CHAPTER VI.
UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI.
So that was their plan. Two or three hours to the southward, the longwhite glittering wall stretched east and west above the brown woods.Beyond that lay Spain. Once across the border, I might be detained, ifno worse happened to me, as a prisoner of war; for we were then at warwith Spain on the Italian side. Or I might be handed over to one ofthe savage bands, half smugglers, half brigands, that held the passes;or be delivered--worst fate of all--into the power of the Frenchexiles, of whom some would be likely to recognize me and cut mythroat.
"It is a long way into Spain," I muttered, watching in a kind offascination Clon handling his pistols.
"I think you will find the other road longer still!" the landlordanswered grimly. "But choose, and be quick about it."
They were three to one, and they had firearms. In effect I had nochoice. "Well, if I must I must!" I cried, making up my mind withseeming recklessness. "_Vogue la galere!_ Spain be it. It will not bethe first time I have heard the dons talk."
The men nodded, as much as to say that they had known what the endwould be; the landlord released my rein; and in a trice we were ridingdown the narrow track, with our faces set towards the mountains.
On one point my mind was now more easy. The men meant fairly by me;and I had no longer to fear, as I had feared, a pistol shot in theback at the first convenient ravine. As far as that went, I might ridein peace. On the other hand, if I let them carry me across the bordermy fate was sealed. A man set down without credentials or guards amongthe wild desperadoes who swarmed in war time in the Asturian passesmight consider himself fortunate if an easy death fell to his lot. Inmy case I could make a shrewd guess what would happen. A single nod ofmeaning, one muttered word, dropped among the savage men with whom Ishould be left, and the diamonds hidden in my boot would go neither tothe Cardinal nor back to Mademoiselle--nor would it matter to mewhither they went.
So while the others talked in their taciturn fashion, or sometimesgrinned at my gloomy face, I looked out over the brown woods with eyesthat saw, yet did not see. The red squirrel swarming up the trunk, thestartled pigs that rushed away grunting from their feast of mast, thesolitary rider who met us, armed to the teeth, and passed northwardsafter whispering with the landlord--all these I saw. But my mind wasnot with them. It was groping and feeling about like a hunted mole forsome way of escape. For time pressed. The slope we were on was growingsteeper. By-and-bye we fell into a southward valley, and began tofollow it steadily upwards, crossing and recrossing a swiftly rushingstream. The snow-peaks began to be hidden behind the rising bulk ofhills that overhung us; and sometimes we could see nothing before orbehind but the wooded walls of our valley rising sheer and green athousand paces on either hand, with grey rocks half masked by fern andivy getting here and there through the firs and alders.
It was a wild and sombre scene even at that hour, with the midday sunshining on the rushing water and drawing the scent out of the pines;but I knew that there was worse to come, and sought desperately forsome ruse by which I might at least separate the men. Three were toomany; with one I might deal. At last, when I had cudgelled my brainfor an hour, and almost resigned myself to a sudden charge on the mensingle-handed--a last desperate resort--I thought of a plan,dangerous, too, and almost desperate, but which still seemed topromise something. It came of my fingers resting in my pocket on thefragments of the orange sachet, which, without having any particulardesign in my mind, I had taken care to bring with me. I had torn thesachet into four pieces--four corners. As I played mechanically withthem, one of my fingers fitted into one, as into a glove; a secondfinger into another. And the plan came.
Still, before I could move in it, I had to wait until we stopped tobait the flagging horses, which we did about noon at the head of thevalley. Then, pretending to drink from the stream, I managed to secureunseen a handful of pebbles, slipping them into the same pocket withthe morsels of stuff. On getting to horse again, I carefully fitted apebble, not too tightly, into the largest scrap, and made ready forthe attempt.
The landlord rode on my left, abreast of me; the other two knavesbehind. The road at this stage favoured me, for the valley, whichdrained the bare uplands that lay between the lower spurs and the baseof the real mountains, had become wide and shallow. Here were notrees, and the path was a mere sheep-track covered with short crispgrass, and running sometimes on this bank of the stream and sometimeson that.
I waited until the ruffian beside me turned to speak to the menbehind. The moment he did so and his eyes were averted, I slipped outthe scrap of satin in which I had placed the pebble, and balancing itcarefully on my right thigh as I rode, I flipped it forward with allthe strength of my thumb and finger. I meant it to fall a few pacesbefore us in the path, where it could be seen. But alas for my hopes!At the critical moment my horse started, my finger struck the scrapaslant, the pebble flew out, and the bit of stuff fluttered into awhin-bush close to my stirrup--and was lost!
