a horn.'
'Then you did hear it—the horn?'
'Yes. What of it? No doubt a post on its way to Anet.'
'No post ever rang that blast, monsieur. That is the Wild Huntsman, and the blast means death.'
As he spoke it came again, wild and shrill with an eerie flourish, the like of which I had never heard before. The dogs seemed to go mad with the sound, there was a hubbub in the courtyard, and someone in the chamber above the terrace threw open the sash and peered out into the night. I thought at first it was de Gomeron; but the voice was not his, for, after looking for a moment, he gave a quick order to the men below and stepped in again. As for Nicholas, he seemed beside himself, and I had to hold him by main force by my side, or he would have broken and fled.
'Diable!' I said, 'sit still, fool—see, there are a couple of horsemen gone in search of your Wild Huntsman, who has been so nearly spoiling our soup. They will occupy him at any rate—sit still.'
The men rode by us slowly, one of them carrying a torch, and, turning to the right, trotted off into the forest, cursing the orders they had received to go forth after the horn-winder. As they passed, I began to breathe more freely, for had they gone to the left it was an even chance that they would have discovered our horses, owing to one of the beasts neighing, a danger always to be guarded against in an ambuscade. In a minute or so Nicholas, too, began to get more composed, and seeing this I determined to prick him into anger, for then he would fear nothing.
'Pull up, man,' I said; 'your ears lie beyond that pane of glass. Do you not want them back?'
He put his hand up to the side of his head with a muttered curse, to which de Gomeron's name was linked, and I saw that he was better.
'Now,' I whispered, 'for the window.'
'We must get to the terrace,' he answered. 'From there it might be done.' And with a hurried look behind him, at which I began to laugh in a low tone of mockery, he crawled forward rapidly. I followed with equal speed and caution, and in a half minute we had gained the shadow of the terrace, and, working along its ivy-covered wall, got to the main building. Here we cast about for some means to get up. It was not possible to do this by holding on to the ivy, as if it came away there would be a fall and all our fat would be in the fire. The ascent had to be made noiselessly, and, as I looked at the high wall before us, I began to think it was impossible. Running my eye on the lichen-grey face of the main building, however, I noticed something that looked like a series of huge monograms, with a crescent above each, cut in high relief on the stones, beginning about ten feet from the ground.
'We might get up that way,' I whispered.
Nicholas nodded, with a pale face. In his excitement he had forgotten the Wild Huntsman, much to my satisfaction.
'Bend then, and I will ascend from your back.'
He leaned forwards against the wall, and climbing on to his shoulders, I found that I might possibly raise myself by the monograms, which I discovered to be the letters H. D. interlaced in one another, the initials of the second Henry and Diane de Poitiers; and the crescent was, as is well-known, Madame Diane's crest. Taking a long breath, I lifted myself slowly—there was but an inch or so to hold on to—and at last found a crevice in which I could just put the point of my boot. This was enough for me to change my hold to the next higher monogram, and finally I came to a level with the parapet of the terrace. Here there was a difficulty. Every time I stretched my hand out to grasp the parapet I found that I could not reach over, and that my fingers slipped off from the slime and moss on the stones. Three times I made the attempt, and swung back three times, until I began to feel that the effort was beyond me. There was, however, one chance, and quietly thrusting my boot forward, I began to feel amidst the ivy for a possible foothold, and, to my delight, found it rest at once on a small projecting ledge that ran round the terrace. The remainder of my task was easy, and the next moment I found myself lying flat on my face beneath the oriel window.
Here I paused to recover myself, peering down at Nicholas, who was making an attempt to raise himself by his hands to reach the monograms and climb to me. 'Steady,' I whispered, 'and catch this.' Rapidly unwinding a silken sash I wore round my waist, in the fashion I had learned when serving in Spain, I dropped one end towards him, and after an effort or two he managed to seize it. Then I looped a fold of the silk round a buttress of the parapet, and, holding on to the other end, told Nicholas to climb, and as the sash tightened suddenly, I cast up a prayer that it might not break. It was, however, of Eastern make, and one may have hung a bombard to it with safety. I heard Nicholas breathing hard, and once or twice the ivy rustled more than it ought to have, but at last his head appeared over the parapet and he too was beside me. A moment after we saw the flash of a torch in the forest and heard the voices of the men who had gone forth returning, and then three instead of two horsemen appeared, riding towards the main entrance.
'There, Nicholas, is your Wild Huntsman. Are you satisfied now?'
And he hung his head like a great dog that has been detected in something wrong.
'Now for the window,' I said. 'I will rise slowly and find out what I can. You keep your pistol ready and your eyes open. Do not rise, and remember my orders.'
'There is a broken pane to the left; it is half-hidden by the curtain. You can hear and see from there.'
As he said this I rose softly to my feet, and finding the broken pane without any difficulty, peered in.
The room was bright with the light of candles, and at a table covered with papers were seated two men, whilst a third was standing and pointing with his fingers at a scroll. In the man with his back to me I had no difficulty in recognising de Gomeron. The one looking towards me was assuredly Biron, for his was a face that once seen could never be forgotten. As for the man who was standing beside him, I knew him not, though subsequently—but I anticipate.
Biron was evidently in a high state of excitement. He was biting at the end of his dark moustache, and the fingers of his hand were playing nervously with the star on his breast, whilst his shifty, treacherous eyes were turning now on de Gomeron, now on the figure standing at his elbow. He seemed to be hesitating, and I heard de Gomeron say:
'This is my price—not money, not land, not a title, but only a few words. You have each one, my lord, your share of the spoils, set down in writing. I do not want so much even. All I ask is your word of honour to favour my suit with the King. For me the word of Biron is enough, and I know his Majesty can refuse you nothing.'
