Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Eighteen.The Doctor is busy.But the King could not conceal his anxiety to be once more in the saddleen routefor Windsor; and although Sir John Carrbroke urged him to remain so far as the dictates of hospitality required, yet he forbore when he saw the impatience of his guest to be once more on his way, and at dinner the night before the departure he spoke only of the journey to be undertaken on the following day.“You will find the roads safe enough from here onward, sir,” he said courteously, and the King bowed gravely.“I trust so,” he said; “I trust so. England had been represented to me as a land where everyone was safe.”Sir John leaned forward.“I doubt not,” he said, “that when you represent to his Majesty the peril you encountered the south will be cleared of that roving band.”The King laughed.“Well, we did something towards ridding the country of the robbers, eh, Leoni? I—” He stopped speaking, for at that minute there was the sound of a horse cantering into the courtyard, and a minute later Sir John’s own serving-man entered the apartment.“It is a message, Sir John,” he said, “for my young master.” And he handed a document to Ned Carrbroke, who hastily unfastened it and read.“Lord Hurst orders me to return at once,” he said to his father.“Ah,” said Sir John. “You see, sir,” he exclaimed with a smile, looking at the King, “how important an individual the boy there is becoming. But,” he went on, “you were expecting this summons, my lad, and now as it happens you will be able to act as additional escort to our guest—that is, if he will permit.”“Permit!” cried the King. “I shall be glad to have our young friend’s company—glad indeed.” And as he spoke Sir John gazed musingly at the sparkling ring which his guest wore, one which flashed in the light of the candles as Francis made a gesture with his hand.A few minutes later Ned Carrbroke glanced at his father, and then rose from his chair, making a sign to Denis as he did so.“Come,” he said quietly, as the two lads moved to the door and passed out. “It was in my mind before, and now it has happened just as I would have wished. I shall come with you.”“Yes,” answered Denis. “I am glad.”“I shall be able to show you much,” the other went on. “You have never seen a Court; I shall be able to introduce you to that of our King.”“Well,” said Denis hesitatingly, “I have been to Fontainebleau.”“Fontainebleau? Where’s that?”“The Court of the King of France.”“Ah! You have seen King Francis?”“Yes.”“What is he like?”“Brave, handsome, noble!”“So is my King too. You will have to stop with me in England and serve King Henry.”While Denis accompanied his new-found friend the talk went on in the big wainscotted dining-room, and the King, who was leaning back in his chair, had finished a long story of the chase, when his host half rose.“If you will excuse me, my lord, for a few minutes,” he said, “I have to give an order as to your departure to-morrow?”Francis made an inclination of assent.“When you visit France,” he said, “I trust, sir, that I shall be able to make you some return for your kindness to me and to my followers here.” And then a minute later, left alone with his two companions, the King yawned. “Gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “do not let me detain you.” And Leoni and Saint Simon rose, the doctor hesitating a moment at the door.“You do not, sir,” he began, “see any disadvantage in—”“In what?” said the King sharply.“Why, sir, in our taking this English stripling along with us on the morrow?”“By my sword, no!” said the King. “Why should I?”“He is keen and clever.”“And what of that?”“Simply this, sir: he might divine the truth. A word, a look—”“Leoni, have I not acted my part well till now?”“Yes, sir.”“Then—”“With your permission, sir; you are a King, and those who are chosen by Heaven to reign cannot assume the guise of other men.”“But my disguise, Leoni—my disguise!”“Has been admirable, sir.”“Then trust me for the future,” was the reply.And as the door closed and a puff of air caused the lights on the table to dance, the King leaned back in his chair and just then caught his own reflection in a tall glass at the further end of the chamber.“Ah,” he mused, “Leoni doubts of my address. Let him be quite assured. And this Henry who has ambitions on my land of France! Shortly I shall meet him, and my strength will be greater than his since I shall know who he is, and he—he will be ignorant as to who I am.“Never in FranceShall England reign!”he hummed.“To-morrow I shall meet him, and then that stone—for Leoni must be right—that jewel will be mine, and the last link which binds us to the old invasion will be snapped.”The King rose and took a turn up and down the apartment.“I must speak again with Leoni,” he said. “Where has he gone?” And he lifted aportièreand walked out of the apartment, entering a long corridor where a coloured lamp hung from the ceiling. “Our host is well lodged,” he continued musingly, as he passed on, stopping at a door through which a stream of light issued forth.The King pushed the door, which swung back noiselessly on its hinges, and gazed inside, to see Leoni sitting at a table, studiously intent upon some work—lost in the depths. He called softly:“Leoni!”The doctor did not turn his head.“Leoni!” said the King once more, raising his voice; and the man of learning leaped to his feet and came towards his master.“My lord!” he ejaculated.The King stepped into the room, and the door closed behind him.“Busily engaged, Master Leoni?” he said bluffly.The doctor bowed.“In your service, sir,” he replied humbly.

But the King could not conceal his anxiety to be once more in the saddleen routefor Windsor; and although Sir John Carrbroke urged him to remain so far as the dictates of hospitality required, yet he forbore when he saw the impatience of his guest to be once more on his way, and at dinner the night before the departure he spoke only of the journey to be undertaken on the following day.

“You will find the roads safe enough from here onward, sir,” he said courteously, and the King bowed gravely.

“I trust so,” he said; “I trust so. England had been represented to me as a land where everyone was safe.”

Sir John leaned forward.

“I doubt not,” he said, “that when you represent to his Majesty the peril you encountered the south will be cleared of that roving band.”

The King laughed.

“Well, we did something towards ridding the country of the robbers, eh, Leoni? I—” He stopped speaking, for at that minute there was the sound of a horse cantering into the courtyard, and a minute later Sir John’s own serving-man entered the apartment.

“It is a message, Sir John,” he said, “for my young master.” And he handed a document to Ned Carrbroke, who hastily unfastened it and read.

“Lord Hurst orders me to return at once,” he said to his father.

“Ah,” said Sir John. “You see, sir,” he exclaimed with a smile, looking at the King, “how important an individual the boy there is becoming. But,” he went on, “you were expecting this summons, my lad, and now as it happens you will be able to act as additional escort to our guest—that is, if he will permit.”

“Permit!” cried the King. “I shall be glad to have our young friend’s company—glad indeed.” And as he spoke Sir John gazed musingly at the sparkling ring which his guest wore, one which flashed in the light of the candles as Francis made a gesture with his hand.

A few minutes later Ned Carrbroke glanced at his father, and then rose from his chair, making a sign to Denis as he did so.

“Come,” he said quietly, as the two lads moved to the door and passed out. “It was in my mind before, and now it has happened just as I would have wished. I shall come with you.”

“Yes,” answered Denis. “I am glad.”

“I shall be able to show you much,” the other went on. “You have never seen a Court; I shall be able to introduce you to that of our King.”

“Well,” said Denis hesitatingly, “I have been to Fontainebleau.”

“Fontainebleau? Where’s that?”

“The Court of the King of France.”

“Ah! You have seen King Francis?”

“Yes.”

“What is he like?”

“Brave, handsome, noble!”

“So is my King too. You will have to stop with me in England and serve King Henry.”

While Denis accompanied his new-found friend the talk went on in the big wainscotted dining-room, and the King, who was leaning back in his chair, had finished a long story of the chase, when his host half rose.

“If you will excuse me, my lord, for a few minutes,” he said, “I have to give an order as to your departure to-morrow?”

Francis made an inclination of assent.

“When you visit France,” he said, “I trust, sir, that I shall be able to make you some return for your kindness to me and to my followers here.” And then a minute later, left alone with his two companions, the King yawned. “Gentlemen,” he exclaimed, “do not let me detain you.” And Leoni and Saint Simon rose, the doctor hesitating a moment at the door.

“You do not, sir,” he began, “see any disadvantage in—”

“In what?” said the King sharply.

“Why, sir, in our taking this English stripling along with us on the morrow?”

“By my sword, no!” said the King. “Why should I?”

“He is keen and clever.”

“And what of that?”

“Simply this, sir: he might divine the truth. A word, a look—”

“Leoni, have I not acted my part well till now?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then—”

“With your permission, sir; you are a King, and those who are chosen by Heaven to reign cannot assume the guise of other men.”

“But my disguise, Leoni—my disguise!”

“Has been admirable, sir.”

“Then trust me for the future,” was the reply.

And as the door closed and a puff of air caused the lights on the table to dance, the King leaned back in his chair and just then caught his own reflection in a tall glass at the further end of the chamber.

“Ah,” he mused, “Leoni doubts of my address. Let him be quite assured. And this Henry who has ambitions on my land of France! Shortly I shall meet him, and my strength will be greater than his since I shall know who he is, and he—he will be ignorant as to who I am.

“Never in FranceShall England reign!”

“Never in FranceShall England reign!”

he hummed.

“To-morrow I shall meet him, and then that stone—for Leoni must be right—that jewel will be mine, and the last link which binds us to the old invasion will be snapped.”

The King rose and took a turn up and down the apartment.

“I must speak again with Leoni,” he said. “Where has he gone?” And he lifted aportièreand walked out of the apartment, entering a long corridor where a coloured lamp hung from the ceiling. “Our host is well lodged,” he continued musingly, as he passed on, stopping at a door through which a stream of light issued forth.

The King pushed the door, which swung back noiselessly on its hinges, and gazed inside, to see Leoni sitting at a table, studiously intent upon some work—lost in the depths. He called softly:

“Leoni!”

The doctor did not turn his head.

“Leoni!” said the King once more, raising his voice; and the man of learning leaped to his feet and came towards his master.

“My lord!” he ejaculated.

The King stepped into the room, and the door closed behind him.

“Busily engaged, Master Leoni?” he said bluffly.

The doctor bowed.

“In your service, sir,” he replied humbly.

