Corse de Leon; or, The Brigand: A Romance. Volume 1 (of 2)

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXI.

  The horse was strong and fresh, and Bernard de Rohan rode on rapidly.The stars came out brighter and brighter as the night deepened, and theclear, deep, lustrous purple of those fair southern skies became mingledwith yellow light, as the moon, looking large and defined, rose over thedeep black summits of the eastern hills. It was not long before theFrench frontier was passed; and in those days, as Savoy was completelyin the occupation of the French, no guards watched upon the way to stopor question the stranger coming from the neighbouring land.

  Judging the distance which Isabel must have gone, even at a slow pace,to be considerable, Bernard de Rohan did not think fit to pause at anyof the first towns or villages which he met with, but, avoiding man'shabitation as far as possible, went on till his horse's speed began toflag, and he found it necessary to stop for repose and refreshment. Hehad now gone on, however, for about five hours, so that it was by thistime the middle of the night, and with difficulty he made himself heardin a small hamlet on the rode to Grenoble. He procured, at length, somerefreshment for himself and for his horse, but no tidings whatsoeverwhich could lead him to judge whether Isabel and his servants had or hadnot taken the same road which he himself was following. He remained,however, for two hours, to allow the horse time to rest, and then, oncemore putting his foot in the stirrup, rode onward at a slower pace.

  About an hour after, the day once more began to dawn, and he foundhimself winding in and out among the beautiful hills which border theIsere. Everything was rich, and fertile, and picturesque, and upon thosescenes the eye of Bernard de Rohan could have rested with infinitepleasure at any other time; but now anxious eagerness hurried him on,scarcely remarking the objects around for any other purpose than tojudge where he was, and how far from Grenoble. A little after five inthe morning he passed through the small village of Montbonnat, and heardwith gladness the assurance of the people of the place that he was notmuch more than two leagues from Grenoble.

  After giving his horse a draught of water, he went on his way againthrough that beautiful district of streams and mountains, constantlyascending and descending, till at length, not far from the hamlet ofImfray, he saw before him a single horseman coming slowly on, the firstperson, in fact, whom he had met upon the road since he had set out thenight before.

  When the young cavalier first perceived him, the man was at the distanceof some two hundred yards; but it was with no small pleasure thatBernard de Rohan at once recognised one of his own servants, namedPierre Millort, an honest but somewhat weak man, who had been born uponhis own estates, and had served him for many years. He now felt certainof obtaining speedy news of Isabel de Brienne, and rode directly towardsthe other horseman, expecting that the man would remember his lord'sperson at once. The young nobleman, however, dressed in the habit whichhad been given him by Corse de Leon, bore not at all his usual aspect,and good Pierre Millort also devoutly believed him to be dead. It is notto be wondered at, therefore, that he looked upon the person whoapproached him as a complete stranger; and, fancying that there wassomething in his appearance of a very doubtful nature, he drew his sworda little forward as he saw the strange cavalier riding directly up tohim, and prepared to defend himself, in case of need, as well as mightbe.

  When Bernard de Rohan called him by his name, however, asking if he didnot recollect him, astonishment, not a little mingled with superstitiousfear, made the man nearly fall from his horse, and he felt stronglyinclined to argue the matter with his young master, in order to persuadehim that he was really dead. At length, becoming fully convinced thatsuch was not the case, and that Bernard himself, in a bodily andcorporeal form, was before his eyes, he gave him the information whichhe desired regarding Isabel de Brienne, though that information was byno means satisfactory to the young cavalier.

  The lady had arrived at Grenoble, he said, on the very same day that shehad set out from Gandelot's inn; but, finding that her brother was notthere, and had not sent any notice of his coming to the house in thecity where she expected to hear of him, she had taken her departure onthe following morning, in order to reach the capital and throw herselfupon the protection of the king as speedily as possible. She hoped toarrive at Vienne in one day, the man continued, and had sent him off atonce to convey intelligence of her route to somebody he was to meet atGandelot's inn.

  "Then how happened you not to be there last night?" demanded Bernard deRohan. "Had you pursued your journey, you would have saved me thetrouble of coming to Grenoble, and would have enabled me to cut acrossthe country and join her at Vienne this morning. Now she will be twowhole days in advance of me."

  "And not a horse will you get in Grenoble with which to pursue yourway," replied the man; "for that's the reason, sir, why I did not comeon at once."

  "Had you not your own horse?" demanded Bernard de Rohan, somewhatangrily.

  "Yes, sir," answered the servant, "I had; but a sad accident happened tohim, poor fellow. I left Grenoble at the very same moment that the ladyset out for Vienne; but I had not got far beyond La Tronche, when, theroad being covered with loose stones which had rolled down from thehill, my horse slipped and fell, cutting both his knees to pieces. I wasobliged to lead him back into the town, and no horse could I get forlove or money, till at length I made a bargain with a peasant fromBachat to change with me, he taking my fine beast on the chance ofcuring him, and giving me this wretched animal in his stead, to enableme to go on my way. It is not, however, an hour since he brought thebeast in. So you see, Sir, I have lost no time."