I was bitterly disappointed, for the same thing might happen again,and I had now only three scraps left. But fortune favoured me, byputting it into my neighbour's head to plunge into a hot debate withthe shock-headed man on the nature of some animals seen on a distantbrow; which he said were izards, while the other maintained that theywere common goats. He continued, on this account, to ride with hisface turned the other way. I had time to fit another pebble into thesecond piece of stuff, and sliding it on to my thigh, poised it, andflipped it.
This time my finger struck the tiny missile fairly in the middle, andshot it so far and so truly that it dropped exactly in the path tenpaces in front of us. The moment I saw it fall I kicked my neighbour'snag in the ribs; it started, and he, turning in a rage, hit it. Thenext instant he pulled it almost on to its haunches.
"Saint Gris!" he cried; and sat glaring at the bit of yellow satin,with his face turned purple and his jaw fallen.
"What is it?" I said, staring at him in turn. "What is the matter,fool?"
"Matter?" he blurted out. "_Mon Dieu!_"
But Clon's excitement surpassed even his. The dumb man no sooner sawwhat had attracted his comrade's attention, than he uttered aninarticulate and horrible noise, and tumbling off his horse, more likea beast than a man, threw himself bodily on the precious morsel.
The innkeeper was not far behind him. An instant and he was down, too,peering at the thing; and for an instant I thought that they wouldfight over it. However, though their jealousy was evident, theirexcitement cooled a little when they discovered that the scrap ofstuff was empty; for, fortunately, the pebble had fallen out of it.Still, it threw them into such a fever of eagerness as it waswonderful to witness. They nosed the ground where it had lain, theyplucked up the grass and turf, and passed it through their fingers,they ran to and fro like dogs on a trail; and, glancing askance at oneanother, came back always together to the point of departure. Neitherin his jealousy would suffer the other to be there alone.
The shock-headed man and I sat our horses and looked on; hemarvelling, and I pretending to marvel. As the two searched up anddown the path, we moved a little out of it to give them space; andpresently, when all their heads were turned from me, I let a secondmorsel drop under a gorse-bush. The shock-headed man, by-and-bye,found this, and gave it to Clon; and, as from the circumstances of thefirst discovery no suspicion attached to me, I ventured to find thethird and last scrap myself. I did not pick it up, but I called theinnkeeper, and he pounced on it as I have seen a hawk pounce on achicken.
They hunted for the fourth morsel, but, of course, in vain, and in theend they desisted, and fitted the three they had together; but neitherwould let his own portion out of his hands, and each looked at theother across the spoil with eyes of suspicion. It was strange to seethem in that wide-stretching valley, whence grey boar-backs of hillsswelled up into the silence of the snow--it was strange, I say, inthat vast solitude to see these two, mere dots on its bosom, circlingro
und one another in fierce forgetfulness of the outside world,glaring and shifting their ground like cocks about to engage, andwholly engrossed--by three scraps of orange-colour, invisible at fiftypaces!
At last the innkeeper cried with an oath: "I am going back. This mustbe known down yonder. Give me your pieces, man, and do you go withAntoine. It will be all right."
But Clon, waving a scrap in either hand and thrusting his ghastly maskinto the other's face, shook his head in passionate denial. He couldnot speak, but he made it clear that if any one went back with thenews he was the man to go.
"Nonsense!" the landlord retorted fiercely. "We cannot leave Antoineto go on alone with him. Give me the stuff."
But Clon would not. He had no thought of resigning the credit of thediscovery, and I began to think that the two would really come toblows. But there was an alternative, and first one and then the otherlooked at me. It was a moment of peril, and I knew it. My stratagemmight react on myself, and the two, to put an end to this difficulty,agree to put an end to me. But I faced them so coolly and showed sobold a front, and the ground was so open, that the idea took no root.They fell to wrangling again more viciously than before. One tappedhis gun and the other his pistols. The landlord scolded, the dumb mangurgled. At last their difference ended as I had hoped it would.
"Very well then, we will both go back!" the innkeeper cried in a rage."And Antoine must see him on. But the blame be on your head. Do yougive the lad your pistols."
Clon took one pistol and gave it to the shock-headed man.
"The other!" the innkeeper said impatiently.
But Clon shook his head with a grim smile, and pointed to thearquebuss.
By a sudden movement the landlord snatched the pistol, and avertedClon's vengeance by placing both it and the gun in the shock-headedman's hands. "There!" he said, addressing the latter, "now can you do?If Monsieur tries to escape or turn back, shoot him! But four hours'riding should bring you to the Roca Blanca. You will find the menthere, and will have no more to do with it."