Chapter Nineteen.The glittering stone.“You are satisfied, I trust, doctor, with our programme?” said the King, in a slightly ironical tone, as he passed to the window, humming an old hunting song as he tapped the panes, while Leoni remained standing near the table at which he had been busily engaged writing.“Sir—” he began.“Sit down, Master Leoni; sit down. You can respect my disguise better, and also more thoroughly please me. I was saying, you are satisfied?”“Everything, sir, that you order is the best. Of that I am convinced; and yet, sir, I am anxious about the Majesty of France. I am common clay, sir. I am nothing; I can die; whereas you—”“No, no, Leoni; not here, not here. We have left that in France. Do you not understand? Just at present we are travelling companions, and I look to you and to your great learning for assistance, just as I received it in the forest that night; and then it was timely indeed.”“You are too indulgent, my lord, to any poor attainments that your servant may possess. Such as they are, they will always be at my lord’s service,” replied Leoni, and he slowly resumed his seat in the high-backed chair, in obedience to a commanding gesture from the King.Francis laughed lightly.“The best swordsman,” he said, “in all my fair kingdom of France—cut, parry, and point; the greatest savant; and, by my sword, the best of patrists.—No, no, Leoni, old friend, I am not too indulgent,” and he gave his follower a keen glance. “But as to the route; is it good to start to-morrow?”Leoni bowed.“Yes, sir, it is good,” he said, and he blew some few grains of sand off the paper at which he had been engaged.“Ah!” said the King. “’Tis well.”“And then, sir—”“Then—I do not understand.”Leoni leaned forward, and with his elbows on the table joined the tips of his fingers, and then clasped his hands and, with the weird strange look in his eyes, said:“What does my lord propose to do?”“To do? Why, to go to the Court of our quick-tempered brother Henry at this palace of his at Windsor.”“Ah!” said Leoni.“You are doubtful?”“I think, sir, that there may be difficulties in the way.” And the speaker glanced at the document before him.“Difficulties for me! You are mad.”“No, sir, only cautious. When you are in France, at Fontainebleau, at Compiegne, in Paris, no matter where, does his Majesty the King receive any errant English nobleman who may be abroad to study the world? I think not. Your minister would inquire into the traveller’s papers, and ask whence he came, and why.”The King turned thoughtful in a moment, and the haughty look died away on his lips.“By Saint Louis, I never thought of that! Leoni, you are wiser than I.”Leoni gazed intently at the King, who winced; and Francis ended by putting his hand before his own eyes, as if the peculiar fixed stare annoyed him.“I was arguing by analogy, sir. Is it likely that this English monarch will act differently from the first King in Christendom? I think not. Henry apes your Majesty. It is you, Sire, who lead, and whom other kings follow. Go in your proper person, and there is not a door in all this land, or in any other, which can be thrown open wide enough to admit you; but—”“Leoni,” interrupted the King, “what are you writing?”“A suggestion, sir, to offer you.”The King crossed the chamber, and, leaning over Leoni’s shoulder, read out the words:“To our well-beloved Cousin, Henry, King of England.“Dear Cousin and King,—“The bearer of this our letter, the noble Comte Reginald Herault de la Seine of Angomar and Villay, is our good friend. We ask you to receive him as such, and to permit him to see your Court, of which all the world speaks, and your kingdom of England, whose power is so beneficent and so mighty an agent of Heaven’s will on this earth.”“Will it serve, sir?” asked Leoni.“Of course!” cried the King; and snatching the pen from the doctor’s hand, he took the letter to the other side of the table and clumsily scribbled down a signature. “There,” he cried, tossing the letter back; “will that do?”Leoni fixed him with his eyes and shrugged his shoulders slightly, and his peculiar cynical smile played about his lips.“I wish, Leoni, you wouldn’t stare at me like that,” cried the King petulantly. “Yes. I know; it is bad—not like your regular writing. I don’t pass my time handling a pen.”“I was not thinking of the writing, sir, but of the signature.”“Oh, I see,” cried the King; “I am not used to it. I shall write it better by-and-by. Well, won’t that one do?”“Your lordship had not thought before you put pen to paper.”“Yes, I did; I thought that the sooner I got it over the better. Well, what do you want now?”“I was wondering,” said Leoni, with a mocking smile, “what King Henry would think of a Comte de la Seine who writes a letter in the King’s name to introduce himself.”“Bah!” cried the King angrily. “What an idiot! No; it was my honest nature rebelling against deceit. Here, Leoni, what’s to be done?”“I’ll write the letter over again, sir, and you will sign it this time as the King.”“Good!” murmured Francis.The letter was rewritten, and the King signed.“With this passport, sir, King Henry’s Court at Windsor will be free to you and to yours.”“Excellent,” said the King, and he glanced at the document endorsed with the royal signature—“François, R.”—at which he smiled with self-satisfaction. “Now nothing more remains to be done.”The King looked fixedly at his servant, and then laid his hand on the latter’s arm.“It is good,” he said. “What you have done is well done. Leoni, with mind and sword you have served me well, and that France which we both love with loyalty and faith. And now—now that we are nearing our journey’s end, you hold it still to be the truth that Henry guards jealously in his possession this jewel, which in his hands is an agent for the downfall of France?”“I hold it to be true, sir,” said Leoni solemnly, and he laid his hand on a little golden crucifix which lay on the table before him. “I hold it to be true, and that the old ambition which brought the English hordes to our country is kept alive by the influence of that jewel. He will serve France well who reclaims it and restores it to its rightful place—your crown, Sire.” And the speaker dropped on one knee, but the King motioned him to rise.“Not now,” he said; “not now.” And then, as his royal master appeared to be lost in thought, Leoni went on; “Never, sir, would I have brought this matter to your notice, deeply though it concerns the welfare of France, had I not been convinced.”“And why so?”“Because, sir, I knew your nature—reckless, valiant, ready to risk all, ay, even your life, when the interests of your country are involved.”“And rightly so. It is as a Valois should act, as a Valois will act to the end.”“Yes, sir; and yet I dreaded at first to speak, for I foresaw something of what would happen, since to those who study deeply a vision of the future is vouchsafed at times, and I realised even then what might be your resolve—namely, to undertake the perilous quest yourself.”“It was for France.”“Yes, sir—”And then the King, in a softened voice, said slowly:“You blame me, Leoni?”“It is not for such as I to blame. All that you have done, sir, is good; but there is the future. Of that we will take thought. You are in a strange land, sir, amidst people who to-morrow may be foes. You are far from the army which would follow you to death, and to meet the dangers which may come into your path there are but three swords, three loyal hearts.”“And they will be enough,” said the King. “Leoni, old friend, you must have no fear.”“I have none, sir.”“Well,” said the King, “between ourselves, Leoni, I have. This thing begins to look more awkward now we are getting so near. King Henry is always very civil to me in his letters, and no doubt he will give the Comte de la Loire—”“Seine, sir—Seine.”“Bah! Yes, of course. I knew it was some river. I say: I mustn’t make such a mistake as that again, or he will find me out. Here, hadn’t we better change the name to something else? Seine—Seine—it’s rather a stupid name.”“Too late, sir,” said Leoni earnestly. “You must hold to it now. But you were about to say something, my lord.”“Yes, of course,” cried the King hastily. “Suppose Henry does find me out, and has got me there. Why, by my sword, Leoni, he’ll hold me to ransom, and instead of my getting back that one jewel he’ll make me give up my whole crown.”“No, sir; no, sir,” cried Leoni earnestly. “Have more faith in yourself, and go forward. You cannot turn back now. You will soon get used to the part you assume, and it will be easy.”“I don’t know so much about that,” said the King. “I am a bad actor. Why, you can’t keep it up yourself. If I hadn’t stopped you just now you’d have been down upon your knees to kiss my hand.”“That was only my reverence and duty to my King.”“Yes, I know,” said Francis angrily; “but just recollect that you have no king now, and let’s have no reverence, for if you get me regularly into trouble over this, good a servant as you have been to me, your friends will have to prepare your tomb, a short one too, for you will lose your head.”“In the service of my country and my lord, sir,” said Leoni calmly. “I shall have done my duty. But we shall not fail.”

“You are satisfied, I trust, doctor, with our programme?” said the King, in a slightly ironical tone, as he passed to the window, humming an old hunting song as he tapped the panes, while Leoni remained standing near the table at which he had been busily engaged writing.

“Sir—” he began.

“Sit down, Master Leoni; sit down. You can respect my disguise better, and also more thoroughly please me. I was saying, you are satisfied?”

“Everything, sir, that you order is the best. Of that I am convinced; and yet, sir, I am anxious about the Majesty of France. I am common clay, sir. I am nothing; I can die; whereas you—”

“No, no, Leoni; not here, not here. We have left that in France. Do you not understand? Just at present we are travelling companions, and I look to you and to your great learning for assistance, just as I received it in the forest that night; and then it was timely indeed.”

“You are too indulgent, my lord, to any poor attainments that your servant may possess. Such as they are, they will always be at my lord’s service,” replied Leoni, and he slowly resumed his seat in the high-backed chair, in obedience to a commanding gesture from the King.

Francis laughed lightly.

“The best swordsman,” he said, “in all my fair kingdom of France—cut, parry, and point; the greatest savant; and, by my sword, the best of patrists.—No, no, Leoni, old friend, I am not too indulgent,” and he gave his follower a keen glance. “But as to the route; is it good to start to-morrow?”

Leoni bowed.

“Yes, sir, it is good,” he said, and he blew some few grains of sand off the paper at which he had been engaged.

“Ah!” said the King. “’Tis well.”

“And then, sir—”

“Then—I do not understand.”

Leoni leaned forward, and with his elbows on the table joined the tips of his fingers, and then clasped his hands and, with the weird strange look in his eyes, said:

“What does my lord propose to do?”

“To do? Why, to go to the Court of our quick-tempered brother Henry at this palace of his at Windsor.”

“Ah!” said Leoni.

“You are doubtful?”

“I think, sir, that there may be difficulties in the way.” And the speaker glanced at the document before him.

“Difficulties for me! You are mad.”

“No, sir, only cautious. When you are in France, at Fontainebleau, at Compiegne, in Paris, no matter where, does his Majesty the King receive any errant English nobleman who may be abroad to study the world? I think not. Your minister would inquire into the traveller’s papers, and ask whence he came, and why.”

The King turned thoughtful in a moment, and the haughty look died away on his lips.

“By Saint Louis, I never thought of that! Leoni, you are wiser than I.”

Leoni gazed intently at the King, who winced; and Francis ended by putting his hand before his own eyes, as if the peculiar fixed stare annoyed him.

“I was arguing by analogy, sir. Is it likely that this English monarch will act differently from the first King in Christendom? I think not. Henry apes your Majesty. It is you, Sire, who lead, and whom other kings follow. Go in your proper person, and there is not a door in all this land, or in any other, which can be thrown open wide enough to admit you; but—”

“Leoni,” interrupted the King, “what are you writing?”

“A suggestion, sir, to offer you.”

The King crossed the chamber, and, leaning over Leoni’s shoulder, read out the words:

“To our well-beloved Cousin, Henry, King of England.

“Dear Cousin and King,—

“The bearer of this our letter, the noble Comte Reginald Herault de la Seine of Angomar and Villay, is our good friend. We ask you to receive him as such, and to permit him to see your Court, of which all the world speaks, and your kingdom of England, whose power is so beneficent and so mighty an agent of Heaven’s will on this earth.”

“Will it serve, sir?” asked Leoni.

“Of course!” cried the King; and snatching the pen from the doctor’s hand, he took the letter to the other side of the table and clumsily scribbled down a signature. “There,” he cried, tossing the letter back; “will that do?”

Leoni fixed him with his eyes and shrugged his shoulders slightly, and his peculiar cynical smile played about his lips.

“I wish, Leoni, you wouldn’t stare at me like that,” cried the King petulantly. “Yes. I know; it is bad—not like your regular writing. I don’t pass my time handling a pen.”

“I was not thinking of the writing, sir, but of the signature.”

“Oh, I see,” cried the King; “I am not used to it. I shall write it better by-and-by. Well, won’t that one do?”

“Your lordship had not thought before you put pen to paper.”

“Yes, I did; I thought that the sooner I got it over the better. Well, what do you want now?”

“I was wondering,” said Leoni, with a mocking smile, “what King Henry would think of a Comte de la Seine who writes a letter in the King’s name to introduce himself.”

“Bah!” cried the King angrily. “What an idiot! No; it was my honest nature rebelling against deceit. Here, Leoni, what’s to be done?”

“I’ll write the letter over again, sir, and you will sign it this time as the King.”

“Good!” murmured Francis.

The letter was rewritten, and the King signed.

“With this passport, sir, King Henry’s Court at Windsor will be free to you and to yours.”

“Excellent,” said the King, and he glanced at the document endorsed with the royal signature—“François, R.”—at which he smiled with self-satisfaction. “Now nothing more remains to be done.”

The King looked fixedly at his servant, and then laid his hand on the latter’s arm.

“It is good,” he said. “What you have done is well done. Leoni, with mind and sword you have served me well, and that France which we both love with loyalty and faith. And now—now that we are nearing our journey’s end, you hold it still to be the truth that Henry guards jealously in his possession this jewel, which in his hands is an agent for the downfall of France?”

“I hold it to be true, sir,” said Leoni solemnly, and he laid his hand on a little golden crucifix which lay on the table before him. “I hold it to be true, and that the old ambition which brought the English hordes to our country is kept alive by the influence of that jewel. He will serve France well who reclaims it and restores it to its rightful place—your crown, Sire.” And the speaker dropped on one knee, but the King motioned him to rise.

“Not now,” he said; “not now.” And then, as his royal master appeared to be lost in thought, Leoni went on; “Never, sir, would I have brought this matter to your notice, deeply though it concerns the welfare of France, had I not been convinced.”

“And why so?”

“Because, sir, I knew your nature—reckless, valiant, ready to risk all, ay, even your life, when the interests of your country are involved.”

“And rightly so. It is as a Valois should act, as a Valois will act to the end.”

“Yes, sir; and yet I dreaded at first to speak, for I foresaw something of what would happen, since to those who study deeply a vision of the future is vouchsafed at times, and I realised even then what might be your resolve—namely, to undertake the perilous quest yourself.”

“It was for France.”

“Yes, sir—”

And then the King, in a softened voice, said slowly:

“You blame me, Leoni?”

“It is not for such as I to blame. All that you have done, sir, is good; but there is the future. Of that we will take thought. You are in a strange land, sir, amidst people who to-morrow may be foes. You are far from the army which would follow you to death, and to meet the dangers which may come into your path there are but three swords, three loyal hearts.”

“And they will be enough,” said the King. “Leoni, old friend, you must have no fear.”

“I have none, sir.”

“Well,” said the King, “between ourselves, Leoni, I have. This thing begins to look more awkward now we are getting so near. King Henry is always very civil to me in his letters, and no doubt he will give the Comte de la Loire—”

“Seine, sir—Seine.”

“Bah! Yes, of course. I knew it was some river. I say: I mustn’t make such a mistake as that again, or he will find me out. Here, hadn’t we better change the name to something else? Seine—Seine—it’s rather a stupid name.”

