CHAPTER VII
THE END OF A RACE FOR LIFE
The wounded man had fainted, and lay a dead weight in Herrick's arms.It was no easy task to hold him securely in his place and at the sametime urge the horse forward at its topmost speed. Herrick knew thatthis must be a race for life, yet his heart leaped with excitement asthe splendidly powerful animal he rode made light of its doubleburden, and with neck outstretched went on at a swinging gallop. ToHerrick's surprise and relief no further shots were fired. The men whofollowed had only revolvers, probably, and the distance was too greatfor them to be effective. On they went, the trees by the waysideliterally flashing past them, the long road before them with never aturning to right or left. Glancing back, Herrick saw that at leasthalf a dozen men followed, all well mounted, and riding as thoughprepared for a long stern chase. For some time the distance betweenhunted and hunters did not seem to lessen at all. This was something,but it was not enough. There was no shortening in his horse's strideas yet, but the double burden would certainly tell its tale presently.How long was the race to last, and where was the goal of safety? Sincethey were upon a road at right angles to the one by which thecavalcade had entered the forest, Herrick knew that they might havemany miles to traverse before they reached the open country. When theyhad entered the forest he had noted how it stretched away on eitherside, and that the chase should happen here instead of in the openhad its advantages. If he could distance his pursuers sufficiently, hemight chance upon some deep green glade down which safety might befound. In the open, it was true, some town, or village, or other placeof refuge might present itself, but who could say that, for the youngDuke, escape from one enemy might only mean falling into the hands ofanother? Though no fatalist, Roger Herrick had a creed that what was,was best; that come life or death, the circumstances mattered littleso that honor was clean. Fear touches such a man with difficulty, andhe is ever good friend or dangerous enemy, as the chance may be. Andwhere there is no hampering fear, no vain longing for differentcircumstances and thought of what might be done in them, a man'sresourcefulness has full play. This race was on a forest road,therefore Herrick's whole mind was concentrated on how this fact mightbe used to advantage. There was a turn in the road in the far distancethat might be in his favor, since for a few moments, at least, hewould be out of sight of his pursuers. Round such a bend in the roadit might be possible to plunge suddenly into the depths of the forest.By the roadside, too, there was now a strip of turf, another point inhis favor, for the sound of the beating hoofs of his horse would bedeadened to those behind.
As Herrick turned his horse on to the turf he glanced back. It wouldseem that his pursuers were conscious that he had a chance of escape,for they were riding hard now, and the distance between hunters andhunted had lessened materially. One man, indeed, mounted upon a speedyanimal, was overhauling him rapidly. In a few moments he would beclose enough to fire. Such a risk must be avoided at all hazards.Herrick shifted the position of the unconscious man a little, so thathe could have his right arm free, but the movement had the effect ofslackening his horse's pace for an instant. The man behind noticedthis and shouted to his companions in a triumph which was short-lived,for Herrick had turned and fired at the horse, which reared upsuddenly, beating the air with its forelegs for a moment, and thenrolled over with his rider. The shot startled his own horse, and heplunged forward, sweeping round the bend of the road with as gallant astride as that with which he had begun the race. The road turned againto the left, then sharply around to the right to avoid a suddenshoulder of rising ground, and beyond there was a dip in the forest, anarrow, winding way going down into thick undergrowth. It was not apath Herrick would have chosen, but the winding road might lead thepursuers to suppose their quarry was still in front of them, and hecould feel that the double weight was beginning to tell upon hishorse. His stride had quickly shortened after the sudden burst onbeing startled by the revolver shot.
As Herrick plunged deeper into the undergrowth, he heard his pursuersgallop past. There was no knowing for how long they would be deceived.Two hundred yards of straight road would betray his subterfuge atonce, and how near that piece of straight road might be Herrick didnot know. He rode his horse deeply into the thicket, and then turnedalong a narrow green glade which ran back parallel with the way theyhad come. For some while he followed this path, scheming as he went.When the disappointed hunters returned they would almost certainlydiscover this way. How could he deceive them? He urged his horse intoa gallop again.
"We will win now, my gallant beauty," he whispered. He checked himpresently, and turned sharply from the path in the direction of theroad, letting the horse walk carefully among the fallen leaves. Whenhe saw the road, Herrick halted and listened. Save for the murmur ofwind in the trees there was no sound. He walked the horse to the edgeof the road, and looked to right and left. There was no one in sight,so he crossed it and plunged quickly among the trees on the oppositeside.
