Marguerite De Roberval: A Romance of the Days of Jacques Cartier

by Thomas Guthrie Marquis

  CHAPTER V

  Three weary weeks dragged themselves along. Cartier was all impatiencefor definite information about the King's attitude towards the Canadianexpedition, while Charles and Claude were both eager, for reasons oftheir own, for the return of De Roberval's niece and his ward, whom hehad taken to Fontainebleau with him. The three weeks lengthened into afourth, the fourth into a fifth, and the adventurers were beginning todespair, when the faithful Jean appeared at the inn where Charles andhis friend were lodged, bearing a note from his master.

  De Roberval had returned, and success had crowned his efforts. The Kinghad given him full power to make preparations--but they must come to himat once to receive instructions, and hear from his own lips thegenerosity of their noble monarch.

  Eagerly the two young men hurried to tell Cartier the good news; and thethree proceeded to Roberval's house, where they found him in highspirits. He had received more than he had asked. Anne de Montmorency hadbeen with the King, and a friendship which had been begun at "The Fieldof the Cloth of Gold" had made him an ardent supporter of the littlenobleman from Picardy.

  The King was won to the glorious cause of extending French territory,and of winning souls. He bade Roberval return to St Malo, hurry on hispreparations, collect his crews, and await his official commission,which would follow him as soon as the necessary legal proceedings couldbe gone through. In the meantime a letter signed by the King's own handgave him all the power he needed.

  "You are about to settle a new world for France," he had said toRoberval; "our right of colonisation is firmly established there, andthe sword and the cross will make us strong. To keep you bold in arms,and firm in the faith, I present you with this sword which the saintlyBayard laid upon my shoulders with the words: 'He who has been crowned,consecrated, and anointed with oil sent down from Heaven, he who is theeldest son of the Church, is knight over all other knights'--and withthis golden cross, which encases a fragment of the true cross--thesedints on it are from Spanish blows; thrice did it save my life on thefield of Pavia of unhappy memories--with this talisman you may hope tosucceed in the great land of Norembega."

  The three enthusiastic listeners congratulated him on his success, butwithout heeding them he went on: "That is not all. Hear the substance ofthis letter, signed with his royal hand. A fleet is to be fitted out atonce; the governors of all the provinces are to aid in securing arms;and I"--the little nobleman seemed to grow several inches as he utteredthe words--"I am created Lord of Norembega, Viceroy andLieutenant-General in Canada, Hochelaga, Saguenay, Newfoundland, BelleIsle, Carpunt, Labrador, the Great Bay, and Baccalaos."

  As he rolled off this imposing list of titles La Pommeraye's sense ofhumour got the better of him. The rugged, uninviting land which he knewso well rose vividly before him; and the high-sounding terms which wereheaped upon it in no way lessened its ruggedness. He turned to Roberval,and with a merry twinkle in his blue eye exclaimed: "King Francis istruly generous, most noble Sieur de Nor--you must pardon a soldier'stongue and memory; I shall have to shorten your titles--Sieur of theUniverse; but there are difficulties in the way. I have sounded thefishermen and sailors of St Malo, and none seem willing to cross thestormy Atlantic as settlers. If we could lure them across for fish, orfurs, or gold, it would be well; but all dread the fierce cold and thescurvy to which so many of their companions have already succumbed."

  "It matters not," said Roberval; "I have full power to raise men, andthe sturdy beggars--and, if all other resources fail, the denizens ofour prisons--shall be forced on board my vessels."

  "Sieur, that will be a dangerous experiment," interrupted Cartier. "Ihad three criminals with me on my last voyage, and they poisoned theminds of nearly every other man on the ship."