“Too late, sir,” said Leoni earnestly. “You must hold to it now. But you were about to say something, my lord.”

“Yes, of course,” cried the King hastily. “Suppose Henry does find me out, and has got me there. Why, by my sword, Leoni, he’ll hold me to ransom, and instead of my getting back that one jewel he’ll make me give up my whole crown.”

“No, sir; no, sir,” cried Leoni earnestly. “Have more faith in yourself, and go forward. You cannot turn back now. You will soon get used to the part you assume, and it will be easy.”

“I don’t know so much about that,” said the King. “I am a bad actor. Why, you can’t keep it up yourself. If I hadn’t stopped you just now you’d have been down upon your knees to kiss my hand.”

“That was only my reverence and duty to my King.”

“Yes, I know,” said Francis angrily; “but just recollect that you have no king now, and let’s have no reverence, for if you get me regularly into trouble over this, good a servant as you have been to me, your friends will have to prepare your tomb, a short one too, for you will lose your head.”

“In the service of my country and my lord, sir,” said Leoni calmly. “I shall have done my duty. But we shall not fail.”

Chapter Twenty.The King’s bullies.It was towards evening that the little cavalcade came within sight of the town where was situated the famous castle which was so much to the liking of Henry; and at this point there was a separation, for young Carrbroke took leave.“We shall soon meet again,” he said to Denis, as the two lads bade each other farewell. “When does your master go to the Court?”Denis shook his head.“I do not know. Ask him.”“I dare not.”“It will be soon,” exclaimed Denis, “for I believe that my lord will not remain in England long.”The King took dinner that night at the hostelry by the side of the ferry and ford they had crossed that day, having previously despatched Denis with the letter which was to bring him face to face with the King of England, the lad shortly returning, having intrusted the missive to a captain of the Royal Guards, by whom it was to be handed to the chamberlain on duty.But the meal was not concluded when Francis was asked to receive a messenger from the castle.“Bid him enter,” said the King, and he rose and stood by the wide hearth, as the emissary of the English King entered and bowed low.“His Majesty,” he said, “wishes to welcome the noble Count de la Seine, and tells me to assure you, sir, that had he known of your coming he would gladly have provided an escort from the coast. He begs that you will honour him this evening with your presence at his Court.”“Tell his Majesty,” said Francis gravely, “that I am very sensible of his kindness, and that it is my most urgent wish to wait upon him.”The royal messenger was bowed out, and Francis turned sharply to Leoni.“Well, Leoni, we are outside the lion’s den at present. Are we to go in?—Don’t!” cried the King angrily.“My lord!”“Don’t stare at me like that. I know what you are thinking—that I am afraid.”“Heaven forbid that I should think such a thing of—”The King made a gesture, and in a hoarse whisper:“You were going to say ‘King.’ One might think from your visage that in walking into his palace I was stepping into a lion’s den.—What now, boy? What were you thinking?” he cried, turning sharply to Denis, who had been listening impatiently to his companion’s words.“Only, sir, that if it be a lion’s den the Comte de la Seine has his sword.”“To be sure,” said the King.“And three followers who carry theirs, and—”The boy stopped short, for as he uttered his boastful words he was interrupted by a hoarse, mocking laugh which came through the partly open door, rousing the boy’s ire so that he clapped his hand to his weapon, the others turning also in the direction from which the sound had come.“What!” came in a loud, bullying tone. “The room engaged? Nonsense! Who are they! What are they doing here?”“French gentlemen, Sir Robert.”“French dancing masters, I suppose, come to teach the Court lads minuets; and are they to keep English gentlemen waiting outside because, forsooth, they have engaged the public room? Come in, boys. Here, landlord; a stoup of wine. I’m thirsty. Frenchmen! Why, we can make them dance!”There was a thump struck upon the panel of the door, which flew open, and a big, soldierly-looking man in horseman’s boots covered with dust swaggered in, followed by a couple more, who looked, like their leader, hot and dusty, and, judging by their accoutrements, appeared to have just dismounted.Francis started and frowned as he met the English officer’s insulting gaze—insulting, for the stranger gave a contemptuous look around at the assembled party, swaggered forward, unbuckling his belt and throwing it and his sword upon the table with a bang, before dragging forward a chair over the polished floor, raising it a little, and then bringing it heavily down, to throw himself into its seat and then cry:“Come, boys; the chairs are not all occupied. How long is that fellow going to be with the wine?”Francis turned pale; Leoni bit his lip, drew closer to him, and whispered softly:“Pay no heed, M. le Comte;” while Denis and Saint Simon, after gazing fiercely at the new-comers, turned to look at the King as if to signify their readiness, and mutely ask his consent to drive these intruders from the room.The result of this was that the painful silence was broken by the officer addressed as Sir Robert bursting into another loud insulting laugh. He looked at first one and then at the other of his companions, before doubling his great gloved fist and beginning to make his sword dance upon the table by thumping hard and shouting loudly:“Now, landlord! Wine—wine—wine!”“Pay no heed, sir,” said Leoni softly. “They are trying to provoke a quarrel, and you cannot stoop.”“What’s that, Frenchman? Can’t you speak English? None of your miserable monsieuring here! Do you know where you are? In the shadow of the Court of the great King Hal. Here, youngster, what are you doing with that hilt? It isn’t a fiddlestick. I didn’t know dancing masters carried swords.—Ah, here’s the wine. Pour out landlord; and here,” he continued, as the host nervously filled the cups he had brought. “Bah! Fool! Into the cups, not all over the table. Your wine is always bad, but sack is too good to polish English oak. Now, boys, here’s to—Stop! Let’s make this French springald drink King Harry’s health. There, boy. Take up that cup.”Leoni stretched out his hand to catch Denis by the arm, but he was too late, for, with his eyes flashing, the boy stepped quickly forward to the table, caught up the cup, and raised it towards his lips.“Montjoie Saint Denis! God save the King of France!” he cried, and was about to drain the cup, while Leoni uttered an impatient hiss, when the vessel was brutally struck from his hand by the English officer, the wine being scattered about the room, and bringing the King to his feet.“Insolent!” cried Sir Robert, with his face now crimson, as he too sprang to his feet, and catching up another of the filled cups. “But he shall drink it, boys, or I’ll slit his miserable ears. Do you understand plain English, you minuet-dancing puppy?”“Yes,” panted Denis, between his teeth, and never taking his eyes from the Englishman; “every word.”“Ah! That’s good. Then take this cup, and down upon your knees and drink King Harry’s health, or ’fore Heaven you shall go back to your miserable country marked by an English blade.”There was a momentary pause in the room, every eye being centred upon the boy, fascinated as all were and self-forgetful, as they watched for the outcome of the incident.They were not kept waiting long, for the fierce look upon the boy’s countenance gave place to a pleasant smile which the Englishman did not read as meant mockingly. He stretched out and took the cup, and the bully returned the smile as he gave his companions a quick nod of the head.“You see, boys,” he cried, in his loud bullying voice, “this is the way to teach French monkeys! Now, my mincing young skipjack, God save King Harry!—Malediction!” he roared, as he snatched up his sword, for with a quick motion the boy had emptied the wine-cup full in his face.

It was towards evening that the little cavalcade came within sight of the town where was situated the famous castle which was so much to the liking of Henry; and at this point there was a separation, for young Carrbroke took leave.

“We shall soon meet again,” he said to Denis, as the two lads bade each other farewell. “When does your master go to the Court?”

Denis shook his head.

“I do not know. Ask him.”

“I dare not.”

“It will be soon,” exclaimed Denis, “for I believe that my lord will not remain in England long.”

The King took dinner that night at the hostelry by the side of the ferry and ford they had crossed that day, having previously despatched Denis with the letter which was to bring him face to face with the King of England, the lad shortly returning, having intrusted the missive to a captain of the Royal Guards, by whom it was to be handed to the chamberlain on duty.

But the meal was not concluded when Francis was asked to receive a messenger from the castle.

“Bid him enter,” said the King, and he rose and stood by the wide hearth, as the emissary of the English King entered and bowed low.

“His Majesty,” he said, “wishes to welcome the noble Count de la Seine, and tells me to assure you, sir, that had he known of your coming he would gladly have provided an escort from the coast. He begs that you will honour him this evening with your presence at his Court.”

“Tell his Majesty,” said Francis gravely, “that I am very sensible of his kindness, and that it is my most urgent wish to wait upon him.”

The royal messenger was bowed out, and Francis turned sharply to Leoni.

“Well, Leoni, we are outside the lion’s den at present. Are we to go in?—Don’t!” cried the King angrily.

“My lord!”

“Don’t stare at me like that. I know what you are thinking—that I am afraid.”

“Heaven forbid that I should think such a thing of—”

The King made a gesture, and in a hoarse whisper:

“You were going to say ‘King.’ One might think from your visage that in walking into his palace I was stepping into a lion’s den.—What now, boy? What were you thinking?” he cried, turning sharply to Denis, who had been listening impatiently to his companion’s words.

“Only, sir, that if it be a lion’s den the Comte de la Seine has his sword.”

“To be sure,” said the King.

“And three followers who carry theirs, and—”

The boy stopped short, for as he uttered his boastful words he was interrupted by a hoarse, mocking laugh which came through the partly open door, rousing the boy’s ire so that he clapped his hand to his weapon, the others turning also in the direction from which the sound had come.

“What!” came in a loud, bullying tone. “The room engaged? Nonsense! Who are they! What are they doing here?”

“French gentlemen, Sir Robert.”

“French dancing masters, I suppose, come to teach the Court lads minuets; and are they to keep English gentlemen waiting outside because, forsooth, they have engaged the public room? Come in, boys. Here, landlord; a stoup of wine. I’m thirsty. Frenchmen! Why, we can make them dance!”

There was a thump struck upon the panel of the door, which flew open, and a big, soldierly-looking man in horseman’s boots covered with dust swaggered in, followed by a couple more, who looked, like their leader, hot and dusty, and, judging by their accoutrements, appeared to have just dismounted.

Francis started and frowned as he met the English officer’s insulting gaze—insulting, for the stranger gave a contemptuous look around at the assembled party, swaggered forward, unbuckling his belt and throwing it and his sword upon the table with a bang, before dragging forward a chair over the polished floor, raising it a little, and then bringing it heavily down, to throw himself into its seat and then cry:

“Come, boys; the chairs are not all occupied. How long is that fellow going to be with the wine?”

Francis turned pale; Leoni bit his lip, drew closer to him, and whispered softly:

“Pay no heed, M. le Comte;” while Denis and Saint Simon, after gazing fiercely at the new-comers, turned to look at the King as if to signify their readiness, and mutely ask his consent to drive these intruders from the room.

The result of this was that the painful silence was broken by the officer addressed as Sir Robert bursting into another loud insulting laugh. He looked at first one and then at the other of his companions, before doubling his great gloved fist and beginning to make his sword dance upon the table by thumping hard and shouting loudly:

“Now, landlord! Wine—wine—wine!”

“Pay no heed, sir,” said Leoni softly. “They are trying to provoke a quarrel, and you cannot stoop.”

“What’s that, Frenchman? Can’t you speak English? None of your miserable monsieuring here! Do you know where you are? In the shadow of the Court of the great King Hal. Here, youngster, what are you doing with that hilt? It isn’t a fiddlestick. I didn’t know dancing masters carried swords.—Ah, here’s the wine. Pour out landlord; and here,” he continued, as the host nervously filled the cups he had brought. “Bah! Fool! Into the cups, not all over the table. Your wine is always bad, but sack is too good to polish English oak. Now, boys, here’s to—Stop! Let’s make this French springald drink King Harry’s health. There, boy. Take up that cup.”

Leoni stretched out his hand to catch Denis by the arm, but he was too late, for, with his eyes flashing, the boy stepped quickly forward to the table, caught up the cup, and raised it towards his lips.

“Montjoie Saint Denis! God save the King of France!” he cried, and was about to drain the cup, while Leoni uttered an impatient hiss, when the vessel was brutally struck from his hand by the English officer, the wine being scattered about the room, and bringing the King to his feet.

“Insolent!” cried Sir Robert, with his face now crimson, as he too sprang to his feet, and catching up another of the filled cups. “But he shall drink it, boys, or I’ll slit his miserable ears. Do you understand plain English, you minuet-dancing puppy?”

“Yes,” panted Denis, between his teeth, and never taking his eyes from the Englishman; “every word.”

