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

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER II.

  THE KING OF NAVARRE.

  I have already referred to the danger with which the alliance betweenHenry the Third and the League menaced us, an alliance whereof thenews, it was said, had blanched the King of Navarre's moustache in asingle night. Notwithstanding this, the Court had never shown itselfmore frolicsome or more free from care than at the time of which I amspeaking; even the lack of money seemed for the moment forgotten. Oneamusement followed another, and though, without doubt, something wasdoing under the surface--for the wiser of his foes held our prince inparticular dread when he seemed most deeply sunk in pleasure--to theoutward eye St. Jean d'Angely appeared to be given over to enjoymentfrom one end to the other.

  The stir and bustle of the Court reached me even in my garret, andcontributed to make that Christmas, which fell on a Sunday, a trialalmost beyond sufferance. All day long the rattle of hoofs on thepavement, and the laughter of riders bent on diversion, came up to me,making the hard stool seem harder, the bare walls more bare, andincreasing a hundredfold the solitary gloom in which I sat. For assunshine deepens the shadows which fall athwart it, and no silence islike that which follows the explosion of a mine, so sadness andpoverty are never more intolerable than when hope and wealth rubelbows with them.

  True, the great sermon which M. d'Amours preached in the market-houseon the morning of Christmas-day cheered me, as it cheered all the moresober spirits. I was present myself, sitting in an obscure corner ofthe building, and heard the famous prediction, which was so soon to befulfilled. 'Sire,' said the preacher, turning to the King, of Navarre,and referring, with the boldness that ever characterised that greatman and noble Christian, to the attempt then being made to exclude theprince from the succession--'Sire, what God at your birth gave you mancannot take away. A little while, a little patience, and you shallcause us to preach beyond the Loire! With you for our Joshua we shallcross the Jordan, and in the Promised Land the Church shall be setup.'

  Words so brave, and so well adapted to encourage the Huguenots in thecrisis through which their affairs were then passing, charmed allhearers; save indeed, those--and they were few--who, being devoted tothe Vicomte de Turenne, disliked, though they could not controvert,this public acknowledgment of the King of Navarre as the Huguenotleader. The pleasure of those present was evinced in a hundred ways,and to such an extent that even I returned to my chamber soothed andexalted, and found, in dreaming of the speedy triumph of the cause,some compensation for my own ill-fortune.

  As the day wore on, however, and the evening brought no change, butpresented to me the same dreary prospect with which morning had mademe familiar, I confess without shame that my heart sank once more,particularly as I saw that I should be forced in a day or two to selleither my remaining horse or some part of my equipment as essential; astep which I could not contemplate without feelings of the utmostdespair. In this state of mind I was adding up by the light of asolitary candle the few coins I had left, when I heard footstepsascending the stairs. I made them out to be the steps of two persons,and was still lost in conjectures who they might be, when a handknocked gently at my door.

  Fearing another trick, I did not at once open, the more as there wassomething stealthy and insinuating in the knock. Thereupon my visitorsheld a whispered consultation; then they, knocked again. I askedloudly who was there, but to this they did not choose to give anyanswer, while I, on my part, determined not to open until they did.The door was strong, and I smiled grimly at the thought that this timethey would have their trouble for their pains.

  To my surprise, however, they did not desist, and go away, as Iexpected, but continued to knock at intervals and whisper much betweentimes. More than once they called me softly by name and bade me open,but as they steadily refrained from saying who they were, I sat still.Occasionally I heard them laugh, but under their breath as it were;and persuaded by this that they were bent on a frolic, I might havepersisted in my silence until midnight, which was not more than twohours off, had not a slight sound, as of a rat gnawing behind thewainscot, drawn my attention to the door. Raising my candle andshading my eyes I espied something small and bright protruding beneathit, and sprang up, thinking they were about to prise it in. To mysurprise, however, I could discover, on taking the candle to thethreshold, nothing more threatening than a couple of gold livres,which had been thrust through the crevice between the door and thefloor.

  My astonishment may be conceived. I stood for full a minute staring atthe coins, the candle in my hand. Then, reflecting that the youngsparks at the Court would be very unlikely to spend such a sum on ajest, I hesitated no longer, but putting down the candle, drew thebolt of the door, purposing to confer with my visitors outside. Inthis, however, I was disappointed, for the moment the door was openthey pushed forcibly past me and, entering the room pell-mell, bade meby signs to close the door again.

