CHAPTER V.
THE ROAD TO BLOIS.
We gained the road without let or hindrance, whence a sharp burst inthe moonlight soon brought us to the village. Through this we swept onto the inn, almost running over the four evangelists, whom we foundstanding at the door ready for the saddle. I bade them, in a quickperemptory tone, to get to horse, and was overjoyed to see them obeywithout demur or word of Fresnoy. In another minute, with a greatclatter of hoofs, we sprang clear of the hamlet, and were well on theroad to Melle, with Poitiers some thirteen leagues before us. I lookedback, and thought I discerned lights moving in the direction of thechateau; but the dawn was still two hours off, and the moonlight leftme in doubt whether these were real or the creatures of my own fearfulfancy.
I remember, three years before this time, on the occasion of thefamous retreat from Angers--when the Prince of Conde had involved hisarmy beyond the Loire, and saw himself, in the impossibility ofrecrossing the river, compelled to take ship for England, leavingevery one to shift for himself--I well remember on that occasionriding, alone and pistol in hand, through more than thirty miles ofthe enemy's country without drawing rein. But my anxieties were thenconfined to the four shoes of my horse. The dangers to which I wasexposed at every ford and cross road were such as are inseparable froma campaign, and breed in generous hearts only a fierce pleasure,rarely to be otherwise enjoyed. And though I then rode warily, andwhere I could not carry terror, had all to fear myself, there wasnothing secret or underhand in my business.
It was very different now. During the first few hours of our flightfrom Chize I experienced a painful excitement, an alarm, a feverishanxiety to get forward, which was new to me; which oppressed myspirits to the very ground; which led me to take every sound borne tous on the wind for the sound of pursuit, transforming the clang of ahammer on the anvil into the ring of swords, and the voices of my ownmen into those of the pursuers. It was in vain mademoiselle rode witha free hand, and leaping such obstacles as lay in our way, gavepromise of courage and endurance beyond my expectations. I could thinkof nothing but the three long days before us, with twenty-four hoursto every day, and each hour fraught with a hundred chances of disasterand ruin.
In fact, the longer I considered our position--and as we poundedalong, now splashing through a founderous hollow, now stumbling as wewound over a stony shoulder, I had ample time to reflect upon it--thegreater seemed the difficulties before us. The loss of Fresnoy, whileit freed me from some embarrassment, meant also the loss of a goodsword, and we had mustered only too few before. The country which laybetween us and the Loire, being the borderland between our party andthe League, had been laid desolate so often as to be abandoned topillage and disorder of every kind. The peasants had flocked into thetowns. Their places had been taken by bands of robbers and desertersfrom both parties, who haunted the ruined villages about Poitiers, andpreyed upon all who dared to pass. To add to our perils, the royalarmy under the Duke of Nevers was reported to be moving slowlysouthward, not very far to the left of our road; while a Huguenotexpedition against Niort was also in progress within a few leagues ofus.
With four staunch and trustworthy comrades at my back, I might havefaced even this situation with a smile and a light heart; but theknowledge that my four knaves might mutiny at any moment, or, worsestill, rid themselves of me and all restraint by a single treacherousblow such as Fresnoy had aimed at me, filled me with an ever-presentdread; which it taxed my utmost energies to hide from them, and whichI strove in vain to conceal from mademoiselle's keener vision.
Whether it was this had an effect upon her, giving her a meaneropinion of me than that which I had for a while hoped she entertained,or that she began, now it was too late, to regret her flight andresent my part in it, I scarcely know; but from daybreak onwards sheassumed an attitude of cold suspicion towards me, which was only lessunpleasant than the scornful distance of her manner when she deigned,which was seldom, to address me.
Not once did she allow me to forget that I was in her eyes a needyadventurer, paid by her friends to escort her to a place of safety,but without any claim to the smallest privilege of intimacy orequality. When I would have adjusted her saddle, she bade her womancome and hold up her skirt, that my hands might not touch its hem evenby accident. And when I would have brought wine to her at Melle, wherewe stayed for twenty minutes, she called Fanchette to hand it to her.She rode for the most part in her mask; and with her woman. One goodeffect only her pride and reserve had; they impressed our men with astrong sense of her importance, and the danger to which anyinterference with her might expose them.
The two men whom Fresnoy had enlisted I directed to ride a score ofpaces in advance. Luke and John I placed in the rear. In this manner Ithought to keep them somewhat apart. For myself, I proposed to rideabreast of mademoiselle, but she made it so clear that myneighbourhood displeased her that I fell back, leaving her to ridewith Fanchette; and contented myself with plodding at their heels, andstriving to attach the later evangelists to my interests.