“Ah! That’s good. Then take this cup, and down upon your knees and drink King Harry’s health, or ’fore Heaven you shall go back to your miserable country marked by an English blade.”

There was a momentary pause in the room, every eye being centred upon the boy, fascinated as all were and self-forgetful, as they watched for the outcome of the incident.

They were not kept waiting long, for the fierce look upon the boy’s countenance gave place to a pleasant smile which the Englishman did not read as meant mockingly. He stretched out and took the cup, and the bully returned the smile as he gave his companions a quick nod of the head.

“You see, boys,” he cried, in his loud bullying voice, “this is the way to teach French monkeys! Now, my mincing young skipjack, God save King Harry!—Malediction!” he roared, as he snatched up his sword, for with a quick motion the boy had emptied the wine-cup full in his face.

Chapter Twenty One.Trapped.At the English captain’s action his two companions sprang from their chairs and drew their weapons, for Denis had stepped back with his own blade leaping from its scabbard—a movement followed at once by his three companions, who stood on their defence.“Now, boys,” raged out Sir Robert. “Hah! The window is open. Ready?”“Yes,” came fiercely.“No deep wounds; but prick and make them dance till they reach the window and leap out. I’ll tackle this boy.”The next moment there was the harsh, grating, rasping, hissing sound of steel edge against steel.“Back, boy!” raged out Francis. “Let me punish this Englishcanaille.”“No, sir,” whispered Leoni sharply. “They are three. Let your servants finish this.”“Here’s for you!” shouted one of Sir Robert’s companions, and they made for the King and his two followers; but they were hindered from crossing swords by Sir Robert, who, stepping back to avoid a sharp thrust delivered by Denis, felt his foot slip upon the wine-moistened polished oaken boards, and in saving himself he came in contact with the table, driving it heavily in his comrades’ way, so that the two parties were separated, the centre of the room being taken up by Denis and his adversary.“The unlucky boy!” muttered the King angrily. “Leoni, he is no match for that English bull.”“No, sir,” said the doctor coolly, as he stood watchful with his blade advanced; “but he can fence a little. Give me place, and I’ll see that he does not come to harm.”Seeing that their adversaries were disposed to hold their hands until the couple engaged had finished their encounter, Sir Robert’s two companions stood waiting for their turn till the unequal match was finished; for unequal it was, Denis being pressed hard in the fierce onslaught made by the strong-armed bully, who kept on thrusting and driving the boy sideways as, lithe and agile, he avoided or parried every thrust. At last his fate seemed sealed, for his arm was growing weak and his defence being beaten down, when with a quick movement and just in the nick of time Leoni made a sudden dart forward and turned aside a very awkward thrust.“Ah! Coward!” roared the English officer. “Two to one! Here, boys, come on!”The command was unnecessary, for Leoni’s action was imitated at once by Sir Robert’s followers, who sprang forward, to have their blades engaged at once by Saint Simon and the King.Then in a generalmêléethe swords gritted and twined and seemed like flashing serpents in deadly fray, while those who grasped them came in contact with and were hindered by the furniture of the by no means extensive room.The floor was made slippery by the wine which bedewed the boards, but before the encounter had lasted a minute there were other drops which added to the peril; for Denis’s thin blade had passed along the fleshiest part of the English captain’s ribs, and raging now with passion and pain as he felt the sting, he fought furiously, forcing Leoni to do more than guard the boy, whose strength was utterly failing; and interposing now, he literally took the Englishman’s blade to his own, beat upon it heavily, and the next moment sent it flying through the open window, out of which he was to have been made to jump.Uttering a yell of fury, Sir Robert snatched the dagger from his waist, and regardless of the danger, sprang with a yell at Denis, when the door was suddenly flung open and an officer of halberdiers stepped in, backed up by about a dozen followers, whose approach had been unheard, while about a score more could be seen forming up through the window, their great steal spears with their battle-axe blades glittering in the ruddy evening sun.As if moved by one impulse, everyone within the room lowered his blade, while the King, taking in his position at a glance, and placing his own interpretation thereon, ejaculated angrily the one word:“Trapped!”

At the English captain’s action his two companions sprang from their chairs and drew their weapons, for Denis had stepped back with his own blade leaping from its scabbard—a movement followed at once by his three companions, who stood on their defence.

“Now, boys,” raged out Sir Robert. “Hah! The window is open. Ready?”

“Yes,” came fiercely.

“No deep wounds; but prick and make them dance till they reach the window and leap out. I’ll tackle this boy.”

The next moment there was the harsh, grating, rasping, hissing sound of steel edge against steel.

“Back, boy!” raged out Francis. “Let me punish this Englishcanaille.”

“No, sir,” whispered Leoni sharply. “They are three. Let your servants finish this.”

“Here’s for you!” shouted one of Sir Robert’s companions, and they made for the King and his two followers; but they were hindered from crossing swords by Sir Robert, who, stepping back to avoid a sharp thrust delivered by Denis, felt his foot slip upon the wine-moistened polished oaken boards, and in saving himself he came in contact with the table, driving it heavily in his comrades’ way, so that the two parties were separated, the centre of the room being taken up by Denis and his adversary.

“The unlucky boy!” muttered the King angrily. “Leoni, he is no match for that English bull.”

“No, sir,” said the doctor coolly, as he stood watchful with his blade advanced; “but he can fence a little. Give me place, and I’ll see that he does not come to harm.”

Seeing that their adversaries were disposed to hold their hands until the couple engaged had finished their encounter, Sir Robert’s two companions stood waiting for their turn till the unequal match was finished; for unequal it was, Denis being pressed hard in the fierce onslaught made by the strong-armed bully, who kept on thrusting and driving the boy sideways as, lithe and agile, he avoided or parried every thrust. At last his fate seemed sealed, for his arm was growing weak and his defence being beaten down, when with a quick movement and just in the nick of time Leoni made a sudden dart forward and turned aside a very awkward thrust.

“Ah! Coward!” roared the English officer. “Two to one! Here, boys, come on!”

The command was unnecessary, for Leoni’s action was imitated at once by Sir Robert’s followers, who sprang forward, to have their blades engaged at once by Saint Simon and the King.

Then in a generalmêléethe swords gritted and twined and seemed like flashing serpents in deadly fray, while those who grasped them came in contact with and were hindered by the furniture of the by no means extensive room.

The floor was made slippery by the wine which bedewed the boards, but before the encounter had lasted a minute there were other drops which added to the peril; for Denis’s thin blade had passed along the fleshiest part of the English captain’s ribs, and raging now with passion and pain as he felt the sting, he fought furiously, forcing Leoni to do more than guard the boy, whose strength was utterly failing; and interposing now, he literally took the Englishman’s blade to his own, beat upon it heavily, and the next moment sent it flying through the open window, out of which he was to have been made to jump.

Uttering a yell of fury, Sir Robert snatched the dagger from his waist, and regardless of the danger, sprang with a yell at Denis, when the door was suddenly flung open and an officer of halberdiers stepped in, backed up by about a dozen followers, whose approach had been unheard, while about a score more could be seen forming up through the window, their great steal spears with their battle-axe blades glittering in the ruddy evening sun.

As if moved by one impulse, everyone within the room lowered his blade, while the King, taking in his position at a glance, and placing his own interpretation thereon, ejaculated angrily the one word:

“Trapped!”

Chapter Twenty Two.What Denis thought.“Sir Robert! Gentlemen!” cried the officer in command of the halberdiers. “What does this mean?”“Can’t you see?” growled Sir Robert angrily. “Fighting. Chastising a pack of insolent musicians, dancing masters, or whatever they are, who insulted us.”“It is not true!” cried Denis angrily; and as he spoke Carrbroke, who had received warning from one of the inn servants of the fight that was going on, shouldered his way in through the halberdiers. “These men, whoever they are—they cannot be gentlemen—”“What!” roared Sir Robert.”—insulted my master and these members of his suite,” continued Denis, gazing defiantly at the English captain. “We were standing on our defence.”“The boy lies,” cried Sir Robert.“No: Sir Robert lies,” cried Carrbroke hotly. “Captain Bowman, these gentlemen were my father’s guests last night—yes, Sir Robert, my father’s guests, and you must have insulted them, or they would not have drawn.”“This is insufferable,” cried Sir Robert.“Yes,” said the captain of the escort coldly; “quite; and I am afraid, Sir Robert, that when his Majesty hears of the treatment which his guests, whom I have been ordered to escort into the palace, have received, I shall have another duty to perform.”“What do you mean?” cried Sir Robert insolently.“Your arrest, sir, and that of your friends. I am afraid his Majesty is getting tired of your brawling and overbearing ways.”“What!” cried Sir Robert fiercely, as he clapped his hand again to the dagger he had sheathed.“I see you have lost your sword,” said the officer contemptuously, “and spared me the trouble of disarming you for drawing within the precincts of the Court. Take my advice, sir—not that of a friend, but of one who has his duty to do towards keeping order here. Take your friends away and consult with them as to what steps you should take before his Majesty hears of this outrage. Monsieur le Comte,” he continued, turning to Francis, “in his Majesty’s name, let me apologise for what must have been a grievous mistake on the part of one of the King’s officers. I am commanded to escort you and your followers into the palace, where his Majesty will receive you at once.”Francis bowed, and the halberdiers formed up ready for the visitors to pass between their ranks, while Leoni, who looked calm and saturnine as ever, bent forward and whispered a word or two to the King.“My faith, yes!” he cried, and he turned to the Captain of the Guard. “But, as you see, we are travel-stained and hot with this encounter; we ought to have some minutes to prepare.”“His Majesty knows that you have been travelling, sir, and will not notice that you have been making some passes in your defence. My master, sir, is impatient, and as he expects you, if I might advise I would say, let me lead you there at once.”The King bowed and stepped forward directly, closely followed by his suite, and passed out to the front of the hostelry, where a little crowd had gathered, attracted by the exciting incident that had taken place.The next minute, with about a dozen of the halberdiers to clear the way, the rest behind, the order was loudly given, and the little procession moved towards the great gate of the castle on the hill, the Captain of the Guard marching with drawn sword respectfully by the travellers’ side.Rather breathless still, the King remained silent, while Denis could not refrain from glancing back, to see his late adversary standing at the inn-door in the act of taking a wine-cup from the hands of the host.The next moment the figures of the halberdiers shut him from sight, while the boy heard his royal master’s next words, uttered in a low tone to Leoni.“It’s wonderfully like being prisoners, doctor,” he whispered; “and mind this, if we do not get free again you’ll have to pay the forfeit. Ah, there you are, my young esquire! I’d half forgotten you. Well and bravely fought. Yesterday, as it were, I looked upon you as a page; you are now my esquire indeed. By my sword, the fighting we have had already on this English soil has made quite a fire-eater of you. Why, Leoni, I feel as ready as can be now to enter into the lion’s den. Not get out again! Tchah! With followers like these, who’s going to stand against us?Vive la France!”“Vive la France, Monsieur le Comte,” said Leoni, in a low meaning tone. “If I might say so, I should think his Majesty King Francis would feel proud of the bearer of his letter, if he could know how bravely one of his nobles kept up the credit of his court of braves.”“I hope he would, Leoni,” said the King, laughing to himself, and he looked sharply upward as the halberdiers’ footsteps echoed from the grey stone walls of the arched entrance to the courtyard. “A noble-looking castle. May I ask, monsieur the captain, what building that is to our left—the chapel of the palace?”“Yes, sir, and the great hall,” replied the Captain of the Guard.Then uttering a sharp order, the advance-guard bore off to the left.“His Majesty awaits you, sir, in the ante-chamber. We turn in here for your reception in the hall.”“Hah!” said Francis, and he looked at Denis as he spoke. “Well, boy,” he said, in a low tone, “are you wondering what Henry of England will think when he sees the Comte?”“No, sir,” replied the boy sharply.“What then?”“Will the Comte excuse me saying?” said the boy, turning furiously red.“No, he will not,” said the King sharply. “Out with it at once! What were you thinking?”The boy hesitated, but the King’s eyes were fixed upon him fiercely, and with a desperate effort he blurted out:“I thought you were playing a very dangerous game.”

“Sir Robert! Gentlemen!” cried the officer in command of the halberdiers. “What does this mean?”

“Can’t you see?” growled Sir Robert angrily. “Fighting. Chastising a pack of insolent musicians, dancing masters, or whatever they are, who insulted us.”