  I did so suspiciously, and without averting my eyes from my visitors.Great were my embarrassment and confusion, therefore, when, the doorbeing shut, they dropped their cloaks one after the other, and I sawbefore me M. du Mornay and the well-known figure of the King ofNavarre.

  They seemed so much diverted, looking at one another and laughing,that for a moment I thought some chance resemblance deceived me, andthat here were my jokers again. Hence while a man might count ten Istood staring; and the king was the first to speak. 'We have made nomistake, Du Mornay, have we?' he said, casting a laughing glance atme.

  'No, sire,' Du Mornay answered. 'This is the Sieur de Marsac, thegentleman whom I mentioned to you.'

  I hastened, confused, wondering, and with a hundred apologies, to paymy respects to the king. He speedily cut me short, however, saying,with an air of much kindness, 'Of Marsac, in Brittany, I think, sir?'

  'The same, sire.'

  'Then you are of the family of Bonne?'

  'I am the last survivor of that family, sire,' I answeredrespectfully.

  'It has played its part,' he rejoined. And therewith he took his seaton my stool with an easy grace which charmed me. 'Your motto is"_Bonne foi_," is it not? And Marsac, if I remember rightly, is notfar from Rennes, on the Vilaine?'

  I answered that it Was, adding, with a full heart, that it grieved meto be compelled to receive so great a prince in so poor a lodging.

  'Well, I confess,' Du Mornay struck in, looking carelessly round him,'you have a queer taste, M. de Marsac, in the arrangement of yourfurniture. You--'

  'Mornay!' the king cried sharply.

  'Sire?'

  'Chut! your elbow is in the candle. Beware of it!'

  But I well understood him. If my heart had been full before, itoverflowed now. Poverty is not so shameful as the shifts to which itdrives men. I had been compelled some days before, in order to make asgood a show as possible--since it is the undoubted duty of a gentlemanto hide his nakedness from impertinent eyes, and especially from theeyes of the _canaille_, who are wont to judge from externals--toremove such of my furniture and equipage as remained to that side ofthe room, which was visible from without when the door was open. Thisleft the farther side of the room vacant and bare. To anyone withindoors the artifice was, of course, apparent, and I am bound to saythat M. du Mornay's words brought the blood to my brow.

  I rejoiced, however, a moment later that he had uttered them; forwithout them I might never have known, or known so early, the kindnessof heart and singular quickness of apprehension which everdistinguished the king, my master. So, in my heart, I began to callhim from that hour.

  The King of Navarre was at this time thirty-five years old, his hairbrown, his complexion ruddy, his moustache, on one side at least,beginning to turn grey. His features, which Nature had cast in a harshand imperious mould, were relieved by a constant sparkle and animationsuch as I have never seen in any other man, but in him became evermore conspicuous in gloomy and perilous times. Inured to danger fromhis earliest youth, he had come to enjoy it as others a festival,hailing its advent with
a reckless gaiety which astonished even bravemen, and led others to think him the least prudent of mankind. Yetsuch he was not: nay, he was the opposite of this. Never did Marshalof France make more careful dispositions for a battle--albeit once init he bore himself like any captain of horse--nor ever did Du Mornayhimself sit down to a conference with a more accurate knowledge ofaffairs. His prodigious wit and the affability of his manners, whilethey endeared him to his servants, again and again blinded hisadversaries; who, thinking that so much brilliance could arise onlyfrom a shallow nature, found when it was too late that they had beenoutwitted by him whom they contemptuously styled the Prince of Bearn,a man a hundredfold more astute than themselves, and master alike ofpen and sword.

  Much of this, which all the world now knows, I learned afterwards. Atthe moment I could think of little save the king's kindness; to whichhe added by insisting that I should sit on the bed while we talked.'You wonder, M. de Marsac,' he said, 'what brings me here, and why Ihave come to you instead of sending for you? Still more, perhaps, whyI have come to you at night and with such precautions? I will tellyou. But first, that my coming may not fill you with false hopes, letme say frankly, that though I may relieve your present necessities,whether you fall into the plan I am going to mention, or not, I cannottake you into my service; wherein, indeed, every post is doublyfilled. Du Mornay mentioned your name to me, but in fairness to othersI had to answer that I could do nothing.'