  "That is enough," said Bernard de Rohan, thoughtfully, "that is enough.I must go on to Grenoble now, however. Come with me; you will not bewanted at Gandelot's inn;" and, thus saying, he rode on to the town,where it was necessary to give his own horse a long time to rest, forthe distance which he had come was more than fifty miles, and the roadsteep, difficult, and fatiguing.

  Judging by the rate at which Isabel was proceeding, it was clear thatshe must reach Lyons before that day closed; for, though she might notaccomplish her purpose of arriving at Vienne on the day before, yet thedistance to Lyons itself was but two easy days' journey.

  Every means that long military experience suggested was employed byBernard de Rohan to refresh and invigorate his horse more speedily, andthose means were very successful, although some of them may appear tous, in this age, somewhat fantastic. Balls of spice were given to theanimal, his feet and pasterns were bathed in red wine, and various otherproceedings of the same kind were adopted with a similar view. It wasimpossible, however, to go on till towards the evening, and even thenthe young cavalier found that it was in vain to seek Vienne that night,as neither his own horse nor that of his attendant could accomplish thedistance. They proceeded as far as possible, however, so as to leave amoderate day's journey between them and Lyons; and on the succeedingevening Bernard de Rohan had the pleasure of seeing the fair city of theRhone spread out before his eyes, and of knowing that there could notwell be more than one day's journey between him and her he loved.

  The great difficulty, however, now was to discover at what inn Isabelhad lodged on the preceding night, in order to ascertain what route shehad followed on her farther journey. Lyons, even at that time, was avery large and important city, filled with inns of every sort anddescription; and, as in those days despotic suspicion had not inventedthe fetter-lock of passports; as there was no tyrannical police, nolicensed spies to whom the abode of every citizen, the sleeping-place ofevery traveller, the movements of every being in the realm were known,as is now the case in France, Bernard de Rohan had no other means ofascertaining the resting-place of Isabel during the preceding night thanhis own conjectures or inquiries made at all the principal places ofpublic reception.

  When he had himself passed through Lyons some time before, he had beenin command of a considerable body of soldiers, and had lodged at an innin the suburb of La Guillotiere. That suburb was not so large in thosedays as at present; but it possessed at that period one of the best innswhich Lyons cou
ld boast of; and, as the servants who now accompaniedIsabel de Brienne were then with him, and he had remained for severaldays there, he judged it not at all unlikely that they might haveconducted his fair bride to the resting-place where they had previouslylodged. He rode, then, directly to the same inn, which was surrounded byits own court and gardens; but the faces that presented themselves werestrange to him; for, among all the mutable things of this earth, thereare few more mutable than the servants of an inn.

  In general, at all the auberges on the road, a man on horseback was sureto meet with attention and good treatment; but, in such a city as Lyons,luxury had of course brought fastidious notions along with it; and thefrequent visits of persons with large trains, ladies in immense rumblingcarriages or clumsy horse-litters, made the horseman with his singleattendant and weary horses an object of very little importance in theeyes of the drawers and ostlers.

  Perceiving some slackness of civility, the young cavalier ordered thehost to be sent to him, and the landlord of the Checkers--for so the innwas called--presented himself, gazing upon the young gentleman at firstas a perfect stranger. A moment after, however, the face of the Baron deRohan came to his remembrance, at first connecting itself vaguely withconsiderable sums of money received, and numerous expensive attendants,horses, arms, banners, _et cetera_; so that his satellites were verysoon surprised by seeing various low and profound inclinations of hishead, as he welcomed "his lordship" back to Lyons; hoped that thecampaign had gone well with him. Gradually recollecting more of thecircumstances, he recalled even his visiter's name itself, and, in tonesof indignant haste, bade the stable-boys take Monseigneur de Rohan'shorses, and the chamberlain show monseigneur himself to the bestapartments of the inn, while he followed, bowing lowly every time theyoung cavalier turned round.

  Bernard de Rohan's first inquiries were for Isabel de Brienne; but thegood host was far too wise and practised in his profession to satisfythe young gentleman fully before he had fixed him at his own inn. Ohyes, undoubtedly, he said, such a lady had been there, and had set offthat very morning, with just such attendants as monseigneur described.He would come back and tell him more, he continued, in one minute, whenhe had merely given orders for a nice little supper to be sent up, andhad seen that the horses were properly cared for. But, when he at lengthmade his appearance, after being absent till the supper he talked of wasnearly ready, and the young gentleman actually sent for him, it thenturned out, of course, that the lady he spoke of was quite a differentperson, some forty years of age, and the widow of some famous marshaldead many years before.

  Bernard de Rohan was disappointed, but he did not suffer his equanimityto be disturbed at finding some little want of sincerity in aninnkeeper. He partook but lightly, however, of the good host's supper;and then, directing the attendant who accompanied him to make inquiriesat all the inns in the suburb where they then were, he himself set outon foot, and, passing the bridge, pursued the search throughout the townof Lyons. That search, however, proved vain; and not the slightesttidings of Isabel and her train had Bernard de Rohan been able to findbefore the sun went down.