“It is not true!” cried Denis angrily; and as he spoke Carrbroke, who had received warning from one of the inn servants of the fight that was going on, shouldered his way in through the halberdiers. “These men, whoever they are—they cannot be gentlemen—”

“What!” roared Sir Robert.

”—insulted my master and these members of his suite,” continued Denis, gazing defiantly at the English captain. “We were standing on our defence.”

“The boy lies,” cried Sir Robert.

“No: Sir Robert lies,” cried Carrbroke hotly. “Captain Bowman, these gentlemen were my father’s guests last night—yes, Sir Robert, my father’s guests, and you must have insulted them, or they would not have drawn.”

“This is insufferable,” cried Sir Robert.

“Yes,” said the captain of the escort coldly; “quite; and I am afraid, Sir Robert, that when his Majesty hears of the treatment which his guests, whom I have been ordered to escort into the palace, have received, I shall have another duty to perform.”

“What do you mean?” cried Sir Robert insolently.

“Your arrest, sir, and that of your friends. I am afraid his Majesty is getting tired of your brawling and overbearing ways.”

“What!” cried Sir Robert fiercely, as he clapped his hand again to the dagger he had sheathed.

“I see you have lost your sword,” said the officer contemptuously, “and spared me the trouble of disarming you for drawing within the precincts of the Court. Take my advice, sir—not that of a friend, but of one who has his duty to do towards keeping order here. Take your friends away and consult with them as to what steps you should take before his Majesty hears of this outrage. Monsieur le Comte,” he continued, turning to Francis, “in his Majesty’s name, let me apologise for what must have been a grievous mistake on the part of one of the King’s officers. I am commanded to escort you and your followers into the palace, where his Majesty will receive you at once.”

Francis bowed, and the halberdiers formed up ready for the visitors to pass between their ranks, while Leoni, who looked calm and saturnine as ever, bent forward and whispered a word or two to the King.

“My faith, yes!” he cried, and he turned to the Captain of the Guard. “But, as you see, we are travel-stained and hot with this encounter; we ought to have some minutes to prepare.”

“His Majesty knows that you have been travelling, sir, and will not notice that you have been making some passes in your defence. My master, sir, is impatient, and as he expects you, if I might advise I would say, let me lead you there at once.”

The King bowed and stepped forward directly, closely followed by his suite, and passed out to the front of the hostelry, where a little crowd had gathered, attracted by the exciting incident that had taken place.

The next minute, with about a dozen of the halberdiers to clear the way, the rest behind, the order was loudly given, and the little procession moved towards the great gate of the castle on the hill, the Captain of the Guard marching with drawn sword respectfully by the travellers’ side.

Rather breathless still, the King remained silent, while Denis could not refrain from glancing back, to see his late adversary standing at the inn-door in the act of taking a wine-cup from the hands of the host.

The next moment the figures of the halberdiers shut him from sight, while the boy heard his royal master’s next words, uttered in a low tone to Leoni.

“It’s wonderfully like being prisoners, doctor,” he whispered; “and mind this, if we do not get free again you’ll have to pay the forfeit. Ah, there you are, my young esquire! I’d half forgotten you. Well and bravely fought. Yesterday, as it were, I looked upon you as a page; you are now my esquire indeed. By my sword, the fighting we have had already on this English soil has made quite a fire-eater of you. Why, Leoni, I feel as ready as can be now to enter into the lion’s den. Not get out again! Tchah! With followers like these, who’s going to stand against us?Vive la France!”

“Vive la France, Monsieur le Comte,” said Leoni, in a low meaning tone. “If I might say so, I should think his Majesty King Francis would feel proud of the bearer of his letter, if he could know how bravely one of his nobles kept up the credit of his court of braves.”

“I hope he would, Leoni,” said the King, laughing to himself, and he looked sharply upward as the halberdiers’ footsteps echoed from the grey stone walls of the arched entrance to the courtyard. “A noble-looking castle. May I ask, monsieur the captain, what building that is to our left—the chapel of the palace?”

“Yes, sir, and the great hall,” replied the Captain of the Guard.

Then uttering a sharp order, the advance-guard bore off to the left.

“His Majesty awaits you, sir, in the ante-chamber. We turn in here for your reception in the hall.”

“Hah!” said Francis, and he looked at Denis as he spoke. “Well, boy,” he said, in a low tone, “are you wondering what Henry of England will think when he sees the Comte?”

“No, sir,” replied the boy sharply.

“What then?”

“Will the Comte excuse me saying?” said the boy, turning furiously red.

“No, he will not,” said the King sharply. “Out with it at once! What were you thinking?”

The boy hesitated, but the King’s eyes were fixed upon him fiercely, and with a desperate effort he blurted out:

“I thought you were playing a very dangerous game.”

Chapter Twenty Three.A Royal welcome.There was plenty of colour and brightness in the group awaiting the coming of Francis and his travel-stained followers. Courtiers stood around with their gay, picturesque garments rendered more striking by the sunset glow, vivified by passing through a stained-glass window which shone down upon the central figure of the group, a big, bluff, rather heavy-faced, typically English yeoman in expression, upon whom Francis fixed his eyes and kept them there as upon the principal picture, all the rest being merely frame.Irrespective of his position, the visitor would have known him at once from the descriptions he had heard from ambassadors to the English Court of what the English King was like; and forgetful of everything else, all courtly custom, his secret mission, and his assumed character, Francis made a slight obeisance and stepped forward eagerly to greet his brother King.On the other hand King Henry gazed curiously at his visitor who bore such worthy credentials, and he put out his hand as he stood drawing himself up proudly, expecting to see the Comte sink upon one knee and press it to his lips; but, to his utter astonishment, Francis came close up, apparently not in the slightest degree dazzled or abashed by his magnificence, to stop short when within easy reach, and, instead of sinking down, exclaimed, “Aha! The brave, soldierly King Hal!” clapped both hands upon his brother monarch’s shoulders, let them glide quickly onward till they joined behind the King’s neck, and the next moment the embrace tightened as he kissed the plump cheeks that were beginning to flame smartly in turn.“This,” he cried, “is a great joy that pays me for my long journey here.”The English King drew back in astonishment, and glanced quickly to right and left of his assembled courtiers, as if asking the meaning of this outrage, this strange conduct so completely in opposition to all Court etiquette.He was completely stunned for the moment, and his inclination was to exclaim, “Is this man mad?” But as he looked round it was to see face after face expanded or contracted by the mirthful feeling within his followers’ breasts, and then rendered grotesque by their owners’ efforts to turn solemn and serious once more.A change came over the King’s countenance. It was as a reflection of the smiles upon his courtiers’ lips.“He is a Frenchman,” he said to himself, “and does not understand our ways, though I should have thought—” he continued to himself, and then broke off, to follow the example set him by his visitor, and clumsily and with ill grace returned the salute, before bidding him welcome in English, which Francis understood fairly well, turning occasionally to Leoni, who stood close behind him, ready to interpret whenever his master was at fault.The interview went off very well, for Henry took at once to the bright, vivacious French monarch, finding in him one ready to talk eagerly about his pursuits, the pair being well in accord as to their tastes; and the meeting was nearly brought to an end by the King telling his visitor that the letter from his brother Francis was sufficient to make one of his favourite nobles quite welcome to the hospitality of the English Court.“Believe me, I am glad to welcome my royal brother’s favourite. A suite of apartments will be prepared for you, sir, by my people, and a place on my right hand at my table. Rest assured that your stay shall be made pleasant here.”Francis bowed and smiled, and seemed as if about to supplement his embrace; but the King went on speaking.“But what is this I hear about an insult offered to one who occupies the position of an ambassador, and whose person should be sacred? I hear, Comte, that you were attacked by one of my officers and his companions, here, close to my palace gates. Is it true?”Francis shrugged his shoulders nearly to his ears with a half contemptuous smile upon his lips.“Oh, a mere nothing,” he said; “a little sword-play.”“A mere nothing!” cried Henry fiercely. “An insult to one of my guests a mere nothing!”“Oh, don’t speak of it,” replied Francis, laughing. “I was not surprised.”“You amaze me, sir!” cried the King.“Indeed, Sire? Why, we always knew in France that there is nothing an Englishman loves better than to fight. I came to your gates unannounced, and two or three of your bluff soldiers—officers, you say—exclaimed amongst themselves, ‘What does this Frenchman here, trying to enter our master’s court?’ As your defenders, they drew, to try and drive us away. But we would not be driven. Then your gallant escort arrived. They found out the mistake, and it was all at an end. I congratulate you, my—” Francis coughed, as if to get rid of an impediment in his speech, or as if he were suffering from some forgetfulness of the English words he ought to use—“my noble English sovereign, upon having such brave defenders at your gates.”“I thank you, sir,” cried Henry. “But this is too much! These soldiery assume more than is their right. I have heard before of this man’s brawls. He is a fighter out of employment now, for we are at peace, and I will not have him insult my guests.”“But you will pardon him, Sire?” said Francis. “We were not hurt. Next time we meet, your brave officer will doubtless make amends.”“He must! He shall!” cried Henry hotly. “And—”“Sire,” interrupted Francis, smiling, “I am your visitor. Grant me the first favour that I ask.”“Anything,” cried the King, smiling in his turn.“Then you will forgive this brave man?”The King bowed.“I wish you to be perfectly welcome at my Court, Comte; and now you would like to retire to your rooms to rid yourselves of your travel-stains. Later on I look to meet you at my board.”Francis bowed in turn, and drew back, seeing that the audience was at an end, and half turning saw that Denis had approached.“Yes, boy?” he said.“The horses, Comte,” whispered Denis.“Ah, to be sure! They must not be left there.” And he turned, to catch the King’s eye fixed on him searchingly.“Yes, Comte,” he said; “you were about to speak?”“It is nothing, Sire,” replied Francis. “My esquire reminded me that our steeds were at the hostelry, and—”“Ah, you love horses!” cried the King. “So do I, and the hunt as well. My stables are at your service, and my Master of the Horse will see that they are well bestowed. Once more, sir, the favourite of my brother Francis is welcome here. I look to see you again to-night.”

There was plenty of colour and brightness in the group awaiting the coming of Francis and his travel-stained followers. Courtiers stood around with their gay, picturesque garments rendered more striking by the sunset glow, vivified by passing through a stained-glass window which shone down upon the central figure of the group, a big, bluff, rather heavy-faced, typically English yeoman in expression, upon whom Francis fixed his eyes and kept them there as upon the principal picture, all the rest being merely frame.

Irrespective of his position, the visitor would have known him at once from the descriptions he had heard from ambassadors to the English Court of what the English King was like; and forgetful of everything else, all courtly custom, his secret mission, and his assumed character, Francis made a slight obeisance and stepped forward eagerly to greet his brother King.

On the other hand King Henry gazed curiously at his visitor who bore such worthy credentials, and he put out his hand as he stood drawing himself up proudly, expecting to see the Comte sink upon one knee and press it to his lips; but, to his utter astonishment, Francis came close up, apparently not in the slightest degree dazzled or abashed by his magnificence, to stop short when within easy reach, and, instead of sinking down, exclaimed, “Aha! The brave, soldierly King Hal!” clapped both hands upon his brother monarch’s shoulders, let them glide quickly onward till they joined behind the King’s neck, and the next moment the embrace tightened as he kissed the plump cheeks that were beginning to flame smartly in turn.

“This,” he cried, “is a great joy that pays me for my long journey here.”

The English King drew back in astonishment, and glanced quickly to right and left of his assembled courtiers, as if asking the meaning of this outrage, this strange conduct so completely in opposition to all Court etiquette.

He was completely stunned for the moment, and his inclination was to exclaim, “Is this man mad?” But as he looked round it was to see face after face expanded or contracted by the mirthful feeling within his followers’ breasts, and then rendered grotesque by their owners’ efforts to turn solemn and serious once more.

A change came over the King’s countenance. It was as a reflection of the smiles upon his courtiers’ lips.

“He is a Frenchman,” he said to himself, “and does not understand our ways, though I should have thought—” he continued to himself, and then broke off, to follow the example set him by his visitor, and clumsily and with ill grace returned the salute, before bidding him welcome in English, which Francis understood fairly well, turning occasionally to Leoni, who stood close behind him, ready to interpret whenever his master was at fault.

The interview went off very well, for Henry took at once to the bright, vivacious French monarch, finding in him one ready to talk eagerly about his pursuits, the pair being well in accord as to their tastes; and the meeting was nearly brought to an end by the King telling his visitor that the letter from his brother Francis was sufficient to make one of his favourite nobles quite welcome to the hospitality of the English Court.