'My God!' exclaimed Biron, and writhed in his chair.
'The Marshal might give me the promise I seek, Lafin,' and de Gomeron turned to the man who was standing at Biron's elbow. 'The word will give me a wife—not much of a reward.'
'And the lands of Bidache and Pelouse, eh?'
I almost fell forwards in my eagerness to hear, and only checked myself in time.
'Exactly,' sneered de Gomeron. 'Do you think I have risked my life for the good of my health? See here, Chevalier,' and he bent forward and whispered a word or so that made the other pale, and then de Gomeron leaned back in his chair and smiled. Biron did not apparently see or hear. His forehead was resting on his clasped hand, and he seemed to be revolving the hazard of some great step. As for me, I thought I caught the words, 'your instant help,' followed by 'lances' and 'power,' and guessed—I was not wrong—that the captain had forced Lafin's hand.
'My dear de Gomeron,' he said, 'the Marshal is willing enough, but you know the common talk, that the King has other views for Madame, and that M. d'Ayen——' But Biron interposed:
'M. de Gomeron, you ask too much. Madame de la Bidache is of the first nobility. Tremouille was my friend. It is too much.'
'And I give Monseigneur a crown.'
'Peste!My lord, after all M. de Gomeron has deserved his price, and a good sword and a better head must not be thrown away. Remember, monseigneur, an open hand makes faithful hearts,' said Lafin.
'But the King would never consent,' began Biron.
'Give me your word to help me, monseigneur. I will do the rest for myself.'
'Give it, my lord.'
Biron hesitated for a moment, and then suddenly threw up his hands. 'Very well, let it be as you wish. I promise, M. de Gomeron.'
'Enough, my lord; I thank you. The Chevalier Lafin has laid before you in detail all our resources. Let me now show you this.' He unrolled a parchment that was before him, and handed it to the Marshal. 'Here,' he added, 'are the signatures of all. It only needs that of Biron; now sign.'
I could hear the beating of my heart in the silence that followed, and then Biron said hoarsely, 'No! no! I will never put my name to paper.'
'Morbleu!Marshal,' burst out Lafin, 'This is no time for nibbling at a cherry. Tremouille and Epernon have signed. Put your seal to the scroll, and the day it reaches M. de Savoye, thirty thousand troops are across the frontier, and you will change the cabbage gardens of Biron for the coronet of Burgundy and La Breese.'
'And see your head on a crown piece, Marshal,' added de Gomeron.
'But we have not heard, Lafin—' began the Marshal.
'We will hear to-night, monseigneur—that horn meant news, and Zamet never fails. Curse the low-bred Italian!Pardieu!he is here,' and as he spoke, I heard what seemed to be three distinct knocks at a carved door, and, Lafin opening it, a man booted and spurred entered the room. He was splashed with mud as one who had ridden fast and far.
'Zamet!' exclaimed the Marshal and de Gomeron, both rising, and the face of the former was pale as death.
'Good evening, gentlemen!Maledetto!But I have had a devil of a ride, and some fool kept winding a will-o'-the-wisp kind of horn that led me a fine dance. It was lucky I met your men.'
'Then that blast we heard was not yours?'
'Corpo di Bacco!No, Chevalier.'
I was a glad man to think that Nicholas, who was crouching at my feet, did not hear this, or there might have been a catastrophe, but that indeed was not long delayed.
'Well, friends, you all seem to have pale faces—would you not like to hear the news? I have ridden post to tell you.'
There was no answer, and the Italian continued: 'I suppose I must give it, make your minds easy. It is all over—she died last night. We are free at any rate from the enmity of Gabrielle—she knew too much.'
'Did it hurt her?' asked Biron nervously.
'I don't know,' answered Zamet brutally, 'I have never tasted the Borgia citron myself.'
'Mon Dieu!' exclaimed the Marshal, springing to his feet, 'this is too terrible,' and he began to pace up and down, whilst the other three remained in whispered converse, their eyes now and again turning to Biron, who walked the room like a caged beast. Nicholas had risen slowly to his feet despite my orders, and was looking over my shoulders with a white face and blazing eyes. I dared not tell him to go back; but, with a warning look at him, strained my ears to catch what was being said, but could hear nothing, until at length Zamet raised his voice: 'Have done with it, Marshal, and sign. After all, Madame de Beaufort was no more than a——,' and he used a foul word. 'The King is prostrate now; but in a week Gabrielle will be forgotten, and then anything might happen. He is beginning to recover. He already writes verses on the lost one,' he went on with a grin, 'charmanteGabrielle—diavolo!but you should have seen her as she lay dead—she was green as a jade cup.'
'Be still, dog,' and Biron turned fiercely on him. The Italian stepped back, his hand on his dagger; but in a moment he recovered himself. His black eyebrows lifted, and his upper lip drew back over his teeth in a sneer.
'I did not know Monseigneur would be so affected; but time presses and we need the name of Biron to that scroll. Hand the Marshal the pen, Lafin.'
'It is here,' and de Gomeron, dipping a pen in a silver ink-stand, held it out in his hand.
Biron made a half step forward to take it, when a thing happened. I felt myself suddenly thrust aside, and there was a blinding flash, a loud report, and a shout from Nicholas, 'Missed, by God!'
There was absolutely no time to do anything but make for the horses. Nicholas had fired at de Gomeron in his mad thirst for revenge, and had practically given our lives away. In the uproar and din that followed we slid down the sash like apes, and dashed towards the horses. Some one shouted 'Traitor—traitor,' and let fly at us twice as we ran across the open space. From the courtyard we could hear the hurry and bustle of men suddenly aroused, and as we reached the oak we heard the bay of the bloodhounds, and the thunder of hoofs in pursuit.