Vayenne

by Percy James Brebner

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE GATES ARE SHUT

  When Count Felix left the castle he returned to the Place Beauvoisin.Countess Elisabeth turned quickly toward him as he entered the room.She did not put her question into words, but he saw it in her eyes.

  "It is the only way, Elisabeth," he answered.

  She turned away from him without a word.

  "Cannot you understand, dear, that I am a broken man and have nochoice? Do you think I enjoy the sullen temper of de Bornais or thepatronage of this priest?"

  "But you love Christine."

  "She must be my wife. The country demands it. She will hate me, yousay; well, may there not presently lie a way of escape in that? Herpower shall be nominal before we have reigned long together. A womanwho hates is no wife for a Duke of Montvilliers. Do you not see theroad of escape?"

  She laughed.

  "The nominal power will be yours, Felix."

  "How little you know me," he answered.

  "I know you for the tool of de Bornais and this Father Bertrand," shereturned. "The other night in the Rue St. Romain it was plain thatthey only used you for a purpose. They tried to use this Roger Herrickfor their own ends, but he has proved too strong for them. They areforced to plot with a weaker man--with you, Felix."

  "For what purpose?"

  "We are not in their councils," she answered, "nor, perhaps, isChristine, but their aim is not to quietly settle the crown upon you.This Herrick is a man, one who holds what he has, and will fight forit to the bitter end. This plotting you favor can only breed moredissension. It is civil war these men are bent upon."

  "Herrick has made civil war already," said Felix.

  "He fights upon the frontier," she answered. "The rumors areuncertain, but had he been defeated we should have heard certainly ofthat. Ill news ever comes quickly. He wins, Felix; that is the truth,depend upon it, and for such a leader men easily fight and die. Youwill wake one morning to find Roger Herrick at the gates of Vayenne, avictorious army at his back."

  "Then we must fight," said the Count.

  "Fight! Where are your men? The rabble of the city? Are you foolenough to trust to such reeds as de Bornais and this priest?"

  "No. I trust in myself," Felix answered.

  "To-day not a hundred men would raise a cheer for you in Vayenne, thatis why you are to marry Christine. She has scruples in leaving you outaltogether, but she will be Duchess, with all the power held at thepleasure of these two men."

  "You exaggerate their abilities."

  "Felix, answer me one question. How came it that the enemy weregathered on the frontier, ready, waiting? It was not the crowning ofRoger Herrick which brought them. Perhaps de Bornais and FatherBertrand could tell us."

  "You are fanciful, too, Elisabeth. Tell me, how would you have meact?"

  "First fling this plot in the teeth of the makers of it, and then rideout, and offer your sword to the Duke."

  "How absurdly the dearest of women can talk," said the count; "andafterward beg his Grace's sanction to marry the Countess Elisabeth, Isuppose. Are you really serious? Would you have me bend the knee tothis adventurer?"

  "Better that than be the tool of de Bornais. As for marriage with me,all thought of that is over. I told you the other night that yourparticipation in this plot separates us entirely, and for ever. Theplot may fail, indeed I believe it will, but whatever happens I stepout of your life."

  "Elisabeth!"

  "The choice has been yours. To-day you have seen Christine, you havepassed your word. I have already written to Christine for permissionto leave the city. See, here is the letter."

  "No order is valid without the signature of both of us."

  "Poor Felix, how dense you are! You are a tool. You will have to do asyou are bid. The tool has no choice how it will work or what work itwill do."

  The Countess had taken up a definite position. Whatever the Count'sfaults were, he had succeeded in winning the love of this woman, alove that was ready to sacrifice itself in his interests. Elisabethhad never really considered the possibility of becoming Duchess ofMontvilliers, and since it had seemed certain that Felix must be Duke,there had from the outset been a hopelessness in her love. With thecoming of Roger Herrick, however, the whole aspect of affairs hadchanged. There may have been some unreasonableness in her love then,for she hoped that Felix would accept the inevitable. Hope, in fact,had burst into flower. But not only did the Count refuse to acceptdefeat, he was indefinite besides. He strove to serve two ends whichwere totally opposed to each other. He must fight for his rights, hewas obliged to marry Christine, yet he tried to believe that thefuture held happiness for him in the love of Elisabeth. His wholescheme was an impossibility, and the Countess knew it. With this newplot his last chance of definite decision had come; he had made hischoice, and Elisabeth had accepted the inevitable.

  They were still together, although silence had fallen between them,when Father Bertrand was announced. There was eagerness in his face,and his manner had nothing of its usual calm and strength.

  "You were with Mademoiselle this afternoon, Count, but I understandthat nothing absolutely definite was fixed between you."

  "She has not said definitely when the marriage shall take place, ifthat is what you mean."

  "She has spoken definitely now," the priest answered. "It will be theday after to-morrow. Already the news is being spread through thecity."

  "Here is proof of my statement that a tool has no choice," said theCountess.

  "Why this sudden haste?" asked Felix haughtily. Elisabeth's words andthe priest's bearing angered him.

  "Mademoiselle had the fool Jean arrested, but he escaped by means of ahidden rope from the terrace of the South Tower. They are searchingfor him, but he may not be found."

  "He should have been killed, as I counselled," said Felix.

  "The fact remains that he is free, and faithful to Roger Herrick."

  "Ay, Father Bertrand; and since he had wit enough to prepare sounexpected a way of escape you may rest assured that he has wit enoughto find means of communicating with his master," said the Countess."Your bubble scheme is pricked already."

  "Madame, I----"

  "And you will be called upon to pay the price, father," she went on."Words do not deceive me, and upon honest men there is ever a markthat cannot be mistaken. Women may fail to reason adroitly, butinstinct carries them to the heart of the matter."