“Believe me, I am glad to welcome my royal brother’s favourite. A suite of apartments will be prepared for you, sir, by my people, and a place on my right hand at my table. Rest assured that your stay shall be made pleasant here.”

Francis bowed and smiled, and seemed as if about to supplement his embrace; but the King went on speaking.

“But what is this I hear about an insult offered to one who occupies the position of an ambassador, and whose person should be sacred? I hear, Comte, that you were attacked by one of my officers and his companions, here, close to my palace gates. Is it true?”

Francis shrugged his shoulders nearly to his ears with a half contemptuous smile upon his lips.

“Oh, a mere nothing,” he said; “a little sword-play.”

“A mere nothing!” cried Henry fiercely. “An insult to one of my guests a mere nothing!”

“Oh, don’t speak of it,” replied Francis, laughing. “I was not surprised.”

“You amaze me, sir!” cried the King.

“Indeed, Sire? Why, we always knew in France that there is nothing an Englishman loves better than to fight. I came to your gates unannounced, and two or three of your bluff soldiers—officers, you say—exclaimed amongst themselves, ‘What does this Frenchman here, trying to enter our master’s court?’ As your defenders, they drew, to try and drive us away. But we would not be driven. Then your gallant escort arrived. They found out the mistake, and it was all at an end. I congratulate you, my—” Francis coughed, as if to get rid of an impediment in his speech, or as if he were suffering from some forgetfulness of the English words he ought to use—“my noble English sovereign, upon having such brave defenders at your gates.”

“I thank you, sir,” cried Henry. “But this is too much! These soldiery assume more than is their right. I have heard before of this man’s brawls. He is a fighter out of employment now, for we are at peace, and I will not have him insult my guests.”

“But you will pardon him, Sire?” said Francis. “We were not hurt. Next time we meet, your brave officer will doubtless make amends.”

“He must! He shall!” cried Henry hotly. “And—”

“Sire,” interrupted Francis, smiling, “I am your visitor. Grant me the first favour that I ask.”

“Anything,” cried the King, smiling in his turn.

“Then you will forgive this brave man?”

The King bowed.

“I wish you to be perfectly welcome at my Court, Comte; and now you would like to retire to your rooms to rid yourselves of your travel-stains. Later on I look to meet you at my board.”

Francis bowed in turn, and drew back, seeing that the audience was at an end, and half turning saw that Denis had approached.

“Yes, boy?” he said.

“The horses, Comte,” whispered Denis.

“Ah, to be sure! They must not be left there.” And he turned, to catch the King’s eye fixed on him searchingly.

“Yes, Comte,” he said; “you were about to speak?”

“It is nothing, Sire,” replied Francis. “My esquire reminded me that our steeds were at the hostelry, and—”

“Ah, you love horses!” cried the King. “So do I, and the hunt as well. My stables are at your service, and my Master of the Horse will see that they are well bestowed. Once more, sir, the favourite of my brother Francis is welcome here. I look to see you again to-night.”

Chapter Twenty Four.Denis is sleepy.His Majesty of England was in high good humour that night, since the preparations for the grand reception he had ordered in honour of the ambassador-like visitor from France had been carried out quite to his satisfaction.There was show, there was music, and there was dancing going on, as he entered thesalonfrom his private rooms and looked round searchingly before turning to speak to his stately chamberlain.“Our visitor?” he said laconically.“Fatigued, perhaps, with the journey, Sire. He has not yet arrived.”The King frowned, and his chamberlain raised his eyebrows a little, half expecting to be taken to task for not having the visitor there.“See that everything is done, Hurst, so that he may go back to my brother of France full of admiration of my Court. We must make him envious,” added the King, with a laugh.At that moment there was a flourish of trumpets, and, escorted by two noblemen of the English Court, Francis, followed by his three gentleman attendants, advanced to meet the King.Leoni watched his master narrowly as he followed his progress through the brilliant throng of courtiers towards the spot where Henry stood awaiting his coming, and there was but one thought animating his brain—the thought of whether Francis with his impetuous nature would not commit some act in this strangest of all episodes—King meeting King, and one ignorant of the other’s real identity—which would enlighten Henry and maybe bring disaster on them all.“But Henry has never seen our King,” he murmured softly to himself. “Why should there be this presagement of harm? He cannot be recognised here, or if any of these gentlemen who have travelled do imagine a resemblance, they will laugh it on one side.”He felt reassured again as he saw Henry advance a step to meet his guest and take his hand with a few words of welcome, ere he pointed to a seat near at hand.“Our brother of France is indeed fortunate,” he said, “to be represented by yourself, Comte.” And then followed words which Leoni did not hear, for a gentleman approached the group formed by himself, Saint Simon, and Denis, and with a bow said courteously:“May I present you gentlemen to his Majesty?”A minute later Leoni heard Francis say:“Your Majesty will permit me to present to your notice Master René Leoni, the most learned of doctors, and at the same time one of the most tyrannical. But to those who understand well the subtle art of medicine, we must forgive all.”“True,” said Henry, and he leaned forward with a gracious inclination. “We can read in your countenance, sir, the deep learning of the south. Would to Heaven that there were more of it here! I trust that the stay you make at our Court will not be displeasing to you, for that it will be productive to us I make no doubt.”Leoni bowed low before the two Kings.“My master has exaggerated my poor abilities, your Majesty,” he said, and then he drew back to allow of the introduction of his two companions, to each of whom Henry addressed words of encouragement and welcome.Later, as the music struck up, the English King turned to his visitor and asked more questions concerning Francis.“He is at Fontainebleau?” he asked.“Not at present, Sire,” said Francis drily, and with a glance at Leoni.“Ah!” and Henry seemed to relapse into thought.“I would that he were here, Sire, in order that he might see how well you treat his envoys.”But Henry waved the compliment aside.“Tell me about France,” he said; “tell me about France.” And he looked fixedly at the messenger from the kingdom of the fleur-de-lys, while Leoni would have given anything to draw nearer, to gather up if it were only scraps of the conversation that ensued; but he was bound to imitate the action of those around and draw back, full of anxiety about his pupil, but fain to content himself with looking around at the gay throng, before sinking into a chair where he could think about his mission, his searching eyes always busy looking about, especially at the jewels that were flashing on every side, as he hungrily sought for some thread which might form a clue to lead him ultimately to the object of his quest.Meanwhile Denis and Saint Simon, looking as courtly as the most brightly dressed among whom they stood, were invited by one of the dignified functionaries to join in the dance, but declined on the score of fatigue; and the former had sauntered away from the throng, to stand near a curtained window a moment, when he heard his name spoken, and a hand was laid on his arm. He turned sharply, to find himself face to face with Carrbroke.“Found you,” he said. “Well, it did not require my services to show you the Court. What do you think of it? Better than Fontainebleau, is it not?”It was not necessary for Denis to reply, because his companion went on quickly to speak of other things.“We shall be able to see a great deal of each other, I hope,” he said.“I hope so,” responded Denis readily.“I am sure. There is a great banquet to-morrow. You will be there.”“Would they ask me?”“Why, of course; but—here, come this way,” and Carrbroke touched the other’s arm. “You are not going to dance, so let us talk—out here in the garden.”Denis accompanied his friend out on to a wide terrace where there came to the ear the sound of the music still, and where there were the thousand scents of the flowers on that soft June night.“The King sometimes walks here,” said the lad; “but he will not come to-night. I like this place. Yonder is the river. You have not a river like that?”“Oh, we have the Seine.”Carrbroke made a movement of dissent.“They laugh at me here,” he said, “because I fish. Lord Hurst would have one always wearing one’s best and acting the courtier; but the King loves sport, and so do I. Let’s go this way, and enter the palace by another door. There will be supper soon, and one must eat.”A moment before, Denis was beginning to think that the place was not so attractive after all, but the word supper seemed to accord well with his sensations.He was weary with the excitement of the day, and he suddenly felt that some of his distaste was due to hunger, which he was ready enough to appease, being well looked after by his new friend; while the rest of the evening was filled up by faintly heard sounds of music and conversation which seemed to be buzzing around him, as he sat back in one of the many chairs of the grandsalon, completely overcome by an invincible sense of drowsiness which seemed dark and cloudy, while out of it came a familiar voice, saying:“Why, Denis, boy, I have been seeking you everywhere. Saint Simon was looking for you too, and said you must have gone off to bed.”“Bed—bed?” the boy remembered saying, and then all was confused again till Master Leoni’s voice whispered in his ear:“Come, wake up.”“Where’s Carrbroke?” he said drowsily.“Gone away in attendance on the King, who will soon be leaving thesalon. Come, we must be in attendance too.”The next thing that occurred was the sudden starting up of the boy in his bed, with the bright morning sun shining in through the window.“Where am I?” he muttered. “How did I come here?” And then by degrees he began to have some faint recollection of Leoni helping him to his room.“Why, I must have disgraced myself in some way,” he muttered. “What could I have done? Gone to sleep in the middle of thatfête? I don’t know; everything seems a blank.”

His Majesty of England was in high good humour that night, since the preparations for the grand reception he had ordered in honour of the ambassador-like visitor from France had been carried out quite to his satisfaction.

There was show, there was music, and there was dancing going on, as he entered thesalonfrom his private rooms and looked round searchingly before turning to speak to his stately chamberlain.

“Our visitor?” he said laconically.

“Fatigued, perhaps, with the journey, Sire. He has not yet arrived.”

The King frowned, and his chamberlain raised his eyebrows a little, half expecting to be taken to task for not having the visitor there.

“See that everything is done, Hurst, so that he may go back to my brother of France full of admiration of my Court. We must make him envious,” added the King, with a laugh.

At that moment there was a flourish of trumpets, and, escorted by two noblemen of the English Court, Francis, followed by his three gentleman attendants, advanced to meet the King.

Leoni watched his master narrowly as he followed his progress through the brilliant throng of courtiers towards the spot where Henry stood awaiting his coming, and there was but one thought animating his brain—the thought of whether Francis with his impetuous nature would not commit some act in this strangest of all episodes—King meeting King, and one ignorant of the other’s real identity—which would enlighten Henry and maybe bring disaster on them all.

“But Henry has never seen our King,” he murmured softly to himself. “Why should there be this presagement of harm? He cannot be recognised here, or if any of these gentlemen who have travelled do imagine a resemblance, they will laugh it on one side.”

He felt reassured again as he saw Henry advance a step to meet his guest and take his hand with a few words of welcome, ere he pointed to a seat near at hand.

“Our brother of France is indeed fortunate,” he said, “to be represented by yourself, Comte.” And then followed words which Leoni did not hear, for a gentleman approached the group formed by himself, Saint Simon, and Denis, and with a bow said courteously:

“May I present you gentlemen to his Majesty?”

A minute later Leoni heard Francis say:

“Your Majesty will permit me to present to your notice Master René Leoni, the most learned of doctors, and at the same time one of the most tyrannical. But to those who understand well the subtle art of medicine, we must forgive all.”

“True,” said Henry, and he leaned forward with a gracious inclination. “We can read in your countenance, sir, the deep learning of the south. Would to Heaven that there were more of it here! I trust that the stay you make at our Court will not be displeasing to you, for that it will be productive to us I make no doubt.”

Leoni bowed low before the two Kings.

“My master has exaggerated my poor abilities, your Majesty,” he said, and then he drew back to allow of the introduction of his two companions, to each of whom Henry addressed words of encouragement and welcome.

Later, as the music struck up, the English King turned to his visitor and asked more questions concerning Francis.

“He is at Fontainebleau?” he asked.

“Not at present, Sire,” said Francis drily, and with a glance at Leoni.

“Ah!” and Henry seemed to relapse into thought.

“I would that he were here, Sire, in order that he might see how well you treat his envoys.”

But Henry waved the compliment aside.

“Tell me about France,” he said; “tell me about France.” And he looked fixedly at the messenger from the kingdom of the fleur-de-lys, while Leoni would have given anything to draw nearer, to gather up if it were only scraps of the conversation that ensued; but he was bound to imitate the action of those around and draw back, full of anxiety about his pupil, but fain to content himself with looking around at the gay throng, before sinking into a chair where he could think about his mission, his searching eyes always busy looking about, especially at the jewels that were flashing on every side, as he hungrily sought for some thread which might form a clue to lead him ultimately to the object of his quest.