  I am bound to confess that this strange exordium dashed hopes whichhad already risen to a high pitch. Recovering myself as quickly aspossible, however, I murmured that the honour of a visit from the Kingof Navarre was sufficient happiness for me.

  'Nay, but that honour I must take from you' he replied, smiling;'though I see that you would make an excellent courtier--far betterthan Du Mornay here, who never in his life made so pretty a speech.For I must lay my commands on you to keep this visit a secret, M. deMarsac. Should but the slightest whisper of it get abroad, yourusefulness, as far as I am concerned, would be gone, and gone forgood!'

  So remarkable a statement filled me with wonder I could scarcelydisguise. It was with difficulty I found words to assure the king thathis commands should be faithfully obeyed.

  'Of that I am sure,' he answered with the utmost kindness. 'Were Inot, and sure, too, from what I am told of your gallantry when mycousin took Brouage, that you are a man of deeds rather than words, Ishould not be here with the proposition I am going to lay before you.It is this. I can give you no hope of public employment, M. de Marsac,but I can offer you an adventure--if adventures be to your taste--asdangerous and as thankless as any Amadis ever undertook.'

  'As thankless, sire?' I stammered, doubting if I had heard aright, theexpression was so strange.

  'As thankless,' he answered, his keen eyes seeming to read my soul. 'Iam frank with you, you see, sir,' he continued, carelessly. 'I cansuggest this adventure--it is for the good of the State--I can do nomore. The King of Navarre cannot appear in it, nor can he protect you.Succeed or fail in it, you stand alone. The only promise I make is,that if it ever be safe for me to acknowledge the act, I will rewardthe doer.'

  He paused, and for a few moments I stared at him in sheer amazement.What did he mean? Were he and the other real figures, or was Idreaming?

  'Do you understand?' he asked at length, with a touch of impatience.

  'Yes, sire, I think I do,' I murmured, very certain in truth andreality that I did not.

  'What do you say, then--yes or no?' he rejoined. 'Will you undertakethe adventure, or would you hear more before you make up your mind?'

  I hesitated. Had I been a younger man by ten years I should doubtlesshave cried assent there and then, having been all my life ready enoughto embark on such enterprises as offered a chance of distinction. Butsomething in the strangeness of the king's preface, although I had itin my heart to die for him, gave me check, and I answered, with an airof great humility, 'You will think me but a poor courtier now, sire,yet he is a fool who jumps into a ditch without measuring the depth. Iwould fain, if I may say it without disrespect, hear all that you cantell me.'

  'Then I fear,' he answered quickly, 'if you would have more light onthe matter, my friend, you must get another candle.'

  I started, he spoke so abruptly; but perceiving that the candle hadindeed burned down to the socket, I rose, with many apologies, andfetched another from the cupboard. It did not occur to me at themoment, though it did later, that the king had purposely sought thisopportunity of consulting with his companion. I merely remarked, whenI returned to my place on the bed, that they were sitting a littlenearer one another, and that the king eyed me before he spoke--thoughhe still swung one foot carelessly in the air--with close attention.

  'I speak to you, of course, sir,' he presently went on, 'inconfidence, believing you to be an honourable as well as a brave man.That which I wish you to do is briefly, and in a word, to carry off alady. Nay,' he added quickly, with a laughing grimace, 'have no fear!She is no sweetheart of mine, nor should I go to my grave friend heredid I need assistance of that kind. Henry of Bourbon, I pray God, willalways be able to free his own lady-love. This is a State affair, anda matter of quite another character, though we cannot at presententrust you with the meaning of it.'

  I bowed in silence, feeling somewhat chilled and perplexed, as whowould not, having such an invitation before him? I had anticipated anaffair with men only--a secret assault or a petard expedition. Butseeing the bareness of my room, and the honour the king was doing me,I felt I had no choice, and I answered, 'That being the case, sire, Iam wholly at your service.'

