A Ladder of Swords: A Tale of Love, Laughter and Tears

by Gilbert Parker

  VI

  Michel de la Foret was gone, a prisoner. From the dusk of the treesby the little chapel of Rozel, Angele had watched his exit in chargeof the governor's men. She had not sought to show her presence; shehad seen him--that was comfort to her heart; and she would not marthe memory of that last night's farewell by another before thesestrangers. She saw with what quiet Michel bore his arrest, and shesaid to herself, as the last halberdier vanished:

  "If the Queen do but speak with him, if she but look upon his faceand hear his voice, she must needs deal kindly by him. My Michel--ah,it is a face for all men to trust and all women--"

  But she sighed and averted her head as though before prying eyes.

  The bell of Rozel chapel broke gently on the evening air; the sound,softened by the leaves and mellowed by the wood of the greatelm-trees, billowed away till it was lost in faint reverberation inthe sea beneath the cliffs of the Couperon, where a little craft wascoming to anchor in the dead water.

  At first the sound of the bell soothed her, softening the thought ofthe danger to Michel. She moved with it towards the sea, the tones ofher grief chiming with it. Presently, as she went, a priest incassock and robes and stole crossed the path in front of her, anacolyte before him swinging a censer, his voice chanting Latin versesfrom the service for the sick, in his hands the sacred elements ofthe communion for the dying. The priest was fat and heavy, his voicewas lazy, his eyes expressionless, and his robes were dirty. Theplaintive, peaceful sense which the sound of the vesper-bell hadthrown over Angele's sad reflections passed away, and the thoughtsmote her that, were it not for such as this black-toothed priest,Michel would not now be on his way to England, a prisoner. To herthis vesper-bell was the symbol of tyranny and hate. It was fighting,it was martyrdom, it was exile, it was the Medici. All that she hadborne, all that her father had borne, the thought of the home lost,the mother dead before her time, the name ruined, the heritagedispossessed, the red war of the Camisards, the rivulets of blood inthe streets of Paris and of her loved Rouen, smote upon her mind anddrove her to her knees in the forest glade, her hands upon her earsto shut out the sound of the bell. It came upon her that the bell hadsaid "Peace! Peace!" to her mind when there should be no peace; thatit had said "Be patient!" when she should be up and doing; that ithad whispered "Stay!" when she should tread the path her lover trod,her feet following in his footsteps as his feet had trod in hers.

  She pressed her hands tight upon her ears and prayed with a passionand a fervor she had never known before. A revelation seemed to comeupon her, and, for the first time, she was a Huguenot to the core.Hitherto she had suffered for her religion because it was hermother's broken life, her father's faith, and because they hadsuffered and her lover had suffered. Her mind had been convinced, herloyalty had been unwavering, her words for the great cause hadmeasured well with her deeds. But new senses were suddenly born inher, new eyes were given to her mind, new powers for endurance to hersoul. She saw now as the martyrs of Meaux had seen; a passionatefaith descended on her as it had descended on them; no longer onlypatient, she was fain for action. Tears rained from her eyes. Herheart burst itself in entreaty and confession.

  "Thy light shall be my light, and Thy will my will, O Lord," shecried at the last. "Teach me Thy way, create a right spirit withinme. Give me boldness without rashness, and hope without vainthinking. Bear up my arms, O Lord, and save me when falling. A poorSamaritan am I. Give me the water that shall be a well of waterspringing up to everlasting life, that I thirst not in the fever ofdoing. Give me the manna of life to eat that I faint not nor cry outin plague, pestilence, or famine. Give me Thy grace, O God, as Thouhas given it to Michel de la Foret, and guide my feet as I follow himin life and in death, for Christ's sake. Amen."

  As she rose from her knees she heard the evening gun from the Castleof Mont Orgueil, whither Michel was being borne by the Queen's men.The vesper-bell had stopped. Through the wood came the salt savor ofthe sea on the cool sunset air. She threw back her head and walkedswiftly towards it, her heart beating hard, her eyes shining with thelight of purpose, her step elastic with the vigor of youth andhealth. A quarter-hour's walking brought her to the cliff of theCouperon.

  As she gazed out over the sea, however, a voice in the bay belowcaught her ear. She looked down. On the deck of the little craftwhich had entered the harbor when the vesper-bell was ringing stood aman who waved a hand up towards her, then gave a peculiar call. Shestared with amazement: it was Buonespoir the pirate. What did thismean? Had God sent this man to her, by his presence to suggest whatshe should do in this crisis in her life? For even as she ran downthe shore towards him, it came to her mind that Buonespoir shouldtake her in his craft to England.

