The White Plumes of Navarre: A Romance of the Wars of Religion
Page 22
CHAPTER XXI.
THE TIGER IN THE FOX'S TRAP
Above, in the Chateau of Blois, there were two men waiting the coming ofHenry, Duke of Guise. One was another Henry, he of Valois, King ofFrance. He had many things to avenge--his own folly and imprudence mostof all, though, indeed, these never troubled him. Only the matter ofColigny, and the sombre shades of the dead upon St. Bartholomew's Eve,haunted his repose.
At the private gathering of the conspirators, the King had found manywho were willing to sympathise with him in his woes, but few who woulddrive the steel.
"The Parliament are to make Constable of France the man who is intent onpulling down my throne. I shudder with horror (he whined) to think thatthe nobles of France support the Guises in this--I speak not of fanaticbishops and loud-mouthed priests, who cry against me from every pulpitbecause I will not have more Colignys gibbering at my bed-foot, nor yetgive them leave to burn Frenchmen by the score, as Philip does hisSpaniards t'other side the mountains!"
The Marshal d'Aumont, D'O, and Lognac, the Captain of the Forty-FiveGuardsmen, bowed respectful assent.
"What is the state of France, friends," the King cried, in a frenzy ofrage, "I bid you tell me, when an alien disputes the throne of FrancisFirst with the legitimate heir of Saint Louis? And what of Paris, mycapital city, wherein I have lived like a bourgeois these many years,which receives him with shouts and caressings, but chases me withoutlike a dog?--aye, like a dog!"
The comparison seemed to strike him.
"'Without are dogs,' I have heard the priests say. Well, as to heaven,it may be so. But as to Paris, be sure that if the dogs arewithout--within are wolves and serpents and all manner of uncleanbeasts! I would rather trust the Bearnais than any of them!"
There was some dismay at this. It stood out on the faces of the leadersat the council board. If His Majesty went to the King of Navarre, theyknew well that their day would be over. However, they swore to doeverything that the King required, but of them all, only Lognac meant tokeep his word. He was a stout fighter. The killing of Guise was all inthe way of business; and if the worst came to the worst, the Bearnaiswould not refuse a company to one who, in his time, had been Captain ofthe Forty-Five.
Henry of Valois had been up early that morning, called from his slumbersto bait the trap with his most secret cunning. He did not mean to takeany part in the deed himself. For the soldier who had fought so wellagainst Coligny now dodged out and in, like a rat behind the arras.
The Scots Guards were posted in the courtyard of the Chateau, to shutthe entrances as soon as the Duke of Guise should have passed within. Inthe great hall were the Lords of the Council--the Cardinal of Guise,the Archbishop of Lyons, that clarion of the League, the CardinalVendome, the Marshal d'Aumont, D'O, the Royal favourite, together withthe usual clerks and secretaries.
But within, in the ancient chamber of audience, next to the cabinet ofthe King himself, stood in waiting certain Gascons, ready with theirdaggers only half-dissembled under their cloaks. They were men of nodetermined courage, and the King well knew that they might fail him atthe last moment. So, by the advice of Hamilton and Larchant of the ScotsGuard, he had placed nearest to the door one who would make nomistake--him whom the Man in the Black Cloak had sent, evenJean-aux-Choux, the Fool of the Three Henries.
But on that mask of a face there was now no sign of folly. Stern, grey,immovable was now the countenance of him who, by his mirth, had set manycourts in a roar. He could hear, as he had heard it on the night of theBartholomew, the voice of the Duke of Guise crying, "Haste ye--is thework not done yet?"
And now another "work" was to be done. The feet that had spurned Colignywere even now upon the stairs. He thanked God. Now he would perform hisvow upon the man who had made him go through life hideous and alaughing-stock.
For in those days the New Law concerning the forgiveness of enemies wasa dead letter. If you wished to live, you had better not forgive yourenemy--till after you had slain him. And the dread "Remember theBartholomew," printed on all Huguenot hearts, was murmured behind theclenched teeth of Jean-aux-Choux. The Huguenots would be avenged.Innocent blood would no more cry unheeded from the ground. The hatedLeague would fall with its chief. With Guise would perish the Guisards.
* * * * *
The princes of Lorraine had beheld their power grow through four reigns.It culminated on the day of the Barricades, when a king of Franceappealed to a subject to deliver him from the anger of the citizens ofhis own capital. So, secure in his power, Guise scorned all thought ofharm to himself.
"They dare not," he repeated over and over, both to himself and toothers; "the King--his kingdom--hangs upon a single hair, and that hairis my life!"
So he walked into the armed and defended fortress of his mortal enemy asfreely as into his own house. Like perfect love, perfect contemptcasteth out fear.
Yet when once he had saluted the company in the hall of audience, Guisesat him down by the fire and complained of being cold. He had, he said,lain down in his damp clothes, and had risen up hastily to obey theKing's message.
"Soon you will be hot enough upon the branders of Tophet!" muttered D'O,the royal favourite, to Revol, the King's secretary, who went and camebetween the inner cabinet and the chamber where the council were sittingabout a great table.
The superintendent of the finances, one Petremol, was reading a report.The Archbishop of Lyons bent over to the Duke of Guise, where he satwarming him by the fire.