We were so fortunate, despite my fears, as to find the road nearlydeserted--as, alas, was much of the country on either side--and tomeet none but small parties travelling along it; who were glad enough,seeing the villainous looks of our outriders, to give us a wide berth,and be quit of us for the fright. We skirted Lusignan, shunning thestreets, but passing near enough for me to point out to mademoisellethe site of the famous tower built, according to tradition, by thefairy Melusina, and rased thirteen years back by the Leaguers. Shereceived my information so frigidly, however, that I offered no more,but fell back shrugging my shoulders, and rode in silence, until, sometwo hours after noon, the city of Poitiers came into sight, lyingwithin its circle of walls and towers on a low hill in the middle of acountry clothed in summer with rich vineyards, but now brown and bareand cheerless to the eye.
Fanchette turned and asked me abruptly if that were Poitiers.
I answered that it was, but added that for certain reasons I proposednot to halt, but to lie at a village a league beyond the city, wherethere was a tolerable inn.
'We shall do very well here,' the woman answered rudely. 'Any way, mylady will go no farther. She is tired and cold, and wet besides, andhas gone far enough.'
'Still,' I answered, nettled by the woman's familiarity, 'I thinkmademoiselle will change her mind when she hears my reasons for goingfarther.'
'Mademoiselle does not wish to hear them, sir,' the lady repliedherself, and very sharply.
'Nevertheless, I think you had better hear them,' I persisted, turningto her respectfully. 'You see, mademoiselle----'
'I see only one thing, sir,' she exclaimed, snatching off her mask anddisplaying a countenance beautiful indeed, but flushed for the momentwith anger and impatience, 'that, whatever betides, I stay at Poitiersto-night.'
'If it would content you to rest an hour?' I suggested gently.
'It will not content me!' she rejoined with spirit. 'And let me tellyou, sir,' she went on impetuously, 'once for all, that you take toomuch upon yourself. You are here to escort me, and to give orders tothese ragamuffins, for they are nothing better, with whom you havethought fit to disgrace our company; but not to give orders to me orto control my movements. Confine yourself for the future, sir, to yourduties, if you please.'
'I desire only to obey you,' I answered, suppressing the angryfeelings which rose in my breast, and speaking as coolly as lay in mypower. 'But, as the first of my duties is to provide for your safety,I am determined to omit nothing which can conduce to that end. Youhave not considered that, if a party in pursuit of us reaches Poitiersto-night, search will be made for us in the city, and we shall betaken. If, on the other hand, we are known to have passed through, thehunt may go no farther; certainly will go no farther to-night.Therefore we must not, mademoiselle,' I added firmly, 'lie in Poitiersto-night.'
'Sir,' she exclaimed, looking at me, her face crimson with wonder andindignation, 'do you dare to
?'
'I dare do my duty, mademoiselle,' I answered, plucking up a spirit,though my heart was sore. 'I am a man old enough to be your father,and with little to lose, or I had not been here. I care nothing whatyou think or what you say of me, provided I can do what I haveundertaken to do and place you safely in the hands of your friends.But enough, mademoiselle, we are at the gate. If you will permit me, Iwill ride through the streets beside you. We shall so attract lessattention.'
Without waiting for a permission which she was very unlikely to give,I pushed my horse forward, and took my place beside her, signing toFanchette to fall back. The maid obeyed, speechless with indignation;while mademoiselle flashed a scathing glance at me and looked round inhelpless anger, as though it was in her mind to appeal against me evento the passers-by. But she thought better of it, and contentingherself with muttering the word 'Impertinent' put on her mask withfingers which trembled, I fancy, not a little.
A small rain was falling and the afternoon was well advanced when weentered the town, but I noticed that, notwithstanding this, thestreets presented a busy and animated appearance, being full of knotsof people engaged in earnest talk. A bell was tolling somewhere, andnear the cathedral a crowd of no little size was standing, listeningto a man who seemed to be reading a placard or manifesto attached tothe wall. In another place a soldier, wearing the crimson colours ofthe League, but splashed and stained as with recent travel, washolding forth to a breathless circle who seemed to hang upon his lips.A neighbouring corner sheltered a handful of priests who whisperedtogether with gloomy faces. Many stared at us as we passed, and somewould have spoken; but I rode steadily on, inviting no converse.Nevertheless at the north gate I got a rare fright; for, though itwanted a full half-hour of sunset, the porter was in the act ofclosing it. Seeing us, he waited grumbling until we came up, and thenmuttered, in answer to my remonstrance, something about queer timesand wilful people having their way. I took little notice of what hesaid, however, being anxious only to get through the gate and leave asfew traces of our passage as might be.