  "You forget," said Roberval, "that I am commander in this expedition. Aniron hand falls upon the man who disobeys my slightest wish. Criminalsare but men; and they will find that no ordinary turnkey watches overthem. But why borrow troubles? Let us to work and build our ships, getthe stores on board, and man them, and the other difficulties can thenbe faced. We have three ships now, Master Cartier. Set your carpentersto work on two others at once, and build them with particular referenceto the Atlantic passage and the dangers from the ice. You had betterconsult with Jehan Alfonse. You are both skilled seamen, and what oneoverlooks the other will be sure to provide for."

  He then proceeded to intrust to Claude the task of superintending thepurchase of supplies. Enough provision would be needed for three hundredmen for a year at least; and it would be necessary to see thateverything could be hurried into St Malo at a moment's notice.

  "And you, M. de la Pommeraye," he added, turning to Charles, "as youseem to have already taken it upon yourself to seek men for thisexpedition, have my authority to go into every vessel in the harbour, orin any harbour in France, and offer the men double their present wage;and if that will not induce them, go to the prisons and select such menas you think fit. You know a man when you see him; and this letter withthe King's seal will open the prison gates before you. For myself, Imust away to Picardy to set my estate in order. I shall return with allpossible speed; meantime spare no efforts to hasten our preparations."

  So the three men were dismissed, and as Claude and Charles were about toleave the house they looked stealthily round the hall. But no flutter ofskirts nor any trace of woman's occupation rewarded them. Robervalnoticed their glances, and as he bade them farewell he said, somewhatroughly: "St Malo is a dangerous place for women. I have left my nieceat Court. If our great undertaking is to succeed, nothing must beallowed to distract our attention from our plans. No other cares must beallowed to interfere with our sole object in view--to increase the gloryand renown of our beloved country."

  The three men passed into the narrow streets, each absorbed in his ownreflections. Cartier saw in imagination his name on the pages ofhistory, next to that of Columbus. Claude had but one immediate end inview--to plan how he might extend his expeditions for supplies as far asFontainebleau, while as for Charles, since the only way to reachMarguerite appeared to be by winning the good opinion of her uncle, heresolved, as a first step in that direction, to devote his wholeenergies to the task he had in hand.

  Winter swiftly passed, spring lengthened to summer; summer was on thewane, and still the New World seemed no nearer. The ships werecompleted, and the empty hulls rode in the harbour of St Malo awaitingsupplies and arms. But the money promised by the King was notforthcoming; and Cartier reluctantly prepared to spend another winter inold France. The prisons of St Malo were crowded to overflowing withcriminals for the voyage; for only a few hardy adventurers had beensecured by La Pommeraye. In August Roberval paid a flying visit to hisfleet, inspected the vessels and men, and expressed himself strongly onthe slowness of the King in keeping his promise. It would be useless tostart for America during the autumn months; so he made up his mind topay a second visit to Fontainebleau, see what could be done in view ofthe following spring, and take his niece and ward back to Picardy withhim for the winter.

  While he was in St Malo his steps were dogged, unknown to him, by aswarthy young mariner who had been engaged for the voyage. He had aFrench name, but a Spanish face; and Cartier, meeting him one day in thestreet, exclaimed: "Pamphilo de Narvaez, or his ghost!"

  "I have been twice mistaken for that Spaniard, whose name I never heardtill I came to this place," said the young man. "My name is NarcisseBelleau. Narvaez' bones lie at the bottom of the Gulf of Mexico--atleast so M. de la Pommeraye told me when he engaged me for this voyage."

  "A most remarkable resemblance!" returned Cartier. "I would as soon havethe Devil on board _La Grande Hermine_ as De Narvaez. Be sure, youngman, you join one of the other vessels. Belleau is your name, you say? Agood name, but a Narvaez face!"

  As he turned away the young Spaniard, for such he was, chuckled tohimself: "A good name, indeed! And you and your fellows will rue the dayyou ever looked upon this face."