  What to do in England? Who could tell? She only knew that a voicecalled her to England to follow the footsteps of Michel de la Foret,who even this night would be setting forth in the governor'sbrigantine for London.

  Buonespoir met her upon the shore, grinning like a boy.

  "God save you, lady!" he said.

  "What brings you hither, friend?" she asked.

  If he had said that a voice had called him hither as one called herto England, it had not sounded strange; for she was not thinking thatthis was one who superstitiously swore by the little finger of St.Peter, but only that he was the man who had brought her Michel fromFrance, who had been a faithful friend to her and to her father.

  "What brings me hither?" Buonespoir laughed low in his chest. "Evento fetch to the Seigneur of Rozel, a friend of mine by every token ofremembrance, a dozen flagons of golden muscadella."

  To Angele no suggestion flashed that these flagons of muscadella hadcome from the cellar of the Seigneur of St. Ouen's, where they hadbeen reserved for a certain royal visit. Nothing was in her mind savethe one thought--that she must follow Michel.

  "Will you take me to England?" she asked, putting a hand quickly onhis arm.

  He had been laughing hard, picturing to himself what Lempriere ofRozel would say when he sniffed the flagon of St. Ouen's best wine,and for an instant he did not take in the question; but he stared ather now as the laugh slowly subsided through notes of abstraction,and her words worked their way into his brain.

  "Will you take me, Buonespoir?" she urged.

  "Take you--?" he questioned.

  "To England."

  "And myself to Tyburn?"

  "Nay, to the Queen."

  "'Tis the same thing. Head of Abel! Elizabeth hath heard of me. TheSeigneur of St. Ouen's and others have writ me down a pirate to her.She would not pardon the muscadella," he added, with another laugh,looking down where the flagons lay.

  "She must pardon more than that," exclaimed Angele, and hastily shetold him of what had happened to Michel de la Foret and why she wouldgo.

  "Thy father, then?" he asked, scowling hard in his attempt to thinkit out.

  "He must go with me--I will seek him now."

  "It must be at once, i' faith, for how long, think you, can I stayhere unharmed? I was sighted off St. Ouen's shore a few hours agone."

  "To-night?" she asked.

  "By twelve, when we shall have the moon and the tide," he answered."But hold!" he hastily added. "What, think you, could you and yourfather do alone in England? And with me it were worse than alone.These be dark times, when strangers have spies at their heels and alltravellers be suspect."

  "We will trust in God," she answered.

  "Have you money?" he questioned--"for London, not for me," he added,hastily.

  "Enough," she replied.

  "The trust with the money is a weighty matter," he added; "but theysuffice not. You must have 'fending."

  "There is no one," she answered, sadly, "no one save--"

  "Save the Seigneur of Rozel!" Buonespoir finished the sentence."Good. You to your father and I to the seigneur. If you can fetchyour father by your pot-of-honey tongue, I'll fetch the greatLempriere with muscadella. Is't a bargain?"

  "In which I gain all," she answered, and again touched h
is arm withher finger-tips.

  "You shall be aboard here at ten, and I will join you on the strokeof twelve," he said, and gave a low whistle.

  At the signal three men sprang up like magic out of the bowels of theboat beneath them, and scurried over the side; three as ripe knavesas ever cheated stocks and gallows, but simple knaves, unlike theirmaster. Two of them had served with Francis Drake in that good shipof his lying even now not far from Elizabeth's palace at Greenwich.The third was a rogue who had been banished from Jersey for anhabitual drunkenness which only attacked him on land--at sea he wassacredly sober. His name was Jean Nicolle. The names of the other twowere Herve Robin and Rouge le Riche, but their master called them byother names.

  "Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego," said Buonespoir, in ceremony, andwaved a hand of homage between them and Angele. "Kiss dirt, and knowwhere duty lies. The lady's word on my ship is law till we anchor atthe Queen's Stairs at Greenwich. So, Heaven help you, Shadrach,Meshach, and Abednego!" said Buonespoir.