  "Being a priest, I know little of women and their methods," heanswered. "The day after to-morrow, Count. You will be ready?"

  "Yes," was the answer, given firmly after a moment's pause. Elisabethcame slowly across the room.

  "Until then use my house as you will, Felix, but it is better that weshould meet no more. Your road and mine are not the same. I wish youwell upon your journey; I hope that in strewing it with so many andgreat difficulties I may prove a false prophetess. For my own journeyI have much to prepare. Good-bye!"

  She held out her hand and there was a smile upon her lips. After amoment's hesitation Felix took her hand, held it an instant, and letit go. He did not believe this was a final parting. She spoke no wordof farewell to the priest, but taking up the letter she had written toChristine, passed out of the room.

  "She must be watched. She is a dangerous woman," said Father Bertrand.

  "With her you have naught to do," said the Count, turning to himquickly. "I shall be ready. You have delivered your message. I haveanswered it. You may go."

  Whatever the priest's knowledge of women may have been, he understoodmen. He understood Count Felix. Why should he resent his tone? Hewould fill the part that had been allotted to him. Father Bertrand'smind was full of graver matters than paltry quarrelling. Jean's escapehad brought matters to a crisis.

  Vayenne was full of excitement. Some searched high and low for thedwarf, others made rapid preparation for the wedding. The rabblefilled the cafes and the taverns again, and hung about the corners ofthe streets.

  Jean was nowhere to be fo
und. As he slid down the dilapidated roof themen who had sprung upon the wall recovered sufficiently from theirconsternation to fire at him. Half a dozen bullets spattered abouthim, and it seemed impossible that he could escape being hit; indeed,so suddenly did he drop through a hole in the roof that they believedhe was wounded, if not killed. No man, however, was ready to trusthimself to that swinging rope, and one of the soldiers cut it from itsfastening. At least no one should enter the castle that way.

  No long time elapsed before men were searching the house which clunglike a limpet to the castle wall, but there was no sign of the dwarf.If he had crept into some hole to die, even as a wounded animal will,that hole was not to be found.

  But Jean was not hit, and knowing how soon the hue and cry would be athis heels, he lost no time in getting as far away from the house aspossible. The fast deepening twilight favored him; he knew every alleyand byway in this corner of the city, and he ran lightly, dodginginto doorways and waiting now and again to escape the observation ofsome passers-by. Not many could know of his arrest and escape yet, buthe did not want anyone to see him in this part of the city. He hadalways come here secretly. He had no haunt in the neighborhood wheremen would naturally look for him. The house by the wall, which legendpeopled with ghosts, had served as a secure retreat before now. Jeanreached it unobserved, and waited for more than an hour.

  It had grown dark then, and the dwarf climbed down the face of thewall, and was soon sending his boat with vigorous strokes to thesecret landing-place on the other side of the river.

  Farmer Jacques had not seen him in his motley before, and he laughedaloud as the strange figure came in at the door.

  "Hist, this is no time for laughter," said Jean. "Lend me a cloak ofsome kind to cover myself, and a horse, farmer. I must borrow a horseto-night."

  "The horses have done work enough for to-day."

  "Then one of them has got to do more than enough for once," the dwarfanswered.

  "Art in trouble, Jean?"

  "Ay; though it's not my own--it's the Duke's."

  "Which Duke's?" asked Jacques. "We hear such stories of first one andthen the other that Vayenne would seem to be full of them."

  "The Duke's--the one fighting yonder," answered Jean. "I must ride tohim to-night."

  "Well, for all you're a fool, you're a friend of mine, and have doneme a service before now. You shall have a cloak and a horse, and Jean,come to think of it, the beast that carries the saddle best has had alazy day of it. You'll find plenty of pace in him. And, Jean, I hearda report this morning that the fighting was all over yonder, and thatthe Duke was coming back. Is that true?"

  "My heart leaps at the possibility, friend Jacques," said the dwarf;"and mark, if any come asking about me, you have seen nothing of mefor many a day. If the lie is distasteful, think of the good it willdo your country, and find consolation."

  So, while they searched for him high and low in the city, Jeangalloped away into the night toward the frontier.

  And that evening Mercier returned. He had no news for the men at thegate, no answers to the questions which assailed him in the streets;he went hurriedly to the Rue St. Romain. Father Bertrand rose from hischair as he entered the room.

  "Well, Mercier?"

  "I have been long upon the road. I have had to make my way warily toVayenne for fear of falling into the hands of the Duke. He has manymore friends in the country than we supposed. These papers will tellyou, father."

  "I had hoped for one word--victory," said the priest as Mercier placedthe packet on the table before him.

  "It is some days since I left the frontier, and I have come on foot.Even this news is old, for events are moving rapidly. Read the papers,father."

  Mercier watched him as he broke the seals and read the communicationshurriedly. By the priest's face it was impossible to tell whether thenews were good or bad, but Mercier evidently knew something of whatwas written there.

  "Is it bad news, father?" he asked.

  "It might be better, my son."

  Mercier bent down to him, and whispered:

  "Father, why not leave Vayenne for a little while?"

  The priest smiled.

  "You must be faint, and need rest and refreshment after your tryingjourney, or you would never give such foolish counsel. Does a man turnaside out of the track when the race is just won? These men are notour masters." And he struck the papers sharply with sudden passion."The commands must come from us, not from them. This Roger Herrick isa good man, and I am sorry for him, but he stands in our path, andmust be swept aside even as though he were rubbish. I shall haveothers papers to be delivered presently. Go, rest, Mercier, and haveno fear. Within the city there is safety. Vayenne is living withclosed gates."

  Father Bertrand still smiled as Mercier went out, but the moment hewas alone he turned to the papers again, and studied them carefully.And as he did so his face became grave, and there was an anxious lookin his eyes.