  He was in very truth Pamphilo de Narvaez,
a son of the famous sailor ofthat name, and had been sent as a spy from the Spanish Court to discoverif the rumours of a mighty expedition being fitted out to occupy the NewWorld--Spain's peculiar property--were true. Seeing that Roberval wasthe soul of the undertaking, he determined to bide his time, strike himdown, and save Spain a bloody war in America. He learned that Robervalmeant to visit Fontainebleau, and from there to set out with his niecefor Picardy. A meeting on the road, with a few dare-devils to aid him,would end the expedition and win him honours and prosperity on hisreturn to Spain.

  So he planned; and when he had succeeded he would go to America andfinish the work of exploration begun by his illustrious father.

  In the meantime Claude and Charles, committing their stores andprisoners to the charge of Cartier, left St Malo, neither telling theother whither he was bound. By different roads, and almostsimultaneously, they turned their horses' heads towards Paris; bothhoping to meet Roberval and his party as they passed through that cityon their way to their northern home. They reached their destinationwithout encountering each other, took lodgings in adjoining streets,and, each unconscious of the other's presence, set out to make enquiriesas to when the nobleman might be expected. Had they had long to waitthey must have met; but one November day, very shortly after theirarrival, a gay crowd of riders came galloping through the streets of thecity. Their fluttering pennants, their nodding plumes, their gorgeousdoublets and richly-ornamented cloaks, their finely damascened arms,studded with jewels, and their horses, as richly caparisoned asthemselves, all told that they had come from the fashionable world ofthe Court at Fontainebleau.

  Such was indeed the case; they had come to escort De Roberval and hishousehold thus far on their northward way. The two young men learnedwhere Roberval was to pass the night, and also that he intended todepart early the following morning, and each returned to his rooms,determined to be up with the lark in order to obtain at least a glimpseof the fair lady who had drawn him to Paris.

  But Roberval was up before them; and armed from head to heel, and with abodyguard of a few sturdy Picards, had already left the city. Claude wasthe first to reach the nobleman's headquarters, and, on learning ofRoberval's departure only a few moments before, set spurs to his horse,hoping to overtake him before he could get clear of the walls. Onarriving at the gate, however, he learned that the party had alreadypassed through. There were three roads which would lead them to theancient and renowned castle which frowned down upon the fruitful plainsbetween the Bresle and the Somme. The nobleman had selected the longestroute, but the safest in those troublous times. Claude paused for a fewmoments to consider this information. He, too, was fully armed, and worea breastplate of steel beneath his riding cloak. His splendid figure,and the magnificent manner in which he sat his horse, caused some remarkamong the guards at the gate, of whom he made his enquiries. Hisresolution was soon taken. He decided to follow by the western androugher road, which merged into the other at a distance of some miles.He would thus gain a point in advance of Roberval, after a few hours'hard riding, then he would at least have the satisfaction of formingone of the escort as far as the castle.

  He set out accordingly; and scarcely was he out of sight when a secondrider came up to the gates. When he found that he was too late even fora sight of his goddess, Charles had impulsively started in pursuit,though what he hoped to gain even if he did succeed in overtaking her,guarded as she was, he had no definite idea. The sentinel whom hequestioned told him the direction Roberval had taken, and added thefurther information that a single horseman had but just ridden in hothaste after him, by a different route. A suspicion instantly flashedthrough Charles' mind, and the description of Claude furnished by theman left no doubt as to the rider's identity. Without stopping toconsider the wisdom of his course--thinking only of Marguerite, whom hecould not hope to see once she was behind those battlementedwalls--Charles turned his horse, and galloped off by the third of thethree roads mentioned. It was a shorter cut than either of the othertwo, but one which few travellers ever took, as every mile had witnessedsome deed of violence from the bands of robbers who haunted it.

  Roberval and his party made their way leisurely along the dusty roadthey had chosen, while the two young men rode with fevered haste alongtheir less frequented paths. Towards noon the three were rapidlyconverging towards the same point, at which they would arrive almostsimultaneously.

