Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  THE FLIGHT FROM ANGERS.

  But that only the more roused the devil in the man; that, and theknowledge that he had his own headstrong act to thank for theposition. He looked on the panic-stricken people who, scared by theturmoil without, had come together in the courtyard, wringing theirhands and chattering; and his face was so dark and forbidding thatfear of him took the place of all other fear, and the nearest shrankfrom contact with him. On any other entering as he had entered, theywould have hailed questions; they would have asked what was amiss andif the city were rising, and where were Bigot and his men. But CountHannibal's eye struck curiosity dumb. When he cried from his saddle,"Bring me the landlord!" the trembling man was found, and brought, andthrust forward almost without a word.

  "You have a back gate?" Tavannes said, while the crowd leaned forwardto catch his words.

  "Yes, my lord," the man faltered.

  "Into the street which leads to the ramparts?"

  "Ye--yes, my lord."

  "Then"--to Badelon--"saddle! You have five minutes. Saddle as younever saddled before," he continued in a low tone, "or----" His tonguedid not finish the threat, but his hand waved the man away. "For you,"he held Tignonville an instant with his lowering eye, "and thepreaching fool with you, get arms and mount! You have never playedaught but the woman yet; but play me false now, or look aside but afoot from the path I bid you take, and you thwart me no more,monsieur! And you, madame," he continued, turning to the Countess, whostood bewildered at one of the doors, the Provost's daughter clingingand weeping about her, "you have three minutes to get your women tohorse! See you, if you please, that they take no longer!"

  She found her voice with difficulty. "And this child?" she said. "Sheis in my care."

  "Bring her," he muttered with a scowl of impatience. And then, raisinghis voice as he turned on the terrified gang of hostlers and innservants who stood gaping round him, "Go help!" he thundered. "Gohelp! And quickly!" he added, his face growing a shade darker as asecond bell began to toll from a neighbouring tower, and the confusedbabel in the Place Ste.-Croix settled into a dull roar of"_Sacrilege_! _sacrilege!_"--"Hasten!"

  Fortunately it had been his first intention to go to the Councilattended by the whole of his troop; and eight horses stood saddled inthe stalls. Others were hastily pulled out and bridled, and the womenwere mounted. La Tribe, at a look from Tavannes, took behind him theProvost's daughter, who was helpless with terror. Between thesuddenness of the alarm, the uproar without, and the panic within,none but a man whose people served him at a nod and dreaded his verygesture could have got his party mounted in time. Javette would fainhave swooned, but she dared not. Tignonville would fain havequestioned, but he shrank from the venture. The Countess would fainhave said something, but she forced herself to obey and no more. Evenso the confusion in the courtyard, the mingling of horses and men andtrappings and saddle-bags, would have made another despair; butwherever Count Hannibal, seated in his saddle in the middle, turnedhis face, chaos settled into a kind of order, servants, ceasing tolisten to the yells and cries outside, ran to fetch, women droppedcloaks from the gallery, and men loaded muskets and strapped onbandoliers.

  Until at last--but none knew what those minutes of suspense costhim--he saw all mounted, and, pistol in hand, shepherded them to theback gates. As he did so he stooped for a few scowling words withBadelon, whom he sent to the van of the party: then he gave the wordto open. It was done; and even as Montsoreau's horsemen, borne on thebosom of a second and more formidable throng, swept raging into thealready crowded square, and the cry went up for "a ram! a ram!" tobatter in the gates, Tavannes, hurling his little party before him,dashed out at the back, and putting to flight a handful of rascals whohad wandered to that side, cantered unmolested down the lane to theramparts. Turning eastward at the foot of the frowning Castle, hefollowed the inner side of the wall in the direction of the gate bywhich he had entered the preceding evening.

  To gain this his party had to pass the end of the Rue Toussaint, whichissues from the Place Ste.-Croix and runs so straight that the mobseething in front of the inn had only to turn their heads to see them.The danger incurred at this point was great; for a party as small asTavannes' and encumbered with women would have had no chance ifattacked within the walls.

  Count Hannibal knew it. But he knew also that the act which he hadcommitted rendered the north bank of the Loire impossible for him.Neither King nor Marshal, neither Charles of Valois nor Gaspard ofTavannes, would dare to shield him from an infuriated Church, a Churchtoo wise to forgive certain offences. His one chance lay in reachingthe southern bank of the Loire--roughly speaking, the Huguenotbank--and taking refuge in some town, Rochelle or St. Jean d'Angely,where the Huguenots were strong, and whence he might take steps to sethimself right with his own side.

  But to cross the great river which divides France into two landswidely differing he must leave the city by the east gate; for the onlybridge over the Loire within forty miles of Angers lay eastward fromthe town, at Ponts de Ce, four miles away. To this gate, therefore,past the Rue Toussaint, he whirled his party daringly; and though thewomen grew pale as the sounds of riot broke louder on the ear, andthey discovered that they were approaching instead of leaving thedanger--and though Tignonville for an instant thought him mad, andsnatched at the Countess's rein--his men-at-arms, who knew him,galloped stolidly on, passed like clockwork the end of the street,and, reckless of the stream of persons hurrying in the direction ofthe alarm, heedless of the fright and anger their passage excited,pressed steadily on. A moment and the gate through which they hadentered the previous evening appeared before them. And--a sightwelcome to one of them--it was open.