Antoine did not see things quite in that light, however. He looked atme, and then at the wild track in front of us; and he muttered an oathand said he would die if he would. But the landlord, who was in afrenzy of impatience, drew him aside and talked to him, and in the endseemed to persuade him; for in a few minutes the matter was settled.Antoine came back and said sullenly, "Forward, Monsieur," the twoothers stood on one side, I shrugged my shoulders and kicked up myhorse, and in a twinkling we two were riding on together--man to man.I turned once or twice to see what those we had left behind weredoing, and always found them standing in apparent debate; but my guardshowed so much jealousy of these movements that I presently shruggedmy shoulders again and desisted.
I had racked my brains to bring about this state of things. But,strange to say, now I had succeeded, I found it less satisfactory thanI had hoped. I had reduced the odds and got rid of my most dangerousantagonists; but Antoine, left to himself, proved to be as full ofsuspicion as an egg of meat. He rode a little behind me with his gunacross his saddle-bow, and a pistol near his hand, and at theslightest pause on my part, or if I turned to look at him, he mutteredhis constant "Forward, Monsieur!" in a tone that warned me that hisfinger was on the trigger. At such a distance he could not miss; and Isaw nothing for it but to go on meekly before him--to the Roca Blancaand my fate.
What was to be done? The road presently reached the end of the valleyand entered a narrow pine-clad defile, strewn with rocks and boulders,over which the torrent plunged and eddied with a deafening roar. Infront the white gleam of waterfalls broke the sombre ranks of climbingtrunks. The snow-line lay less than half a mile away on either hand;and crowning all--at the end of the pass, as it seemed to theeye--rose the pure white pillar of the Pic du Midi shooting up sixthousand feet into the blue of heaven. Such a scene, so suddenlydisclosed, was enough to drive the sense of danger from my mind; andfor a moment I reined in my horse. But "Forward, Monsieur!" came thegrating order. I fell to earth again, and went on. What was to bedone?
I was at my wit's end to know. The man refused to talk, refused toride abreast of me, would have no dismounting, no halting, nocommunication; at all. He would have nothing but this silent, lonelyprocession of two, with the muzzle of his gun at my back. Andmeanwhile we were fast climbing the pass. We had left the others anhour--nearly two. The sun was declining; the time, I supposed, abouthalf-past three.
If he would only let me come within reach of him! Or if anything wouldfall out to take his attention! When the pass presently widened into abare and dreary valley, strewn with huge boulders, and with snow lyinghere and there in the hollows, I looked desperately before me, andscanned even the vast snow-fields that overhung us and stretched awayto the base of the ice-peak. But I saw nothing. No bear swung acrossthe path, no izard showed itself on the cliffs. The keen sharp air cutour cheeks and warned me that we were approaching the summit of theridge. On all sides were silence and desolation.
_Mon Dieu!_ And the ruffians on whose tender mercies I was to bethrown might come to meet us! They might appear at any moment. In mydespair I loosened my hat on my head, and let the first gust carry itto the ground, and then with an oath of annoyance tossed my feet looseto go after it. But the rascal roared to me to keep my seat.
"Forward, Monsieur!" he shouted brutally. "Go on!"
"But my hat!" I cried. "_Mille tonnerres_, man! I must--"
"Forward, Monsieur, or I shoot!" he replied inexorably, raising hisgun. "One--two--"
And I went on. But, oh, I was wrathful! That I, Gil de Berault, shouldbe outwitted and led by the nose, like a ringed bull, by this Gasconlout! That I, whom all Paris knew and feared--if it did not love--theterror of Zaton's, should come to my end in this dismal waste of snowand rock, done to death by some pitiful smuggler or thief! It must notbe! Surely in the last resort I could give an account of one man,though his belt were stuffed with pistols!
But how? Only, it seemed, by open force. My heart began to flutter asI planned it; and then grew steady again. A hundred paces before us agully or ravine on the left ran up into the snow-field. Opposite itsmouth a jumble of stones and broken rocks covered the path. I markedthis for the place. The knave would need both his hands to hold up hisnag over the stones, and, if I turned on him suddenly enough, he mighteither drop his gun, or fire it harmlessly.
But, in the meantime, something happened; as, at the last moment,things do happen. While we were still fifty yards short of the place,I found his horse's nose creeping forward on a level with my crupper;and, still advancing, until I could see it out of the tail of my eye,and my heart gave a great bound. He was coming abreast of me: he wasgoing to deliver himself into my hands! To cover my excitement, Ibegan to whistle.