  Claude, who was mounted on a swift charger, which had more than oncecarried him to victory in a tournament, was the first to reach thispoint. Scanning the ground he noted that no cavalcade had as yet passedthat way. As he sat his horse and waited, the measured galloping ofhoofs coming towards Paris fell upon his ears. He did not wish to meetstrangers, so withdrew into a thick grove at one side of the road.Scarcely was he concealed when half a dozen hard riders, well horsed andarmed at every point, drew rein at the very spot where he had firstchecked his steed. They surveyed the road hurriedly, and at a word fromtheir leader plunged into a thicket at the opposite side.

  "There is trouble in store for some one," said Claude to himself. "If Iam not much mistaken, the leader of that gang of cut-throats is noneother than Narcisse Belleau, whom, despite his good French and vehementprotestations, I believe to be a Spanish spy. And now to my dagger andsword; I may need them. I would La Pommeraye were only here to lend hiseye and arm to the coming struggle."

  Scarcely had he finished examining his weapons when a cloud of dustslowly advancing in the distance told him that a party of considerablesize was on its way towards the ambuscade. He anxiously awaited theirapproach, and soon recognised Roberval's Picard escort, and thefluttering skirts of the women. If the men in ambush were waiting forthem they were doomed, unless he could warn them. To pass from hishiding meant almost instant death, but it must be risked; so he beganslowly to make his way towards the road, and was soon at the very edgeof the grove. When De Roberval was within a hundred yards he put spursto his horse, which, seeming to scent danger, made a dash forward pastthe lurking-place of the assassins. The Spaniard and his comrades wereso taken by surprise that for a moment they did not realise hisintentions; but De Narvaez, with an oath, exclaimed: "It is DePontbriand; shoot the dog down!" Their petronels rang out, but theclumsy weapons shot wide of the mark, and in a trice Claude was with hisfriends, who, alarmed by the firing, and the wild rush of theapproaching rider, had come to a sudden standstill. Before they had timeto question De Pontbriand the Spaniards were upon them, and with fierceshouts and drawn swords dashed into the group which now formed aprotecting body about Marguerite, Marie, and Bastienne. There was asudden checking of careering steeds, a clashing of weapons, a heavyfalling of wounded men, and three of De Roberval's party and one of thefoe lay in the dust. As De Narvaez shot past he placed his petronelagainst his breast and fired point blank at De Roberval, butquick-witted Bastienne, who saw his intention, struck her master's horseon the nose, and the animal, careering wildly, received the contents ofthe charge in the heart. The Spaniards rapidly returned to the attack.There were now but five of them opposed to the three Picards whoremained with Claude and Roberval, and they expected an easy victory.Two of the Picards fell before their attack, and De Roberval himself wasstruck down by a fierce sabre blow which dinted his helmet. Claude foundhimself hard pressed by two of the ruffians at once. It must end in amoment.

  But the shots which had been fired attracted a traveller who was alwayseager for a fray. Just at the critical moment La Pommeraye's horseturned the bend in the road. His accustomed eye took in the state ofaffairs at once. His sword leaped from its sheath, and with an energywhich he seldom needed to exert he braced himself for the struggle. Hewas upon Claude's assailants in an instant; one quick thrust and a burlySpaniard fell forward on his face. The weapon seemed scarcely to havetouched the man, so quickly was it withdrawn; and with the same motionthat drew it forth La Pommeraye sent it crashing through the helmet ofthe other ruffian. De Narvaez and his two companions saw that they werefoiled, and, striking fiercely at Claude, who fell
beneath their unitedblows, they turned to flee. But they had lost a second too much. Thatlast blow was their ruin. Charles was upon them like a whirlwind. Hissword flashed like a destroying sunbeam, and two others fell lifeless onthe road, while their steeds galloped wildly away. De Narvaez turned toface his foe; and his dark face blanched beneath the fierce eye of theFrench giant. It was but a moment. Charles crossed swords with him;once, twice--and as if he had been saying "One, two three, die!" heplunged his blade through and through the body of the spy.