Meanwhile Denis and Saint Simon, looking as courtly as the most brightly dressed among whom they stood, were invited by one of the dignified functionaries to join in the dance, but declined on the score of fatigue; and the former had sauntered away from the throng, to stand near a curtained window a moment, when he heard his name spoken, and a hand was laid on his arm. He turned sharply, to find himself face to face with Carrbroke.

“Found you,” he said. “Well, it did not require my services to show you the Court. What do you think of it? Better than Fontainebleau, is it not?”

It was not necessary for Denis to reply, because his companion went on quickly to speak of other things.

“We shall be able to see a great deal of each other, I hope,” he said.

“I hope so,” responded Denis readily.

“I am sure. There is a great banquet to-morrow. You will be there.”

“Would they ask me?”

“Why, of course; but—here, come this way,” and Carrbroke touched the other’s arm. “You are not going to dance, so let us talk—out here in the garden.”

Denis accompanied his friend out on to a wide terrace where there came to the ear the sound of the music still, and where there were the thousand scents of the flowers on that soft June night.

“The King sometimes walks here,” said the lad; “but he will not come to-night. I like this place. Yonder is the river. You have not a river like that?”

“Oh, we have the Seine.”

Carrbroke made a movement of dissent.

“They laugh at me here,” he said, “because I fish. Lord Hurst would have one always wearing one’s best and acting the courtier; but the King loves sport, and so do I. Let’s go this way, and enter the palace by another door. There will be supper soon, and one must eat.”

A moment before, Denis was beginning to think that the place was not so attractive after all, but the word supper seemed to accord well with his sensations.

He was weary with the excitement of the day, and he suddenly felt that some of his distaste was due to hunger, which he was ready enough to appease, being well looked after by his new friend; while the rest of the evening was filled up by faintly heard sounds of music and conversation which seemed to be buzzing around him, as he sat back in one of the many chairs of the grandsalon, completely overcome by an invincible sense of drowsiness which seemed dark and cloudy, while out of it came a familiar voice, saying:

“Why, Denis, boy, I have been seeking you everywhere. Saint Simon was looking for you too, and said you must have gone off to bed.”

“Bed—bed?” the boy remembered saying, and then all was confused again till Master Leoni’s voice whispered in his ear:

“Come, wake up.”

“Where’s Carrbroke?” he said drowsily.

“Gone away in attendance on the King, who will soon be leaving thesalon. Come, we must be in attendance too.”

The next thing that occurred was the sudden starting up of the boy in his bed, with the bright morning sun shining in through the window.

“Where am I?” he muttered. “How did I come here?” And then by degrees he began to have some faint recollection of Leoni helping him to his room.

“Why, I must have disgraced myself in some way,” he muttered. “What could I have done? Gone to sleep in the middle of thatfête? I don’t know; everything seems a blank.”

Chapter Twenty Five.Carrbroke tells secrets.The days passed quickly, with the Kings the best of friends, for Francis proved himself a boon companion, a good horseman, and quite after the King’s own heart.He made himself a favourite too, and the most courtly at the Court, ready if he had been present to have brought a sneering smile to the lips of Sir Robert Garstang, who, when the minstrels were busy in their gallery, might have seen some justification of the bullying captain’s sneer respecting dancing masters, for Francis was ever ready and eager to lead some Court lady through the mazes of the dance.For revels were plentiful at Windsor then, and Denis in the companionship of Carrbroke found the time pass pleasantly enough, on the terraces, in the park, and along the banks of the silver Thames; but he was quite forgetful for the most part of the special mission upon which he had crossed the sea.For Ned Carrbroke had always something fresh to propose in the way of horsemanship, and often enough invited his French companion to sword-play, which was readily accepted; and to Carrbroke’s wonder and delight Leoni would come to look on, and at Denis’s request advise them upon questions dealing with offence and defence, and proper conduct of the rapier both in French and Italian schools.“Why, he’s splendid,” cried Carrbroke one day, “only I don’t like him. He puts me out of heart. I used to think that I was a good fencer, but when I cross swords with him I feel quite a baby. You are lucky to have some one like that to give you lessons. Why, you must be splendid yourself.”Denis laughed merrily.“Why,” he said, “I always feel worse than you. Master Leoni, when I fence with him and he gives me a lesson, makes me feel as if there were magic in his blade which sends a strange aching pain all up the muscles of my arm.”“Yes,” cried Carrbroke, “that’s something like what I feel. I say, he’s your friend, isn’t he?”“Well, hardly a friend. I feel more afraid of him than anything.”“Yes,” said Carrbroke eagerly, “that’s how I feel—well, not afraid,” he continued hastily, and flushing up; “but you won’t mind my speaking out? You and I seem to have so taken to one another.”“Well, yes,” said Denis, “we do seem to like one another a bit.”“Then you won’t mind my speaking out quite plainly?” continued Carrbroke.“Not I. What is it?”“Only this. Do you think that there is something queer in his blade?”“Only that it is best Italian steel.”“Yes, of course,” said Carrbroke impatiently. “But I mean what they call magic—that there is something curious in it? You see, it turns so, and seems so strong.”“Yes, that is strange,” said Denis. “It is no matter how you parry; the point always seems as if it could enter your breast if it liked. I always feel that Master Leoni could kill anyone just as he pleased.”“Of course you believe in magic?” said Carrbroke.“I don’t know. I suppose I do,” replied Denis.“I do,” said Carrbroke; “and your friend seems so different from other men. Look at his eye.”“Oh, I never do if I can help it,” said Denis. “You’ve noticed it, then?”“Noticed it?” cried Carrbroke. “Who could help it? When he fixes it on me, as he always does, it makes me shiver; although he is always very kind, there is something about him I can’t understand, and if he were my enemy I should be ready to give everything up and go away. There, what a bad job! I was just going to say, let’s go for a long ride, or else make some of the King’s rowers take us up the river, and then float down, and it’s going to rain, and I don’t want to get wet. It spoils one’s doublet so. Here, I know; I’ll take you all through the castle, if I can, into all the King’s private rooms. They’ll be with the ladies at this time of day. I can show you everything that there is to see.”“Can you?” said Denis, whose thoughts suddenly turned to his mission there.“Oh yes; I am allowed to go where I like, as the King’s youngest esquire.” And then half pettishly: “They consider me only a boy. But come along.”Carrbroke was quite right, for the rain began streaming down; and a few minutes afterwards the two lads were in the royal apartments, which were quite deserted, and Carrbroke was proudly showing the different pictures, King Henry’s armour, and choice collections of weapons of war. At last he stopped in front of a beautiful Italian cabinet which differed from ordinary pieces of furniture, being made to stand four-square in the centre of the apartment, each side being richly ornamented with carving and delicate inlaid work which covered the doors and drawers.“I wish I had the keys of that,” said Carrbroke.“Why? What’s inside?”“I hardly know; but my father told me once to take notice of it, for he believed that it was full of gems and curious jewels that had been presented to the King. I never saw it open yet, but there must be many curiosities there, swords and petronels, as well as jewels.”“Indeed!” said Denis, colouring slightly.“Oh yes; some of those curious gems that they say have magic properties—charms, don’t they call them? Magic crystals that confer singular powers upon those who own them, bring good luck, and influence the fate of people. I say, do you believe in such things as that?”“Ye–es, I think I do,” said Denis, and the colour on his cheeks grew a little deeper, and then deeper still, and he winced a little as if he felt that Carrbroke’s searching eyes were reading his inmost thoughts; and then he started and felt worse, for it seemed to him that his companion suspected his reasons for being there, so that he was ready to utter a sigh of relief when Carrbroke said:“Well, you needn’t look like that. You needn’t be ashamed to believe in such things. I do, for there’s a lot one doesn’t understand. I was told once that different precious stones have very curious qualities; some will protect anyone from magic, some from enemies. There was a ring I once heard of which if a person wore would guard him from poison. It was an Italian ring, I suppose, for I believe that they try to poison people there.”“Yes, I have heard so,” said Denis drily, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon the cabinet, wondering whether the treasure Leoni sought could be there. “But it seems nonsense. I don’t see how a diamond or a ruby could do such things.”“No,” said Carrbroke; “no more do I, unless you swallowed it to keep the poison from doing harm. Perhaps it’s all nonsense. But the King believes it, I suppose.”“Why do you say so?” asked Denis.“Because he’s got a lot of such things in here. I say, don’t you feel as if you’d like to smuggle some of them?”“What!” cried Denis, flushing scarlet and gazing wildly in his companion’s eyes.“Don’t look like that,” cried Carrbroke, laughing. “I said smuggle; I didn’t say steal. I thought you might feel as if you’d like to have one of these charms which hold such magic power.”“I am not afraid of being poisoned,” said Denis huskily. “Here, come away from this; show me something else.”“Oh, haven’t you seen enough? But I say, is this better or worse than Fontainebleau?”“Oh, I don’t know,” said Denis hastily, for he felt mentally disturbed. “They are both beautiful places. Where does that corridor lead?”“All along one side of the King’s apartments.”“Well, let’s go down there.”“But there’s nothing to show you but furniture and walls covered with arras and—oh yes, there is: I know. I say, you haven’t got any secret passages at Fontainebleau?”“We have all kinds of places hidden in the walls. Have you got any here?”Carrbroke nodded.“I say, we are friends, aren’t we?”“Of course; the best of friends.”“Then I’ll show you something; only it’s a secret. Not that it matters about you knowing it, as you are not going to live here. It’s something I found out myself. I was on duty here—as page in attendance on the King—one evening, just at dusk, and the candles weren’t lit. There had been a grand banquet the night before, with music and dancing, and I’d been up all night, and just as it began to grow dark I turned so sleepy I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I tried ever so hard, but it was of no use, and I sank down in a chair close up to the hangings in a dark corner, and was asleep in a moment. I don’t think it could have been long before I woke up again with a start. I suppose some noise must have woke me, and I sat there staring and wondering where I was, for I felt quite stupid, when all at once the arras that covered the wall just opposite to me seemed to open, and something dark came out, to stand still for a few moments as if listening. Then there was a rustling of hangings, and the dark figure came straight towards me, making me turn cold; for I felt then that I had been asleep, and I thought it was some one come to punish me. But the figure did not come close up to where I sat, but suddenly turned off towards a light which appeared at the end of the corridor and came nearer, while directly after I made out that some of the servants were bringing in candles, and directly after, though I only saw his back, I knew it was the King.”“Then he didn’t see you?” said Denis.“No, fortunately for me.”“Then he must have come out of some secret passage.”“That was it, and of course you know what I did afterwards—not then, but the first day that I had the chance?”“Searched for the secret door, of course. I should.”“Yes, and I found it; and that’s what I’m going to show you. We are not likely to be disturbed now.”Before many minutes had elapsed the two youths were standing in front of a huge needlework picture representing a classic scene, covered with warriors and triumphal cars.“There, you wouldn’t think there was a door behind there, would you?”“No, that I shouldn’t,” replied Denis.“But there is. You see that warrior’s shield with the boss on it that stands out as if it were real?”“Yes,” said Denis; “it is very cleverly done.”“Yes, but it is real,” said Carrbroke, and he glanced to right and left to see if they were observed. “We are quite alone. Now you touch that boss.”“Yes: it’s hard and round,” said Denis.“Now give it a twist.”Denis did as he was told, and there was a faint click like the lifting of a latch.“Now push,” continued Carrbroke.Denis again obeyed, and something gave way as if he had pushed a door which opened from him.“Now then,” said Carrbroke, “what do you think of that?”“That if I lifted the arras I could pass into another room.”“Not quite right; not into another room, but into a dark passage made in the wall. I went in one day when the King was out hunting and I felt grumpy because I had been left behind, and I thought I should like to see what there was there.”“Yes, and you went?” said Denis eagerly. “Yes, all along a dark passage for ever so far. Then I came to another door, which opened easily, and there was a flight of stairs; at the bottom of that there was another door and another long passage, twice as long as the first, and then another door.”“Did you open that?”“Yes; and where do you think I was?”“I don’t know. In the cellars perhaps.”“No; in a dark part of the terrace all amongst the trees. Then I wasn’t satisfied, for it was all new to me, and I felt curious to see where the dark winding walk that was before me went to.”“Yes,” said Denis eagerly; “and where did it lead?”“Right away down and down to some stone steps close to a little pavilion on the banks of the river, where there was a boat fastened to a post. That was the King’s private way, of course.”“Yes,” said Denis; “but what did he want it for?”“Oh, I don’t know; and I didn’t want to know, for anyone who meddled with the King’s secrets might come in for the loss of his head, and I didn’t want to lose mine. I came back as fast as I could. There, you can have a look through into the dark passage if you like. Kneel down and lift up the hangings. There, what can you see?” continued the lad, as Denis obeyed, finding the abundant folds give way easily, so that he could peer right beyond.“Nothing at all; it is quite dark.”“Come away,” said Carrbroke quickly. “That’s right,” he continued, and then quickly taking Denis’s place he quite disappeared.“Am I to follow?” said Denis wonderingly; but he had hardly finished speaking before Carrbroke reappeared, laughing.“Only shutting the door,” he said. “Has anyone seen us?”“No,” said Denis, after a glance in both directions.“That’s right,” said Carrbroke. “I say, though, it is interesting, isn’t it? But now I’ve told you I can’t help wondering why I did. But there, you won’t go and tell King Hal that I told you his secrets, will you?”“Not very likely, is it?” said Denis, smiling, but troubled the while by an uncomfortable sensation which made him feel as if he regretted his knowledge, though at the same time he knew that he had acquired information that might be of extreme value if their masquerading were discovered, perhaps mean the saving of his King.His musings were suddenly broken off by the voice of companion.“There,” he said, “let’s go out of doors in the sunshine. I feel as if I had got dark passage on the brain.”