  'That is well,' he answered briskly, though methought he looked at DuMornay reproachfully, as doubting his commendation of me. 'But willyou say the same,' he continued, removing his eyes to me, and speakingslowly, as though he would try me, 'when I tell you that the lady tobe carried off is the ward of the Vicomte de Turenne, whose arm iswell-nigh as long as my own, and who would fain make it longer; whonever travels, as he told me yesterday, with less than fiftygentlemen, and has a thousand arquebusiers in his pay? Is theadventure still to your liking, M. de Marsac, now that you know that?'

  'It is more to my liking, sire,' I answered stoutly.

  'Understand this too,' he rejoined. 'It is essential that this lady,who is at present confined in the Vicomte's house at Chize, should bereleased; but it is equally essential that there should be no breachbetween the Vicomte and myself. Therefore the affair must be the workof an independent man, who has never been in my service, nor in anyway connected with me. If captured, you pay the penalty withoutrecourse to me.'

  'I fully understand, sire,' I answered.

  'Ventre Saint Gris!' he cried, breaking into a low laugh. 'I swear theman is more afraid of the lady than he is of the Vicomte! That is notthe way of most of our Court.'

  Du Mornay, who had been sitting nursing his knee in silence, pursed uphis lips, though it was easy to see that he was well content with theking's approbation. He now intervened. 'With your permission, sire,'he said, 'I will let this gentleman know the details.'

  'Do, my friend,' the king answered. 'And be short, for if we are heremuch longer I shall be missed, and in a twinkling the Court will havefound me a new mistress.'

  He spoke in jest and with a laugh, but I saw Du Mornay start at thewords, as though they were little to his liking; and I learnedafterwards that the Court was really much exercised at this time withthe question who would be the next favourite, the king's passion forthe Countess de la Guiche being evidently on the wane, and that whichhe presently evinced for Madame de Guercheville being as yet a matterof conjecture.

  Du Mornay took no overt notice of the king's words, however, butproceeded to give me my directions. 'Chize, which you know by name,'he said, 'is six leagues from here. Mademoiselle de la Vire isconfined in the northwest room, on the first-floor, overlooking thepark. More I cannot tell you, except that her woman's name isFanchette, and that she is to be trusted. The house is well guarded,and you will
need four or five men. There are plenty of cut-throats tobe hired, only see, M. de Marsac, that they are such as you canmanage, and that Mademoiselle takes no hurt among them. Have horses inwaiting, and the moment you have released the lady ride north with heras fast as her strength will permit. Indeed, you must not spare her,if Turenne be on your heels. You should be across the Loire in sixtyhours after leaving Chize.'

  'Across the Loire?' I exclaimed in astonishment.

  'Yes, sir, across the Loire,' he replied, with some sternness. 'Yourtask, be good enough to understand, is to convoy Mademoiselle de laVire with all speed to Blois. There, attracting as little notice asmay be, you will inquire for the Baron de Rosny at the Bleeding Heart,in the Rue de St. Denys. He will take charge of the lady, or directyou how to dispose of her, and your task will then be accomplished.You follow me?'

  'Perfectly,' I answered, speaking in my turn with some dryness. 'ButMademoiselle I understand is young. What if she will not accompany me,a stranger, entering her room at night, and by the window?'

  'That has been thought of was the answer. He turned to the King ofNavarre, who, after a moment's search, produced a small object fromhis pouch. This he gave to his companion, and the latter transferredit to me. I took it with curiosity. It was the half of a gold carolus,the broken edge of the coin being rough and jagged. 'Show that toMademoiselle, my friend,' Du Mornay continued, 'and she will accompanyyou. She has the other half.'

  'But be careful,' Henry added eagerly, 'to make no mention, even toher, of the King of Navarre. You mark me, M. de Marsac! If you have atany time occasion to speak of me, you may have the honour of callingme _your friend_, and referring to me always in the same manner.'

  This he said with so gracious an air that I was charmed, and thoughtmyself happy indeed to be addressed in this wise by a prince whosename was already so glorious. Nor was my satisfaction diminished whenhis companion drew out a bag containing, as he told me, three hundredcrowns in gold, and placed it in my hands, bidding me defray therefromthe cost of the journey. 'Be careful, however,' he added earnestly,'to avoid, in hiring your men, any appearance of wealth, lest theadventure seem to be suggested by some outside person; instead ofbeing dictated by the desperate state of your own fortunes. Promiserather than give, so far as that will avail. And for what you mustgive, let each livre seem to be the last in your pouch.'