  A wave of humor passed over Angele's grave face, for a strangerquartet never sailed high seas together: one blind of an eye, onegame of a leg, one bald as a bottle and bereft of two front teeth;but Buonespoir was sound of wind and limb, his small face with thebig eyes lost in the masses of his red hair, and a body likeHercules. It flashed through Angele's mind even as she answered thegurgling salutations of the triumvirate that they had been gottogether for no gentle summer sailing in the Channel. Her consciencesmote her that she should use such churls; but she gave it comfort bythe thought that while serving her they could do naught worse; andher cause was good. Yet they presented so bizarre an aspect, theirugliness was so varied and particular, that she almost laughed.Buonespoir understood her thoughts, for with a look of mockinginnocence in his great blue eyes he waved a hand again towards thegraceless trio, and said, "For deep-sea fishing," then solemnlywinked at the three.

  * * * * *

  A moment later Angele was speeding along the shore towards her homeon the farther hill-side up the little glen; and within an hourBuonespoir rolled from the dusk of the trees by the manor-house ofRozel and knocked at the door. He carried on his head, as a fishwifecarries a tray of ormers, a basket full of flagons of muscadella; andhe did not lower the basket when he was shown into the room where theSeigneur of Rozel was sitting before a trencher of spiced veal and agreat pot of ale. Lempriere roared a hearty greeting to the pirate,for he was in a sour humor because of the taking-off of Michel de laForet; and of all men this pirate-fellow, who had quips and cranks,and had played tricks on his cousin of St. Ouen's, was most welcome.

  "What's that on your teacup of a head?" he roared again, asBuonespoir grinned pleasure at the greeting.

  "Muscadella," said Buonespoir, and lowered the basket to the table.

  Lempriere seized a flagon, drew it forth, looked closely at it, thenburst into laughter, and spluttered, "St. Ouen's muscadella, by thehand of Rufus!"

  Seizing Buonespoir by the shoulders, he forced him down upon a benchat the table, and pushed the trencher of spiced meat against hischest. "Eat, my noble lord of the sea and master of the cellar!" hegurgled out, and, tipping the flagon of muscadella, took a longdraught. "God-a-mercy--but it has saved my life," he gasped insatisfaction as he lay back in his great chair and put his feet onthe bench whereon Buonespoir sat.

  They raised their flagons and toasted each other, and Lempriere burstforth into song, in the refrain of which Buonespoir joinedboisterously:

  "King Rufus he did hunt the deer, With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! It was the spring-time of the year, Hey ho, Dolly shut her eyes! King Rufus was a bully boy, He hunted all the day for joy, Sweet Dolly she was ever coy: And who would e'er be wise That looked in Dolly's eyes?

  "King Rufus he did have his day, With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! So get ye forth where dun deer play-- Hey ho, Dolly comes again! The greenwood is the place for me, For that is where the dun deer be, 'Tis where my Dolly comes to me: And who would stay at home, That might with Dolly roam? Sing hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly!"

  Lempriere, perspiring with the exertion, mopped his forehead, thenlapsed into a plaintive mood.

  "I've had naught but trouble of late," he wheezed. "Trouble! trouble!trouble! like gnats on a filly's flank!" and in spluttering words,twice bracketed in muscadella, he told of Michel de la Foret'sarrest, and of his purpose to go to England if he could get a boat totake him.

  "'Tis that same business brings me here," said Buonespoir, andforthwith told of his meeting with Angele and what was then agreedupon.

  "You to go to England!" cried Lempriere, amazed. "They want you forTyburn there."

  "They want me for the gallows here," said Buonespoir. Rolling apiece of spiced meat in his hand, he stuffed it into his mouth andchewed till the grease came out of his eyes, and took eagerly from aservant a flagon of malmsey and a dish of ormers.

  "Hush! chew thy tongue a minute," said the seigneur, suddenlystarting and laying a finger beside his nose. "Hush!" he said, again,and looked into the flicker of the candle by him with half-shut eyes.

  "May I have no rushes for a bed, and die like a rat in a moat, if Idon't get thy pardon, too, of the Queen, and bring thee back toJersey, a thorn in the side of De Carteret forever! He'll look uponthee assoilzied by the Queen, spitting fire in his rage, and nocanary or muscadella in his cellar."

  It came not to the mind of either that this expedition would be madeat cost to themselves. They had not heard of Don Quixote, and theirgifts were not imitative. They were of a day when men held theirlives as lightly as many men hold their honor now, when championshipwas as the breath of life to men's nostrils, and to adventure forwhat was worth having or doing in life the only road of reputation.

  Buonespoir was as much a champion in his ways as Lempriere of Rozel.They were of like kidney, though so far apart in rank. Had Lemprierebeen born as low and as poor as Buonespoir, he would have been apirate, too, no doubt; and had Buonespoir been born as high as theseigneur, he would have carried himself with the same rough sense ofhonor, with as ripe a vanity, have been as naive, as sincere, as trueto the real heart of man untaught in the dissimulation of modesty orreserve. When they shook hands across the trencher of spiced veal, itwas as man shakes hand with man, not man with master.