  He was preparing to return to the inn, in the hope that his servantmight have been more successful than himself, when, in passing down oneof the long, narrow streets which led from the great square, he was metby a crowd of people so dense that he found it would be absolutelyimpossible to traverse it, and he accordingly turned (little caring whathad caused the assemblage) in order to pass round by the Church of theFeuillans, and make his way homeward by another street.

  The pavement of the good town of Lyons is by no means pleasant or easyto walk upon in the present day, being entirely composed of round,slippery stones, on which the feet seem to have no hold. In those timesit was even worse, for it was irregular in construction as well as badin material; and Bernard de Rohan himself, though strong and active,found it no easy task to outwalk, even by a pace or two, a crowd ofpersons better accustomed to tread those streets than himself. He hadcontrived to get a few steps in advance, however, and had reached thelong, narrow street which passes round by the side of the church, whenhe was stopped, just as he was about to pass down it, by another crowdas dense as the first, by which he was forcibly borne along. The twocurrents, meeting in the more open street he had just quitted, carriedhim forward in the midst of them; and, finding it impossible to escape,he gave himself up for the time, and, turning to a lad who was near,inquired what was the occasion which called so many persons together.

  "Why, where do you come from, seigneur," said the young man, "that youdon't know all this business?"

  "I come from Italy," replied Bernard de Rohan, "where I have been withthe army; but, once again, what is all this about?"

  "Why, I should have thought it might have reached there," replied thelad. "But don't you know they are bringing along Jamets, the greatheretic printer, to burn him in the Place de Terreaux?"

  "Indeed!" said Bernard de Rohan. "Pray what has he done to merit such aterrible punishment?"

  "What has he done?" cried the young man, with a look of indignation. "Heis a heretic; is not that enough? Don't they all mock the holy mass?What has he done? I should not wonder if you were a heretic yourself."

  "No, no, my good youth," replied Bernard de Rohan, "I certainly am notthat. But they were not so strict about these matters a year or two ago,when I went with the army into Italy."

  "There is much need they should be strict now," replied the boy, who, asusual, thought it manly to outdo the follies of his elders, "for thepoisonous vermin have infected the whole place. Don't push so, Peter,"he continued, speaking to one of those behind him, who was urging himforward exactly in the same manner that he was pressing on those beforehim.

  "Get on! get on! or we shall not see the sight," cried the other. "Theyhave taken him on through the lane."

  In a few minutes the crowd began to issue forth into the Place deTerreaux; and, before he could disengage himself, the terriblepreparations for burning one of the unfortunate victims of superstitionwere before the eyes of Bernard de Rohan. A space was railed off in thecentre of the square, and kept clear by guards; but in the midstthereof, at the distance of about thirty yards from the young cavalier,appeared an elderly man, with a fine and intelligent countenance, paleas ashes, and evidently fully sensible of all the agonies of the deathhe was about to endure. He was chained upright to an enormous post orstake driven into the ground, and one of the brutal executioners wasseen fastening the chain tighter round his neck, though another had bythis time lighted the fagots which had been piled up underneath andaround his feet. From time to time the victim closed his eyes, and hislips moved as if murmuring forth a prayer; at other moments he cast awild and fearful glance round upon the people; but, in general, heremained still and quiet, as if striving within himself to subdue thenatural repugnance of the flesh to the endurance of pain and death.

  Bernard de Rohan loved not such sights nor such acts; and as in thatopen space the crowd was thinner around him, he was turning away oncemore to pursue his path homeward, when a capuchin friar approached theunfortunate man, and, holding up a crucifix, seemed to exhort him toabandon his faith. At that point, however, all the firmness which hadsupported him through imprisonment and trial came back, and, waving hishand indignantly, he turned away his head with a gesture of disgust.

  The capuchin raised both his arms towards the sky; and a roar of furiousexultation burst from the people, as the flames, almost at the samemoment, were seen to rise up round the unfortunate victim, and theconvulsive gasp of agony distorted his countenance.

  Bernard de Rohan forced his way on; but, as he did so, some one touchedhis arm from behind, evidently intentionally, and, looking in thatdirection, he beheld, to his great surprise, the countenance of Corse deLeon.

  The brigand gazed upon him for a moment, but without speaking, thenturned his head away; and, recollecting the warning which he hadreceived, not to notice him unless spoken to by him, Bernard de Rohanmade his way out through the people,
and reached the inn just as it wasgrowing dark. He now found that his attendant had been as littlesuccessful as himself in the search for Isabel de Brienne; but thelandlord informed him that a gentleman named the Chevalier Lenoir hadbeen there to inquire for him; and Bernard de Rohan, trusting that Corsede Leon might possess some better means of information than himselfconcerning the course which Isabel had taken, waited impatiently for thebrigand's return.