"Where goes our royal Penitent so early--I mistrust his zeal? Andspecially," he added, as a furious burst of sleet battered like drivensea-spray on the leaded panes of the council room, "on such a morning;it were shame to turn out a dog."
"Oh, the dog goes of his own will--into retreat, as usual!" said theDuke carelessly; "in half-an-hour we shall see him set off with a dozensilken scourges and the softest down pillows in the castle. Our reverendHenry is of the excellent order of Saint Commode!"
Presently, leaving the fireside, the Duke returned to the table wherethe others sat. It was observed that he was still pale. But the qualmwas physical only; no shade of fear mixed with it. He asked for ahandkerchief from any of his people who might have followed him. As thegreatest care had been taken to exclude these, he was supplied with onefrom the King's own wardrobe by St. Prix, the King's _valet de chambre_.Then he asked for comfits to stop his cold, but all that could be foundwithin the castle was only a paper of prunes of Brignolles, with whichGuise had to content himself, instead of the Smyrna raisins and roseconserves of Savoy which he asked for.
He chatted indifferently with one and another while the routine of thecouncil unrolled itself monotonously.
"I think brother Henry might have let us sleep in our beds, if this beall," he said. "What is the use of bringing us here at this hour, topronounce on the fate of rascals who have done no worse than hold a fewHuguenots to ransom? Wait a while, and we will give the Huguenotssomething that will put ransoming them out of the question!"
The Cardinal smiled at his brother shrewdly.
"Aye," he murmured, "but we will have the ransoms also. For, you know,the earth belongeth to the Lord, and He has given it to the chosen ofHis Church."
A hand touched the Duke's shoulder; a voice murmured in his ear. A softvoice--a voice that trembled. It was that of Revol, the King'ssecretary, whom at first De Nambre, one of the Forty-Five on guard atthe door, would not permit to pass. Whereupon the King popped his headout of the closet to give the necessary order, and seeing the young manpale, he called out, "Revol, what's the matter with you? Revol, you areas white as paper, man! Rub your cheeks, Revol. Else you will spoilall!"
Henry III. always liked handsome young men about him, and certainly themessenger of death never came in a prettier form to any than when youngRevol tapped the Duke of Guise on the shoulder as he sat by the councilboard.
The chief of the League rose and, courteous to the last, he bowedgraciously to the Cardinal Vendome, to whom he had not
yet had theopportunity of speaking that day. He threw his cloak carefully over onearm, and in the other hand he took his silver comfit-box (for he everloved sweet things) containing the prunes of Brignolles. He entered intothe little narrow passage. De Nambre shut the door behind him. The tigerwas in the fox's trap.
Vaguely Guise saw stern faces about him, but as was usual with him, hepaid no particular heed, only saluting them as he had done the shoutingspice-merchants' 'prentices and general varletage of Paris, whichfollowed everywhere on his heels.
The eight Gascons held back, though their hands were on their daggers.After all, the tiger was a tiger, and they were but hirelings. Thecurtain which hid the King's closet shook as in a gale of wind. Butsuddenly the terrible mask of Jean-aux-Choux surged up, so changed thatthe victim did not recognise the man who had often made sport beforehim.
"For Coligny--one!" cried the tragic fool.
And at that dread word the other traitor behind the arras might wellhave trembled also. Then Jean struck his first blow.
"Saint Bartholomew!" cried Jean-aux-Choux, and struck the second time.
The Duke fell on his knees. The eight Gascons precipitated themselvesupon the man who had been deemed, and who had deemed himself, the mostinvincible of the sons of men.
So strong was he that, even in death, he dragged them all after him,like hounds tearing at the flanks of a dying tiger, till, with a cry of"Oh, my friends--oh, what treachery! My sins----" the breath of lifewent from him. And he fell prone, still clutching in his agony the footof the King's bed.
Then the turbaned, weasel face, pale and ghastly, jerked out of theroyal closet, and the quavering voice of the King asked Guise's ownquestion of sixteen years before--"Have you finished the work? Is hedead?"
Being assured that his enemy was indeed dead, Henry at last came out,standing over the body of the great Leaguer, holding back the skirts ofhis dressing-gown with his hand.
"Ah, but he is big!" he said, and spurned him with his foot. Then he puthis hands on his brow, as if for a moment to hide the sight, or perhapsto commune with himself. Suddenly he thrust out an arm and called theman-slayers about him.
"Ye are my hands and arms," he said; "I shall not forget that you havedone this for my sake."
"Not I!" said Jean-aux-Choux promptly. "I have done it for the sake ofColigny, whom he murdered even so. His blood--my master's blood--hascalled a long while from the ground. And so"--looking straight at theKing--"perish all those who put their hands to the slaughter of theBartholomew night."
Then King Henry of Valois abased his eyes, and men could hear his teethchatter in his head. For, indeed, he and Catherine, his mother--the samewho now lay a-dying in the chamber below--had guided, with foxy cunningand Italianate guile, that deadly conjuration.
He was, however, too much elated to be long subdued.
"At any rate," he said, "Guise is dead. I am avenged upon mine enemy.Guise is dead! But some others yet live."