  They were about to start upon their journey when there came aknocking at the door. On its being opened the bald and toothlessAbednego stumbled in with the word that immediately after Angele andher father came aboard the _Honeyflower_ some fifty halberdierssuddenly appeared upon the Couperon. They had at once set sail, andgot away even before the sailors had reached the shore. As they hadrounded the point, where they were hid from view, Abednego droppedoverboard and swam ashore on the rising tide, making his way to themanor to warn Buonespoir. On his way hither, stealing through thetrees, he had passed a half-score of halberdiers making for themanor, and he had seen others going towards the shore.

  Buonespoir looked to the priming of his pistols, and, buckling hisbelt tightly about him, turned to the seigneur and said: "I will takemy chances with Abednego. Where does she lie--the _Honeyflower_,Abednego?"

  "Off the point called Verclut," answered the little man, who hadtravelled with Francis Drake.

  "Good; we will make a run for it, flying dot-and-carry-one as we go."

  While they had been speaking the seigneur had been thinking; and now,even as several figures appeared at a little distance in the trees,making towards the manor, he said, with a loud laugh:

  "BUONESPOIR LOOKED TO THE PRIMING OF HIS PISTOLS"]

  "No. 'Tis the way of a fool to put his head between the door and thejamb. 'Tis but a hundred yards to safety. Follow me--to thesea--Abednego last. This way, bullies!"

  Without a word all three left the house and walked on in the orderindicated, as De Carteret's halberdiers ran forward threatening.

  "Stand!" shouted the sergeant of the halber
diers. "Stand, or wefire!"

  But the three walked straight on unheeding. When the sergeant of themen-at-arms recognized the seigneur he ordered down theblunderbusses.

  "We come for Buonespoir the pirate," said the sergeant.

  "Whose warrant?" said the seigneur, fronting the halberdiers,Buonespoir and Abednego behind him.

  "The Seigneur of St. Ouen's," was the reply.

  "My compliments to the Seigneur of St. Ouen's, and tell him thatBuonespoir is my guest," he bellowed, and strode on, the halberdiersfollowing. Suddenly the seigneur swerved towards the chapel andquickened his footsteps, the others but a step behind. The sergeantof the halberdiers was in a quandary. He longed to shoot, but darednot, and while he was making up his mind what to do the seigneur hadreached the chapel door. Opening it, he quickly pushed Buonespoir andAbednego inside, whispering to them, then slammed the door and puthis back against it.

  There was another moment's hesitation on the sergeant's part, then adoor at the other end of the chapel was heard to open and shut, andthe seigneur laughed loudly. The halberdiers ran round the chapel.There stood Buonespoir and Abednego in a narrow road-way, motionlessand unconcerned. The halberdiers rushed forward.

  "Perquage! Perquage! Perquage!" shouted Buonespoir, and the brightmoonlight showed him grinning.

  For an instant there was deadly stillness, in which the approachingfootsteps of the seigneur sounded loud.

  "Perquage!" Buonespoir repeated.

  "Perquage! Fall back!" said the seigneur, and waved off the pikes ofthe halberdiers. "He has sanctuary to the sea."

  This narrow road in which the pirates stood was the last of three inthe Isle of Jersey, running from churches to the sea, in which acriminal was safe from arrest by virtue of an old statute. The other_perquages_ had been taken away, but this one of Rozel remained, aconcession made by Henry VIII. to the father of this Raoul Lempriere.The privilege had been used but once in the present seigneur's day,because the criminal must be put upon the road from the chapel by theseigneur himself, and he had used his privilege modestly.

  No man in Jersey but knew the sacredness of this _perquage_, thoughit was ten years since it had been used; and no man, not even thegovernor himself, dare lift his hand to one upon that road.

  So it was that Buonespoir and Abednego, two fugitives from justice,walked quietly to the sea down the _perquage_, halberdiers, balkedof their prey, prowling on their steps and cursing the Seigneur ofRozel for his gift of sanctuary--for the Seigneur of St. Ouen's andthe royal court had promised each halberdier three shillings and allthe ale he could drink at a sitting if Buonespoir was brought inalive or dead.

  In peace and safety the three boarded the _Honeyflower_ off the pointcalled Verclut, and set sail for England, just seven hours afterMichel de la Foret had gone his way upon the Channel, a prisoner.