  "Hot work, but glorious!" he exclaimed, as the Spaniard fell heavily inthe dust. "Five in as many minutes. But I must look to my friends."

  Bastienne was sitting with her master's head in her lap. Marie had takenoff Claude's helmet and revealed a ghastly wound on the temple.Marguerite stood beside her horse, shading her eyes with her hand, herface tense and strained as she watched the issue of the combat. It wasnot till the victor, flushed but triumphant, his gay riding-suit coveredwith blood and dust, advanced, and doffing his hat almost to the groundbowed low before her, that she recognised La Pommeraye.

  "Mademoiselle is uninjured, I trust?" said Charles.

  The blood had mounted to her cheek as she saw in their preserver herrude assailant of nearly a year before, but she kept the quiet dignityof her manner. Drawing off one glove she held out her hand, saying asshe did so:

  "Monsieur, under God we owe you all our lives. But for your timelyappearance, what would have become of three defenceless women when myuncle fell?"

  The delicate fingers lay for a moment in La Pommeraye's mighty grasp, ashe raised them reverently to his lips, hardly believing in his own goodfortune. They were instantly withdrawn, however, and Marguerite hastenedto her uncle's side.

  De Roberval was only stunned, and might safely be left to Bastienne'sskill. It was otherwise with Claude. The wound was a severe one, asCharles instantly recognised.

  "Pardon me," he said to Marie, who, less self-controlled thanMarguerite, had given way, once the crisis had passed, and was weepinghysterically, "pardon me, Mademoiselle, but I must lift him out of theheat and dust."

  With tender hands he raised his comrade, and carried him into theshade. He was a skilled surgeon--taught by frequent experience--and withhelp from the women soon had the wound bandaged. In the meantimeRoberval had recovered from his swoon, and was rubbing his eyes withamazement at the strange turn events had taken.

  "How came you here?" exclaimed he to La Pommeraye.

  "My evil genius prompted me to come to the aid of an ungratefulnobleman," replied Charles, laughingly. "But it was just as well for youthat I did. However, it was a grand fight; and could I only have onelike it every day in France, you would not get me to go to Canada. But Iwill not equivocate, Sieur," he added in a lower voice, drawing Robervala little aside, "I came here, as no doubt did De Pontbriand, who was, Ibelieve, in Paris yesterday, to accompany you on your way to Picardy.Why, you know best, but we cannot speak of it now."

  De Roberval scowled, and then exclaimed with enthusiasm:

  "You are a noble fellow! There were five against us when I fell, and nowyour bloody sword tells a heroic tale. But here, Etienne," and he turnedto his only surviving retainer, who had stood all this time staringstupidly at La Pommeraye as if he had been a god suddenly descended fromthe sky, "look to the wounded, and you, Bastienne, help him. Are all mybrave fellows dead? See what can be done, and then ride like the wind tothe inn, five leagues ahead of us, and fetch men to bury the dead andbear the wounded home. But what is this? De Pontbriand wounded?"

  Claude was still unconscious. He was borne to the inn on a rude litterof boughs, and there La Pommeraye watched and tended him till he was outof danger. But he was still too weak to be moved, and with the wretchedaccommodation and attendance which the inn afforded, his recovery badefair to be slow. Seeing this, De Roberval had him removed to his castle,which was but a few leagues distant, and there Charles, who was notincluded in the invitation, was reluctantly obliged to leave his friendand return to St Malo alone. He would have been much more reluctant hadnot the tears which Marie had shed, as he imagined, over Claude's body,convinced him still more firmly that she was the object of hisaffection.

  And so it happened that Claude spent a large part of the winter inPicardy, watched over and waited upon, as his strength slowly returned,by the fair hands of Marguerite de Roberval and her vivacious friend andcompanion, Marie de Vignan.