  They were fortunate indeed, for a few seconds later they had been toolate. The alarm had preceded them; as they dashed up, a man ran to thechains of the portcullis and tried to lower it. He failed to do so atthe first touch, and quailing, fled from Badelon's levelled pistol. Awatchman on one of the bastions of the wall shouted to them to halt orhe would fire: but the riders yelled in derision, and thunderingthrough the echoing archway, emerged into the open, and saw, extendedbefore them, in place of the gloomy vistas of the Black Town, theglory of the open country and the vine-clad hills, and the fieldsabout the Loire yellow with late harvest.

  The women gasped their relief, and one or two who were most out ofbreath would have pulled up their horses and let them trot, thinkingthe danger at an end. But a curt savage word from the rear set themflying again, and down and up and on again they galloped, drivenforward by the iron hand which never relaxed its grip of them. Silentand pitiless he whirled them before him until they were within a mileof the long Ponts de Ce--a series of bridges rather than onebridge--and the broad shallow Loire lay plain before them, itssandbanks grilling in the sun, and grey lines of willows marking itseyots. By this time some of the women, white with fatigue, could onlycling to their saddles with their hands; while others were red-hot,their hair unrolled, and the perspiration mingled with the dust ontheir faces. But he who drove them had no pity for weakness in anemergency. He looked back and saw, a half-mile behind them, theglitter of steel following hard on their heels: and "Faster! faster!"he cried, regardless of their prayers: and he beat the rearmost of thehorses with his scabbard. A waiting-woman shrieked that she shouldfall, but he answered ruthlessly, "Fall then, fool!" and the instinctof self-preservation coming to her aid, she clung and bumped andtoiled on with the rest until they reached the first houses of thetown about the bridges, and Badelon raised his hand as a signal thatthey might slacken speed.

  The bewilderment of the start had been so great that it was then only,when they found their feet on the first link of the bridge, that twoof the party, the Countess and Tignonville, awoke to the fact thattheir faces were set southwards. To cross the Loire in those daysmeant much to all: to a Huguenot very much. It chanced that these tworode on to the bridge side by side, and the memory of their lastcrossing--t
he remembrance that, on their journey north a month before,they had crossed it hand-in-hand with the prospect of passing theirlives together, and with no faintest thought of the events which wereto ensue, flashed into the mind of each of them. It deepened the flushwhich exertion had brought to the woman's cheek, then left it palerthan before. A minute earlier she had been wroth with her old lover;she had held him accountable for the outbreak in the town and thishasty retreat; now her anger died as she looked and she remembered. Inthe man, shallower of feeling and more alive to present contingencies,the uppermost emotion as he trod the bridge was one of surprise andcongratulation.

  He could not at first believe in their good fortune. "_Mon Dieu!_" hecried, "we are crossing!" And then again in a lower tone, "We arecrossing! We are crossing!" And he looked at her.

  It was impossible that she should not look back; that she who hadceased to be angry should not feel and remember; impossible that heranswering glance should not speak to his heart. Below them, as on thatday a month earlier, when they had crossed the bridges goingnorthward, the broad shallow river ran its course in the sunshine,its turbid currents gleaming and flashing about the sandbanks andosier-beds. To the eye, the landscape, save that the vintage wasfarther advanced and the harvest in part gathered in, was the same.But how changed were their relations, their prospects, their hopes,who had then crossed the river hand-in-hand, planning a life to bepassed together.

  The young man's rage boiled up at the thought. Too vividly, toosharply it showed him the wrongs which he had suffered at the hands ofthe man who rode behind him, the man who even now drove him on andordered him and insulted him. He forgot that he might have perished inthe general massacre if Count Hannibal had not intervened. He forgotthat Count Hannibal had spared him once and twice. He laid on hisenemy's shoulders the guilt of all, the blood of all: and as, quick onthe thought of his wrongs and his fellows' wrongs followed thereflection that with every league they rode southwards the chance ofrequital grew, he cried again, and this time joyously, "We arecrossing! A little, and we shall be in our own land!"

  The tears filled the Countess's eyes as she looked westwards andsouthwards. "Vrillac is there!" she cried; and she pointed. "I smellthe sea!"

  "Ay!" he answered, almost under his breath. "It lies there! And nomore than thirty leagues from us! With fresh horses we might see it intwo days!"

  Badelon's voice broke in on them. "Forward!" he cried as they reachedthe southern bank. "_En avant!_" And, obedient to the word, the littleparty, refreshed by the short respite, took the road out of Ponts deCe at a steady trot. Nor was the Countess the only one whose faceglowed, being set southwards, or whose heart pulsed to the rhythm ofthe horses' hoofs that beat out "Home!" Carlat's and Madame Carlat'salso. Javette even, hearing from her neighbour that they were over theLoire, plucked up courage; while La Tribe, gazing before him withmoistened eyes, cried "Comfort" to the scared and weeping girl whoclung to his belt. It was singular to see how all sniffed the air asif already it smacked of the sea and of the south; and how they ofPoitou sat their horses as if they asked nothing better than to rideon and on and on until the scenes of home arose about them. For themthe sky had already a deeper blue, the air a softer fragrance, thesunshine a purity long unknown!