All this while, so far as he could tell, the wounded man had neitheruttered a sound nor made a voluntary movement. Herrick now began towonder whether he had been carrying a dead man before him. The roadwaywas left far behind them, for a time at least they were safe; andcoming to a small opening, across which a little brook ran its narrow,bubbling course, Herrick dismounted, and, laying the young Duke on thegrass, began to examine him. The bullet had passed through his arm andtorn an ugly wound in his side. It had bled freely, and Herrick didnot think the bullet had lodged in the body. He had laid him down uponthe bank of the brook, and made shift to cleanse the wound as best hecould, with naught to hold water but his hands, held cupwise. Hebathed his face, too, and contrived to get a little trickle of waterbetween his lips.
With a sigh Maurice opened his eyes presently, but did not speak. Helooked at Herrick without any recognition in his look, and then heclosed his eyes again. The horse had gone to a little distance, wherea break in the bank enabled him to get at the water and drink; now hecame back, and nosed the prostrate man, perhaps looking for a caressfor his part in the day's work. The touch roused Maurice again.
"Where's Christine?" he murmured.
"Safe with Gaspard Lemasle."
"Who are you?"
"Roger Herrick."
"I don't seem to remember," he answered feebly.
"You have been wounded," Herrick answered. "I will dress it as best Ican, and then----"
"Yes; then call Christine."
Herrick tore out the sleeve from his own shirt. He could bind up thewound after a fashion, but what was he to do then? It was evident thathis companion was not in a state to be carried farther on horseback,and where was he to get succor? They could hardly hope to remain therelong undiscovered, and which way to go for help Herrick did not know.They had no food, either, of any sort. Even if the wounded man becameconscious enough to know the dire straits they were in, it wasdoubtful whether he knew anything about the forest roads. Had he notbeen a virtual prisoner at Passey for years?
As he was binding the linen round the wounded arm he glanced atMaurice to see if he winced with pain. His eyes were open, staring notat him, but beyond him, in that uncanny fashion which compels one toturn and see upon what such a look is fixed. Herrick was turning whenhis arms were suddenly seized from behind and a cord drawn tightlyround them, while rough hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him onto his back.
"Tie his feet, too," said a man, suddenly springing across the brook."Whom have we here?"
"A wounded man," said Herrick, without attempting to struggle. Hemight want all his strength for that presently.
"Ay; and for a priest you're a poor hand with a wounded man," was theanswer.
For a moment Herrick thought they had fallen into the hands of theirpursuers after all, but as a score of men surrounded them he saw theywere not those who had attacked them at the clearing. This surely wasa band of real robbers.
The man who had stooped down to look steadily into Maurice's facesuddenly stood upright.
"Quick
! Fetch the old mother," he said excitedly to a youth near him;and then looking down at Herrick he said, "Who is he?"
"A wounded man. I never saw him before to-day."
"How came he thus and how did you come into his company?"
"An attack in the forest, and I helped him to escape. It was a smallaffair; but if you have skill in such matters, pray bind up his woundswithout delay. He is weak from loss of blood."
The youth returned, hurrying forward an old woman with bent form, andchin and nose which nearly met, as they seemed to peck at each othercontinually.
"Mother, look into this man's face," said the man who seemed chief ofthis forest band.
"Ay, sore hurt he is," said the old hag, bending over him, "but I havesalves--I have salves."
"But his face, mother; who is he?"
"A wounded man In a forest lay, Who the fates decree Shall be Duke one day,"
chanted the old woman in a piping key. "I saw it all as the flame diedout of my fire last night. I have salves; let me fetch them. There ismoney, much money in this."
"Mother, is it not he of Passey?"
"Who the fates decree Shall be Duke one day.
"Let me go. Would you have him die when there is so much money in theair?"
The robbers were evidently half afraid of this old beldame, whoprobably found her pretended witchcraft and doggerel rhymesprofitable.
"The mother speaks truly," said Herrick. "It is he of Passey. Dukeeven now, and there is much money for those who help him."
"You said you never saw him before to-day."
"I spoke truly also."
The man turned away, and, beckoning the other men round him, talkedeagerly for a few moments, and with many gesticulations. When the oldwoman returned, some of the men went quickly into the wood, and thechief turned to her.
"Quickly, mother, and so that he may travel."
"Whither?"
The man stretched out his arm.
"Cannot you see the money in that direction?"
"Ay, if you can reach it, plenty of it; but that is not the road toVayenne, and there is money that way, too," said the woman, bendingover her work.