As soon as we were outside the town I fell back, permitting Fanchetteto take my place. For another league, a long and dreary one, weplodded on in silence, horses and men alike jaded and sullen, and thewomen scarcely able to keep their saddles for fatigue. At last, muchto my relief, seeing that I began to fear I had taxed mademoiselle'sstrength too far, the long low buildings of the inn at which Iproposed to stay came in sight, at the crossing of the road and river.The place looked blank and cheerless, for the dusk was thickening; butas we trailed one by one into the courtyard a stream of firelightburst on us from doors and windows, and a dozen sounds of life andcomfort greeted our ears.
Noticing that mademoiselle was benumbed and cramped with long sitting,I would have helped her to dismount; but she fiercely rejected my aid,and I had to content myself with requesting the landlord to assign thebest accommodation he had to the lady and her attendant, and secure asmuch privacy for them as possible. The man assented very civilly andsaid all should be done; but I noticed that his eyes wandered while Italked, and that he seemed to have something on his mind. When hereturned, after disposing of them, it came out.
'Did you ever happen to see him, sir?' he asked with a sigh; yet wasthere a smug air of pleasure mingled with his melancholy.
'See whom?' I answered, staring at him, for neither of us hadmentioned any one.
'The Duke, sir.'
I stared again between wonder and suspicion. 'The Duke of Nevers isnot in this part, is he?' I said slowly. 'I heard he was on theBrittany border, away to the westward.'
'Mon Dieu!' my host exclaimed, raising his hands in astonishment. 'Youhave not heard, sir?'
'I have heard nothing,' I answered impatiently.
'You have not heard, sir, that the most puissant and illustrious lordthe Duke of Guise is dead?'
'M. de Guise dead? It is not true!' I cried astonished.
He nodded, however, several times with an air of great importance,and seemed as if he would have gone on to give me some particulars.But, remembering, as I fancied, that he spoke in the hearing ofhalf-a-dozen guests who sat about the great fire behind me, and hadboth eyes and ears open, he contented himself with shifting his towelto his other arm and adding only, 'Yes, sir, dead as any nail. Thenews came through here yesterday, and made a pretty stir. It happenedat Blois the day but one before Christmas, if all be true.'
I was thunderstruck. This was news which might change the face ofFrance. 'How did it happen?' I asked.
My host covered his mouth with his hand and coughed, and, privilytwitching my sleeve, gave me to understand with some shamefacednessthat he could not say more in public. I was about to make some excuseto retire with him, when a harsh voice, addressed apparently to me,caused me to turn sharply. I found at my elbow a tall thin-faced monkin the habit of the Jacobin order. He had risen from his seat besidethe fire, and seemed to be labouring under great excitement.
'Who asked how it happened?' he cried, rolling his eyes in a kind offrenzy, while still observant, or I was much mistaken, of hislisteners. Is there a man in France to whom the tale has not beentold? Is there?'
'I will answer for one,' I replied, regarding him with little favour.'I have heard nothing.'
'Then you shall! Listen!' he exclaimed, raising his right hand andbrandishing it as though he denounced a person then present. 'Hear myaccusation, made in the name of Mother Church and the saints againstthe arch hypocrite, the perjurer and assassin sitting in high places!He shall be Anathema Maranatha, for he has shed the blood of the holyand the pure, the chosen of Heaven! He shall go down to the pit, andthat soon. The blood that he has shed shall be required of him, andthat before he is one year older.'
'Tut-tut. All that sounds very fine, good father,' I said, waxingimpatient, and a little scornful; for I saw that he was one of thosewandering and often crazy monks in whom the League found their mostuseful emissaries. 'But I should profit more by your gentle words, ifI knew whom you were cursing.'
'The man of blood!' he cried; 'through whom the last but not the leastof God's saints and martyrs entered into glory on the Friday beforeChristmas.'
Moved by such profanity, and judging him, notwithstanding theextravagance of his words and gestures, to be less mad than he seemed,and at least as much knave as fool, I bade him sternly have done withhis cursing, and proceed to his story if he had one.
He glowered at me for a moment, as though he were minded to launch hisspiritual weapons at my head; but as I returned his glare with anunmoved eye--and my four rascals, who were as impatient as myself tolearn the news, and had scarce more reverence for a shaven crown,began to murmur--he thought better of it, and cooling as suddenly ashe had flamed up, lost no more time in satisfying our curiosity.