  Henry nodded assent. 'Excellent advice!' he muttered, rising anddrawing on his cloak, 'such as you ever give me, Mornay, and I asseldom take--more's the pity! But, after all, of little avail withoutthis.' He lifted my sword from the table as he spoke, and weighed itin his hand. 'A pretty tool,' he continued, turning suddenly andlooking me very closely in the face. 'A very pretty tool. Were I inyour place, M. de Marsac, I would see that it hung loose in thescabbard. Ay, and more, man, use it!' he added, sinking his voice andsticking out his chin, while his grey eyes, looking ever closer intomine, seemed to grow cold and hard as steel. 'Use it to the last, forif you fall into Turenne's hands, God help you! I cannot!'

  'If I am taken, sire,' I answered, trembling, but not with fear, 'myfate be on my own head.'

  I saw the king's eyes soften at that, and his face change so swiftlythat I scarce knew him for the same man. He let the weapon drop with aclash on the table. 'Ventre Saint Gris!' he exclaimed with a strangethrill of yearning in his tone. 'I swear by God, I would I were inyour shoes, sir. To strike a blow or two with no care what came of it.To take the road with a good horse and a good sword, and see whatfortune would send. To be rid of all this statecraft and protocolling,and never to issue another declaration in this world, but just to befor once a Gentleman of France, with all to win and nothing to losesave the love of my lady! Ah! Mornay, would it not be sweet to leaveall this fret and fume, and ride away to the green woods by Coarraze?'

  'Certainly, if you prefer them to the Louvre, sire,' Du Mornayanswered drily; while I stood, silent and amazed, before this strangeman, who could so suddenly change from grave to gay, and one momentspoke so sagely, and the next like any wild lad in his teens.'Certainly,' he answered, 'if that be your choice, sire; and if youthink that even there the Duke of Guise will leave you in peace.Turenne, I am sure, will be glad to hear of your decision. Doubtlesshe will be elected Protector of the Churches. Nay, sire, for shame!'Du Mornay continued, almost with sternness. 'Would you leave France,which at odd times I have heard you say you loved, to shift forherself? Would you deprive her of the only man who does love her forher own sake?'

  'Well, well, but she is such a fickle sweetheart, my friend,' the kinganswered, laughing, the side glance of his eye on me. 'Never was oneso coy or so hard to clip! And, besides, has not the Pope divorcedus?'

  'The Pope! A fig for the Pope!' Du Mornay rejoined with impatientheat. 'What has he to do with France? An impertinent meddler, and anItalian to boot! I would he and all the brood of them were sunk ahundred fathoms deep in the sea. But, meantime, I would send him atext to digest.'

  '_Exemplum?_' said the king.

  'Whom God has joined together let no man put asunder.'

  'Amen!' quoth Henry softly. 'And France is a fair and comely bride.'

  After that he kept such a silence, falling as it seemed to me into abrown study, that he went away without so much as bidding me farewell,or being conscious, as far as I could tell, of my presence. Du Mornayexchanged a few words with me, to assure himself that I understoodwhat I had to do, and then, with many kind expressions, which I didnot fail to treasure up and con over in the times that were coming,hastened downstairs after his master.

  My joy when I found myself alone may be conceived. Yet was it noecstasy, but a sober exhilaration; such as stirred my pulses indeed,and bade me once more face the world with a firm eye and an assuredbrow, but was far from holding out before me a troubadour's palace orany dazzling prospect. The longer I dwelt on the interview, the moreclearly I saw the truth. As the glamour which Henry's presence andsingular kindness had cast over me began to lose some of its power, Irecognised more and more surely why he had come to me. It was not outof any special favour for one whom he knew by report only, if at allby name; but because he had need of a man poor, and thereforereckless, middle-aged (of which comes discretion), obscure--thereforea safe instrument; to crown all, a gentleman, seeing that both asecret and a woman were in question.

  Withal I wondered too. Looking from the bag of money on the table tothe broken coin in my hand, I scarcely knew which to admire more: theconfidence which entrusted the one to a man broken and beggared, orthe courage of the gentlewoman who should accompany me on the faith ofthe other.