"As much?" queried the man.
"Why ask? Is it not the Vayenne road he must take so that he may beDuke one day?"
"Make up another riddle against that time, mother, and read my fate."
"It would put the fear of God in thee, Simon; thou art best inignorance."
The man turned away with an uneasy laugh. He, too, feared the oldwoman, although he would not have it appear so. He stopped to lookdown at Herrick.
"What can we do with the priest?" he murmured to himself, but not sosoftly that another behind him did not hear.
"Why not knife him?"
"Ay; why not?"
"The mother loves not such," urged the man, "and alive he will bedangerous."
"I like not knifing a man when the blood is cold in me," Simonanswered.
"I'll do it, I have no such sentiment."
"Time enough," Simon said. "Besides, since he helps this scholar ofPassey, he's no friend to him of Vayenne." And then, turning toHerrick, he went on: "I marked you when you came to the brook; yourode not like a priest."
"What matter how I rode so we have fallen among friends?" saidHerrick.
"Friends? Hardly that; but at least we would not let the wounded mandie. Dead he is but carrion as any other man; alive he is worth muchgold. There are those beyond Montvilliers who will pay handsomely forhim."
"Beyond Montvilliers! You would sell him into the hands of hiscountry's enemies? That were traitor's work indeed!"
"The country's rulers would hang me to the first tree if they caughtme. To-day the game is mine; to-morrow----" And he snapped his fingersand laughed.
He walked away, and soon afterward the men who had gone into the woodsreturned with a rough litter. Into this the young Duke was carefullylifted, and whether he were conscious or not Herrick could not tell.These traitors would keep him alive if they could; at least there wasmore hope with them than with those others who were bent on slayinghim, and Herrick found what consolation he could in the thought.
Lifting his head to watch what was happening about the litter, he hadnot heard any one approach him until he found the old hag bending overhim. Behind her stood the man who wished to knife him. They had comeupon him stealthily, so that Simon should not stay their crime,Herrick supposed, and he gave himself up for lost. Indeed, he saw theknife in the man's hand.
"This one has no hurt," said the old woman, bending over him.
"Not yet, mother. Is he to live to tell of what we do?"
"Give me a moment, my son," she answered, and closed her eyes.
"Quickly, mother, or Simon will save him. He likes not the deed, buthe will be glad enough when it is done."
Herrick was conscious that a shout might save him; yet he did notutter it. The face of the hag seemed to fascinate him with its closedeyes, so hollow that they were almost like empty sockets, and itsmumbling mouth and pecking nose and chin.
"Quick, mother!" said the man impatiently.
"I cannot see him dead, my son, yet cannot I follow his course. Put upthe knife. He must be left to chance."
"Curse the fates that mock you," said the man in a rage.
"Mock me!" screamed the hag, striking him across the face with herbony hand. "Mock me--me! Get you gone, or I'll set the finger of deathon you or ever the year is out. Simon, I say, Simon! This sham priestmust be left to the will of Fate. I have said it."
Simon, who had mounted Herrick's horse, made a sign and three mencarried Herrick to a tree at the edge of the open. To this they boundhim in an upright position, winding and knotting the rope tightly fromhis feet upward--so tightly that he could not move an inch either way.The end of the rope they wound round his throat but loosely.
"Fate must set you free if she will," said the hag.
Simon did not look at him. It seemed to Herrick that he would notwillingly have treated him thus, but that fear of the old womancompelled him. He set the man who had wished to use the knife to beone of the litter-bearers, that he might have no chance of returningand doing the captive harm.
"March!" he said, and placing himself at the head of the band he ledthem through the trees, following no path but in the direction he hadpointed, the way where much money lay, and which did not lead toVayenne.
The hag stood by the brook watching them go, stood there for some timeafter the last of them had disappeared among the trees; then sheentered the forest in the opposite direction, mumbling andgesticulating as she went.
Save for the wind in the trees there was no sound, and even the windsank presently into silence. Twilight came, then darkness. A numbnesscrept through Herrick's frame, and there was a strange singing in hishead. His throat was parched, for in ministering to his woundedcomrade he had forgotten to drink himself. Then came intervals offorgetfulness, then clear consciousness again, and a feeble effort tofree himself. In the little patch of night sky overhead shone a star,the North Star surely. That way lay England--home--and in a moment allhis life seemed to flash past him. Was it his throat that swelled, orwas it that the rope was tightening? Then came oblivion!
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