"Hush!" he muttered fiercely: his voice sounding strange andunnatural. My first thought was that he was ill, and I turned to him.But he only said again, "Hush! Pass by here quietly, Monsieur."
"Why?" I asked mutinously, curiosity getting the better of me. For hadI been wise I had taken no notice; every second his horse was comingup with mine. Its nose was level with my stirrup already.
"Hush, man!" he said again. This time there was no mistake about thepanic in his voice. "They call this the Devil's Chapel. God send ussafe by it! It is late to be here. Look at those!" he continued,pointing with a finger which visibly shook.
I looked. At the mouth of the gully, in a small space partly clearedof stones stood three broken shafts, raised on rude pedestals. "Well?"I said in a low voice. The sun which was near setting flushed thegreat peak above to the colour of blood; but the valley was growinggrey and each moment more dreary. "Well, what of those?" I said. Inspite of my peril and the excitement of the coming struggle I felt thechill of his fear. Never had I seen so grim, so desolate, soGodforsaken a place! Involuntarily I shivered.
"They were crosses," he muttered, in a voice little above a whisper,while his eyes roved this way and that in terror. "The Cure of Gabasblessed the place, and set them up. But n
ext morning they were as yousee them now. Come on, Monsieur, come on!" he continued, plucking atmy arm. "It is not safe here after sunset. Pray God, Satan be not athome!"
He had completely forgotten in his panic that he had anything to fearfrom me. His gun dropped loosely across his saddle, his leg rubbedmine. I saw this, and I changed my plan of action. As our horsesreached the stones I stooped, as if to encourage mine, and by a suddenclutch snatched the gun bodily from his hand; at the same time Ibacked my horse with all my strength. It was done in a moment! Asecond and I had him at the end of the gun, and my finger was on thetrigger. Never was victory more easily gained.
He looked at me between rage and terror, his jaw fallen. "Are youmad?" he cried, his teeth chattering as he spoke. Even in this straithis eyes left me and wandered round in alarm.
"No, sane!" I retorted fiercely. "But I do not like this place anybetter than you do!" Which was true enough, if not quite true. "So, byyour right, quick march!" I continued imperatively. "Turn your horse,my friend, or take the consequences."
He turned like a lamb, and headed down the valley again, withoutgiving a thought to his pistols. I kept close to him, and in less thana minute we had left the Devil's Chapel well behind us, and weremoving down again as we had come up. Only now I held the gun.
When we had gone half a mile or so--until then I did not feelcomfortable myself, and though I thanked Heaven the place existed,thanked Heaven also that I was out of it--I bade him halt. "Take offyour belt!" I said curtly, "and throw it down. But, mark me, if youturn, I fire!"
The spirit was quite gone out of him. He obeyed mechanically. I jumpeddown, still covering him with the gun, and picked up the belt, pistolsand all. Then I remounted, and we went on. By-and-bye he asked mesullenly what I was going to do.
"Go back," I said, "and take the road to Auch when I come to it."
"It will be dark in an hour," he answered sulkily.
"I know that," I retorted. "We must camp and do the best we can."
And as I said, we did. The daylight held until we gained the skirts ofthe pine-wood at the head of the pass. Here I chose a corner a littleoff the track, and well-sheltered from the wind, and bade him light afire. I tethered the horses near this and within sight. It remainedonly to sup. I had a piece of bread; he had another and an onion. Weate in silence, sitting on opposite sides of the fire.
But after supper I found myself in a dilemma; I did not see how I wasto sleep. The ruddy light which gleamed on the knave's swart face andsinewy hands showed also his eyes, black, sullen, and watchful. I knewthat the man was plotting revenge; that he would not hesitate to planthis knife between my ribs should I give him a chance. I could findonly one alternative to remaining awake. Had I been bloody-minded, Ishould have chosen it and solved the question at once and in my favourby shooting him as he sat.
But I have never been a cruel man, and I could not find it in my heartto do this. The silence of the mountain and the sky--which seemed athing apart from the roar of the torrent and not to be broken byit--awed me. The vastness of the solitude in which we sat, the darkvoid above through which the stars kept shooting, the black gulf belowin which the unseen waters boiled and surged, the absence of otherhuman company or other signs of human existence put such a face uponthe deed that I gave up the thought of it with a shudder, and resignedmyself, instead, to watch through the night--the long, cold, Pyreneannight. Presently he curled himself up like a dog and slept in theblaze, and then for a couple of hours I sat opposite him, thinking. Itseemed years since I had seen Zaton's or thrown the dice. The oldlife, the old employments--should I ever go back to them?--seemed dimand distant. Would Cocheforet, the forest and the mountain, the greyChateau and its mistresses, seem one day as dim! And if one bit oflife could fade so quickly at the unrolling of another, and seem in amoment pale and colourless, would all life some day and somewhere, andall the things we--But faugh! I was growing foolish. I sprang up andkicked the wood together, and, taking up the gun, began to pace to andfro under the cliff. Strange that a little moonlight, a few stars, abreath of solitude should carry a man back to childhood and childishthings!