  Was it wonderful, when they had suffered so much on that northernbank? When their experience during the month had been comparable onlywith the direst nightmare? Yet one among them, after the first impulseof relief and satisfaction, felt differently. Tignonville's gorge roseagainst the sense of compulsion, of inferiority. To be driven forwardafter this fashion, whether he would or no, to be placed at the beckof every base-born man-at-arms, to have no clearer knowledge of whathad happened or of what was passing, or of the peril from which theyfled, than the women among whom he rode--these things kindled anew thesullen fire of hate. North of the Loire there had been some excuse forhis inaction under insult; he had been in the man's country and power.But south of the Loire, within forty leagues of Huguenot Niort, musthe still suffer, still be supine?

  His rage was inflamed by a disappointment he presently underwent.Looking back as they rode clear of the wooden houses of Ponts de Ce,he missed Tavannes and several of his men; and he wondered if CountHannibal had remained on his own side of the river. It seemedpossible; and in that event La Tribe and he and Carlat might deal withBadelon and the four who still escorted them. But when he looked backa minute later, Tavannes was within sight, following the party with astern face; and not Tavannes only. Bigot, with two of the ten men whohitherto had been missing, was with him.

  It was clear, however, that they brought no good news, for they hadscarcely ridden up before Count Hannibal cried "Faster! faster!" inhis harshest voice, and Bigot urged the horses to a quicker trot.Their course lay almost parallel with the Loire in the direction ofBeaupreau; and Tignonville began to fear that Count Hannibal intendedto recross the river at Nantes, where the only bridge below Angersspanned the stream. With this in view it was easy to comprehend hiswish to distance his pursuers before he recrossed.

  The Countess had no such thought. "They must be close upon us!" shemurmured, as she urged her horse in obedience to the order.

  "Whoever they are!" Tignonville muttered bitterly. "If we knew whathad happened, or who followed, we should know more about it, madame.For that matter, I know what I wish he would do. And our heads are setfor it."

  "What?"

  "Make for Vrillac!" he answered, a savage gleam in his eyes.

  "For Vrillac?"

  "Yes."

  "Ah, if he would!" she cried, her face turning pale. "If he would. Hewould be safe there!"

  "Ay, quite safe!" he answered with a peculiar intonation. And helooked at her askance.

  He fancied that his thought, the thought which had just flashed intohis brain, was her thought; that she had the same notion in reserve,and that they were in sympathy. And Tavannes, seeing them talkingtogether, and noting her look and the fervour of her gesture, formedthe same opinion, and retired more darkly into himself. The downfallof his plan for dazzling her by a magnanimity unparalleled and beyondcompare, a plan dependent on the submission of Angers--hisdisappointment in this might have roused the worst passions of abetter man. But there was in this man a pride on a level at least withhis other passions: and to bear himself in this hour of defeat andflight so that if she could not love him she must admire him, checkedin a strange degree the current of his rage. When Tignonvillepresently looked back he found that Count Hannibal and six of hisriders had pulled up and were walking their horses far in the rear. Onwhich he would have done the same himself; but Badelon called over hisshoulder the eternal "Forward, monsieur, _en avant!_" and sullenly,hating the man and his master more deeply every hour, Tignonville wasforced to push on, with thoughts of vengeance in his heart.

  Trot, trot! Trot, trot! Through a country which had lost its smilingwooded character and grew more sombre and less fertile the fartherthey left the Loire behind them. Trot, trot! Trot, trot!--for ever, itseemed to some. Javette wept with fatigue, and the other women werelittle better. The Countess herself spoke seldom except to cheer theProvost's daughter; who, poor girl, flung suddenly out of the round ofher life and cast among strangers, showed a better spirit than mighthave been expected. At length, on the slopes of some low hills, whichthey had long seen before them, a cluster of houses and a churchappeared; and Badelon, drawing rein, cried, "Beaupreau, madame! Westay an hour!"

  It was six o'clock. They had ridden some hours without a break. Withsighs and cries of pain the women dropped from their clumsy saddles,while the men laid out such food--it was little--as had been brought,and hobbled the horses that they might feed. The hour passed rapidly,and when it had passed Badelon was inexorable. There was wailing whenhe gave the word to mount again; and Tignonville, fiercely resentingthis dumb, reasonless flight, was at heart one of the mutineers. ButBadelon said grimly that they might go on and live, or stay and die,as it pleased them; and once more they climbed painfully to theirsaddles, and jogged ste
adily on through the sunset, through thegloaming, through the darkness, across a weird, mysterious country oflow hills and narrow plains which grew more wild and less cultivatedas they advanced. Fortunately the horses had been well saved duringthe long leisurely journey to Angers, and now went well and strongly.When they at last unsaddled for the night in a little dismal woodwithin a mile of Clisson, they had placed some forty miles betweenthemselves and Angers.