It would ill become me, however, to set down the extravagant and oftenblasphemous harangue in which, styling M. de Guise the martyr of God,he told the story now so familiar--the story of that dark wintrymorning at Blois, when the king's messenger, knocking early at theduke's door, bade him hurry, for the king wanted him. The story istrite enough now. When I heard it first in the inn on the Clain, itwas all new and all marvellous.
The monk, too, telling the story as if he had seen the events with hisown eyes, omitted nothing which might impress his hearers. He told ushow the duke received warning after warning, and answered in the veryantechamber, 'He dare not!' How his blood, mysteriously advised ofcoming dissolution, grew chill, and his eye, wounded at ChateauThierry, began to run, so that he had to send for the handkerchief hehad forgotten to bring. He told us, even, how the duke drew hisassassins up and down the chamber, how he cried for mercy, and how hedied at last at the foot of the king's bed, and how the king, who hadnever dared to face him living, came and spurned him dead!
There were pale faces round the fire when he ceased, and bent browsand lips hard pressed together. When he stood and cursed the King ofFrance--cursing him openly by the name of Henry of Valois, a thing Ihad never looked to hear in F
rance--though no one said 'Amen,' and allglanced over their shoulders, and our host pattered from the room asif he had seen a ghost, it seemed to be no man's duty to gainsay him.
For myself, I was full of thoughts which it would have been unsafe toutter in that company or so near the Loire. I looked back sixteenyears. Who but Henry of Guise had spurned the corpse of Coligny? Andwho but Henry of Valois had backed him in the act? Who but Henry ofGuise had drenched Paris with blood, and who but Henry of Valois hadridden by his side? One 23rd of the month--a day never to be erasedfrom France's annals--had purchased for him a term of greatness. Asecond 23rd saw him pay the price--saw his ashes cast secretly and bynight no man knows where!
Moved by such thoughts, and observing that the priest was going theround of the company collecting money for masses for the duke's soul,to which object I could neither give with a good conscience nor refusewithout exciting suspicion, I slipped out; and finding a man of decentappearance talking with the landlord in a small room beside thekitchen, I called for a flask of the best wine, and by means of thatintroduction obtained my supper in their company.
The stranger was a Norman horsedealer, returning home after disposingof his string. He seemed to be in a large way of business, and beingof a bluff, independent spirit, as many of those Norman townsmen are,was inclined at first to treat me with more familiarity than respect;the fact of my nag, for which he would have chaffered, excelling mycoat in quality, leading him to set me down as a steward or intendant.The pursuit of his trade, however, had brought him into connectionwith all classes of men, and he quickly perceived his mistake; and ashe knew the provinces between the Seine and Loire to perfection, andmade it part of his business to foresee the chances of peace and war,I obtained a great amount of information from him, and indeedconceived no little liking for him. He believed that the assassinationof M. de Guise would alienate so much of France from the king that hismajesty would have little left save the towns on the Loire, and someother places lying within easy reach of his court at Blois.
'But,' I said, 'things seem quiet now. Here, for instance.'
'It is the calm before the storm,' he answered. 'There is a monk inthere. Have you heard him?'
I nodded.
'He is only one among a hundred--a thousand,' the horsedealercontinued, looking at me and nodding with meaning. He was abrown-haired man with shrewd grey eyes, such as many Normans have.'They will get their way too, you will see,' he went on. 'Well, horseswill go up, so I have no cause to grumble; but, if I were on my way toBlois with women or gear of that kind, I should not choose this timefor picking posies on the road. I should see the inside of the gatesas soon as possible.'
I thought there was much in what he said; and when he went on tomaintain that the king would find himself between the hammer and theanvil--between the League holding all the north and the Huguenotsholding all the south--and must needs in time come to terms with thelatter, seeing that the former would rest content with nothing shortof his deposition, I began to agree with him that we should shortlysee great changes and very stirring times.
'Still if they depose the king,' I said, 'the King of Navarre mustsucceed him. He is the heir of France.'
'Bah!' my companion replied somewhat contemptuously. 'The League willsee to that. He goes with the other.'
'Then the kings are in one cry, and you are right,' I said withconviction. 'They must unite.'
'So they will. It is only a question of time,' he said.
In the morning, having only one man with him, and, as I guessed, aconsiderable sum of money, he volunteered to join our party as far asBlois. I assented gladly, and he did so, this addition to our numbersridding me at once of the greater part of my fears. I did not expectany opposition on the part of mademoiselle, who would gain inconsequence as well as in safety. Nor did she offer any. She wascontent, I think, to welcome any addition to our party which wouldsave her from the necessity of riding in the company of my old cloak.
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 57