* * * * *
It was three in the afternoon of the next day, and the sun lay hot onthe oak groves, and the air was full of warmth as we began to climbthe slope, on which the road to Auch shoots out of the track. Theyellow bracken and the fallen leaves underfoot seemed to throw uplight of themselves, and here and there a patch of ruddy beech laylike a bloodstain on the hillside. In front a herd of pigs routedamong the mast, and grunted lazily; and high above us a boy laywatching them. "We part here," I said to my companion. It was my planto ride a little way on the road to Auch so as to blind his eyes;then, leaving my horse in the forest, I would go on foot to theChateau.
"The sooner the better!" he answered, with a snarl. "And I hope I maynever see your face again, Monsieur!"
But when we came to the wooden cross at the fork of the roads, andwere about to part, the boy we had seen leapt out of the fern and cameto meet us. "Hollo!" he cried, in a sing-song tone.
"Well!" my companion answered, drawing rein impatiently. "What is it?"
"There are soldiers in the village."
"Soldiers?" Antoine cried incredulously.
"Ay, devils on horseback!" the lad answered, spitting on the ground."Three score of them! From Auch!"
Antoine turned to me, his face transformed with fury. "Curse you!" hecried. "This is some of your work! Now we are all undone! And mymistresses! _Sacre!_ if I had that gun I would shoot you like a rat!"
"Steady, fool!" I answered roughly. "I know no more of this than youdo!"
This was so true that my surprise was as great as his. The Cardinal,who rarely made a change of front, had sent me hither that he mightnot be forced to send soldiers, and run the risk of all that mightarise from such a movement. What of this invasion, then, than whichnothing could be less consistent with his plans? I wondered. It waspossible, of course, that the travelling merchants, before whom I hadplayed at treason, had reported the facts; and that on this theCommandant at Auch had acted. But it seemed unlikely. He had had hisorders, too; and, under the Cardinal's rule, there was small place forindividual enterprise. I could not understand it.
One thing was clear, however. I might now enter the village as Ipleased. "I am going on to look into this," I said to Antoine. "Come,my man."
He shrugged his shoulders, and stood still. "Not I!" he answered, withan oath. "No soldiers for me! I have lain out one night, and I can lieout another!"
I nodded indifferently, for I no longer wanted him; and we parted.After this, twenty minutes' riding brought me to the entrance of thevillage; and here the change was great indeed. Not one of the ordinarydwellers in the place was to be seen: either they had shut themselvesup in their hovels, or, like Antoine, they had fled to the woods.Their doors were closed, their windows shuttered. But lounging aboutthe street were a score of dragoons, in boots and breastplates, whoseshort-barrelled muskets, with pouches and bandoliers attached, werepiled near the inn door. In an open space where there was a gap in thestreet, a long row of horses, linked head to head, stood bending theirmuzzles over bundles of rough forage, and on all sides the cheerfuljingle of chains and bridles and the sound of coarse jokes andlaughter filled the air.
As I rode up to the inn door an old sergeant, with squinting eyes andhis tongue in his cheeks, eyed me inquisitively, and started to crossthe street to challenge me. Fortunately, at that moment the two knaveswhom I had brought from Paris with me, and whom I had left at Auch toawait my orders, came up. I made them a sign not to speak to me, andthey passed on; but I suppose that they told the sergeant that I wasnot the man he wanted, for I saw no more of him.
After picketing my horse behind the inn--I could find no betterstable, every place being full--I pushed my way through the group atthe door, and entered. The old room, with the low grimy roof and thereeking floor, was half full of strange figures, and for a few minutesI stood unse
en in the smoke and confusion. Then the landlord came myway, and as he passed me I caught his eye. He uttered a low curse,dropped the pitcher he was carrying, and stood glaring at me, like aman possessed.
The soldier whose wine he was carrying flung a crust in his face,with, "Now, greasy fingers! What are you staring at?"
"The devil!" the landlord muttered, beginning to tremble.
"Then let me look at him!" the man retorted and he turned on hisstool.
He started, finding me standing over him. "At your service!" I saidgrimly. "A little time and it will be the other way, my friend."
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 6