The days passed quickly, with the Kings the best of friends, for Francis proved himself a boon companion, a good horseman, and quite after the King’s own heart.

He made himself a favourite too, and the most courtly at the Court, ready if he had been present to have brought a sneering smile to the lips of Sir Robert Garstang, who, when the minstrels were busy in their gallery, might have seen some justification of the bullying captain’s sneer respecting dancing masters, for Francis was ever ready and eager to lead some Court lady through the mazes of the dance.

For revels were plentiful at Windsor then, and Denis in the companionship of Carrbroke found the time pass pleasantly enough, on the terraces, in the park, and along the banks of the silver Thames; but he was quite forgetful for the most part of the special mission upon which he had crossed the sea.

For Ned Carrbroke had always something fresh to propose in the way of horsemanship, and often enough invited his French companion to sword-play, which was readily accepted; and to Carrbroke’s wonder and delight Leoni would come to look on, and at Denis’s request advise them upon questions dealing with offence and defence, and proper conduct of the rapier both in French and Italian schools.

“Why, he’s splendid,” cried Carrbroke one day, “only I don’t like him. He puts me out of heart. I used to think that I was a good fencer, but when I cross swords with him I feel quite a baby. You are lucky to have some one like that to give you lessons. Why, you must be splendid yourself.”

Denis laughed merrily.

“Why,” he said, “I always feel worse than you. Master Leoni, when I fence with him and he gives me a lesson, makes me feel as if there were magic in his blade which sends a strange aching pain all up the muscles of my arm.”

“Yes,” cried Carrbroke, “that’s something like what I feel. I say, he’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Well, hardly a friend. I feel more afraid of him than anything.”

“Yes,” said Carrbroke eagerly, “that’s how I feel—well, not afraid,” he continued hastily, and flushing up; “but you won’t mind my speaking out? You and I seem to have so taken to one another.”

“Well, yes,” said Denis, “we do seem to like one another a bit.”

“Then you won’t mind my speaking out quite plainly?” continued Carrbroke.

“Not I. What is it?”

“Only this. Do you think that there is something queer in his blade?”

“Only that it is best Italian steel.”

“Yes, of course,” said Carrbroke impatiently. “But I mean what they call magic—that there is something curious in it? You see, it turns so, and seems so strong.”

“Yes, that is strange,” said Denis. “It is no matter how you parry; the point always seems as if it could enter your breast if it liked. I always feel that Master Leoni could kill anyone just as he pleased.”

“Of course you believe in magic?” said Carrbroke.

“I don’t know. I suppose I do,” replied Denis.

“I do,” said Carrbroke; “and your friend seems so different from other men. Look at his eye.”

“Oh, I never do if I can help it,” said Denis. “You’ve noticed it, then?”

“Noticed it?” cried Carrbroke. “Who could help it? When he fixes it on me, as he always does, it makes me shiver; although he is always very kind, there is something about him I can’t understand, and if he were my enemy I should be ready to give everything up and go away. There, what a bad job! I was just going to say, let’s go for a long ride, or else make some of the King’s rowers take us up the river, and then float down, and it’s going to rain, and I don’t want to get wet. It spoils one’s doublet so. Here, I know; I’ll take you all through the castle, if I can, into all the King’s private rooms. They’ll be with the ladies at this time of day. I can show you everything that there is to see.”

“Can you?” said Denis, whose thoughts suddenly turned to his mission there.

“Oh yes; I am allowed to go where I like, as the King’s youngest esquire.” And then half pettishly: “They consider me only a boy. But come along.”

Carrbroke was quite right, for the rain began streaming down; and a few minutes afterwards the two lads were in the royal apartments, which were quite deserted, and Carrbroke was proudly showing the different pictures, King Henry’s armour, and choice collections of weapons of war. At last he stopped in front of a beautiful Italian cabinet which differed from ordinary pieces of furniture, being made to stand four-square in the centre of the apartment, each side being richly ornamented with carving and delicate inlaid work which covered the doors and drawers.

“I wish I had the keys of that,” said Carrbroke.

“Why? What’s inside?”

“I hardly know; but my father told me once to take notice of it, for he believed that it was full of gems and curious jewels that had been presented to the King. I never saw it open yet, but there must be many curiosities there, swords and petronels, as well as jewels.”

“Indeed!” said Denis, colouring slightly.

“Oh yes; some of those curious gems that they say have magic properties—charms, don’t they call them? Magic crystals that confer singular powers upon those who own them, bring good luck, and influence the fate of people. I say, do you believe in such things as that?”

“Ye–es, I think I do,” said Denis, and the colour on his cheeks grew a little deeper, and then deeper still, and he winced a little as if he felt that Carrbroke’s searching eyes were reading his inmost thoughts; and then he started and felt worse, for it seemed to him that his companion suspected his reasons for being there, so that he was ready to utter a sigh of relief when Carrbroke said:

“Well, you needn’t look like that. You needn’t be ashamed to believe in such things. I do, for there’s a lot one doesn’t understand. I was told once that different precious stones have very curious qualities; some will protect anyone from magic, some from enemies. There was a ring I once heard of which if a person wore would guard him from poison. It was an Italian ring, I suppose, for I believe that they try to poison people there.”

“Yes, I have heard so,” said Denis drily, as he stood with his eyes fixed upon the cabinet, wondering whether the treasure Leoni sought could be there. “But it seems nonsense. I don’t see how a diamond or a ruby could do such things.”

“No,” said Carrbroke; “no more do I, unless you swallowed it to keep the poison from doing harm. Perhaps it’s all nonsense. But the King believes it, I suppose.”

“Why do you say so?” asked Denis.

“Because he’s got a lot of such things in here. I say, don’t you feel as if you’d like to smuggle some of them?”

“What!” cried Denis, flushing scarlet and gazing wildly in his companion’s eyes.

“Don’t look like that,” cried Carrbroke, laughing. “I said smuggle; I didn’t say steal. I thought you might feel as if you’d like to have one of these charms which hold such magic power.”

“I am not afraid of being poisoned,” said Denis huskily. “Here, come away from this; show me something else.”

“Oh, haven’t you seen enough? But I say, is this better or worse than Fontainebleau?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Denis hastily, for he felt mentally disturbed. “They are both beautiful places. Where does that corridor lead?”

“All along one side of the King’s apartments.”

“Well, let’s go down there.”

“But there’s nothing to show you but furniture and walls covered with arras and—oh yes, there is: I know. I say, you haven’t got any secret passages at Fontainebleau?”

“We have all kinds of places hidden in the walls. Have you got any here?”

Carrbroke nodded.

“I say, we are friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course; the best of friends.”

“Then I’ll show you something; only it’s a secret. Not that it matters about you knowing it, as you are not going to live here. It’s something I found out myself. I was on duty here—as page in attendance on the King—one evening, just at dusk, and the candles weren’t lit. There had been a grand banquet the night before, with music and dancing, and I’d been up all night, and just as it began to grow dark I turned so sleepy I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I tried ever so hard, but it was of no use, and I sank down in a chair close up to the hangings in a dark corner, and was asleep in a moment. I don’t think it could have been long before I woke up again with a start. I suppose some noise must have woke me, and I sat there staring and wondering where I was, for I felt quite stupid, when all at once the arras that covered the wall just opposite to me seemed to open, and something dark came out, to stand still for a few moments as if listening. Then there was a rustling of hangings, and the dark figure came straight towards me, making me turn cold; for I felt then that I had been asleep, and I thought it was some one come to punish me. But the figure did not come close up to where I sat, but suddenly turned off towards a light which appeared at the end of the corridor and came nearer, while directly after I made out that some of the servants were bringing in candles, and directly after, though I only saw his back, I knew it was the King.”

“Then he didn’t see you?” said Denis.

“No, fortunately for me.”

“Then he must have come out of some secret passage.”

“That was it, and of course you know what I did afterwards—not then, but the first day that I had the chance?”

“Searched for the secret door, of course. I should.”

“Yes, and I found it; and that’s what I’m going to show you. We are not likely to be disturbed now.”

Before many minutes had elapsed the two youths were standing in front of a huge needlework picture representing a classic scene, covered with warriors and triumphal cars.

“There, you wouldn’t think there was a door behind there, would you?”

“No, that I shouldn’t,” replied Denis.

“But there is. You see that warrior’s shield with the boss on it that stands out as if it were real?”

“Yes,” said Denis; “it is very cleverly done.”

“Yes, but it is real,” said Carrbroke, and he glanced to right and left to see if they were observed. “We are quite alone. Now you touch that boss.”

“Yes: it’s hard and round,” said Denis.

“Now give it a twist.”

Denis did as he was told, and there was a faint click like the lifting of a latch.

“Now push,” continued Carrbroke.

Denis again obeyed, and something gave way as if he had pushed a door which opened from him.

“Now then,” said Carrbroke, “what do you think of that?”

“That if I lifted the arras I could pass into another room.”

“Not quite right; not into another room, but into a dark passage made in the wall. I went in one day when the King was out hunting and I felt grumpy because I had been left behind, and I thought I should like to see what there was there.”

“Yes, and you went?” said Denis eagerly. “Yes, all along a dark passage for ever so far. Then I came to another door, which opened easily, and there was a flight of stairs; at the bottom of that there was another door and another long passage, twice as long as the first, and then another door.”

“Did you open that?”

“Yes; and where do you think I was?”

“I don’t know. In the cellars perhaps.”

“No; in a dark part of the terrace all amongst the trees. Then I wasn’t satisfied, for it was all new to me, and I felt curious to see where the dark winding walk that was before me went to.”

“Yes,” said Denis eagerly; “and where did it lead?”

“Right away down and down to some stone steps close to a little pavilion on the banks of the river, where there was a boat fastened to a post. That was the King’s private way, of course.”

“Yes,” said Denis; “but what did he want it for?”

“Oh, I don’t know; and I didn’t want to know, for anyone who meddled with the King’s secrets might come in for the loss of his head, and I didn’t want to lose mine. I came back as fast as I could. There, you can have a look through into the dark passage if you like. Kneel down and lift up the hangings. There, what can you see?” continued the lad, as Denis obeyed, finding the abundant folds give way easily, so that he could peer right beyond.

“Nothing at all; it is quite dark.”

“Come away,” said Carrbroke quickly. “That’s right,” he continued, and then quickly taking Denis’s place he quite disappeared.

“Am I to follow?” said Denis wonderingly; but he had hardly finished speaking before Carrbroke reappeared, laughing.

“Only shutting the door,” he said. “Has anyone seen us?”

“No,” said Denis, after a glance in both directions.

“That’s right,” said Carrbroke. “I say, though, it is interesting, isn’t it? But now I’ve told you I can’t help wondering why I did. But there, you won’t go and tell King Hal that I told you his secrets, will you?”

“Not very likely, is it?” said Denis, smiling, but troubled the while by an uncomfortable sensation which made him feel as if he regretted his knowledge, though at the same time he knew that he had acquired information that might be of extreme value if their masquerading were discovered, perhaps mean the saving of his King.

His musings were suddenly broken off by the voice of companion.

“There,” he said, “let’s go out of doors in the sunshine. I feel as if I had got dark passage on the brain.”

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