The Justice of the King
Page 25
CHAPTER XXV
"IT IS A TRAP"
This time no one broke the silence, and for a little space the quietwas like the reverent stillness of a death-chamber. The aweinseparable from sudden death possessed them. And yet, after the firstshock of natural horror, La Mothe was conscious of a great relief. Nottill then did he realize how tense the strain had been, how acute thefear. But at the slow dropping of Commines' bitter-hearted words therecame a revulsion of feeling, and he was ashamed to find a gladness insuch a cause of grief. For the loss to France he cared little. To himLouis had been but a name, the figurehead of state. If not Louis, thenanother, and France would still be France. But as Commines turned awayand, following that other instinct of nature which, in the dumb animal,hides its wounds, covered his face with his arms as he leaned againstthe wall, the lad's heart went out in sympathy to the man who had losthis friend. And surely over and above his greatness of mind there musthave been some deep heart of goodness in the dead man when he movedaffection to such a grief. But at last the silence came to an end, andagain it was Ursula de Vesc who spoke.
"Monsieur d'Argenton, you will, of course, go to Valmy at once?"
"To Valmy?" Commines brushed his hand across his forehead with acharacteristic gesture and paused, hesitating. "Why--I--Monseigneur,have you nothing to say?"
"What is there to say?" answered the boy. "Do you think he loves meany better than he did? Why are you in Amboise at all?"
It was only a bow at a venture, the ill-tempered fling of a petulantboy, but the shaft struck home. Why was he in Amboise? His hope wasthat the full purpose of his lengthened stay at the castle would neverbe known, the truth would ruin him with the new King, ruin him utterly.Hastily he searched his memory how far he had committed himself. Nottoo deeply, he thought, so far as Charles was concerned. Ursula deVesc was of less consequence, and Saxe could always be made ascapegoat. Saxe had lied, Saxe had deceived him, and, except StephenLa Mothe, no one knew how ready he had been to be deceived. PerhapsSaxe had also deceived the father? Yes, he would take that line, ifnecessary; Saxe was the evil genius of them all, but the firstessential was to placate the boy with a generality. Liars andsuccessful diplomatists are rapid thinkers, and no too obvious asilence followed Charles' blunt question.
"Monseigneur, for ten years I have been your father's trusted andfaithful servant----"
"Ursula, I am tired and shall go to bed. Thank you, Monsieur La Mothe,but I do not think you need sleep at my door. To-night I shall besafe. All the same, I would be Dauphin again if it could bring Huguesback. I don't understand what it means to be King; perhaps in time Ishall see the difference. Good night, Ursula. I do not know what theywere saying to you, but they had better leave you in peace. Goodnight, Monsieur La Mothe."
"The King is dead; long live the King! and service to the dead is soonforgotten," said Commines bitterly as the door closed. The significantignoring of his presence had stung him to the quick. It might be saidit was only the rudeness of an ill-taught boy, but the boy was King ofFrance, and the suggestive omission was an evil augury to the hopes ofhis unsatisfied ambition.
"Can you blame him? He is a very loyal boy, and was quite honest whenhe said he would be the Dauphin again if that would bring Hugues back,and as Dauphin he has been miserably unhappy."
"He is very fortunate in your love, mademoiselle." Commines had neverheard Villon's opinion, but it was his own, and he acted upon itpromptly. Win the girl and the boy will follow.
"I loved him for himself and for his unhappiness," she answered simply."But will you not return to Valmy at once? Surely death does not endall service!"
"My duty and service are to the living," replied Commines shortly. "Ishall remain in Amboise. The dead take no offence."
"You will forgive me if I speak too plainly, Monsieur d'Argenton, butthe King was so jealous and, may I add, so generous, it would vex hisghost to think he was so soon forgotten."
"Mademoiselle, I serve France, and to-night France is in Amboise."
"Is the letter from Coictier, his doctor, Uncle?" Hitherto La Mothehad kept silence. He agreed with Mademoiselle de Vesc, but foundhimself in a difficulty. In spite of his gratitude and reverence forCommines, in spite even of his profound belief in his shrewder, sounderjudgment, he revolted from this callous opportunism which abandoned adead master for a new service without the apparent compunction of amoment. Surely the grave should first shut out all that was mortal ofthe old obedience? And yet, because of that unfailing gratitude andprofound faith, he could not join with the girl in her opencondemnation. But crumpling the letter anew, Commines shook his headas if the question was distasteful.
"No."
"From the King's son-in-law, Monsieur de Beaujeu, then? He would, ofcourse, send you word immediately. Or Leslie? or Saint-Pierre?"
But after each name Commines made a gesture of dissent, pushing thepaper into his pocket at the last to end the questioning.
"Not from any of these?" said mademoiselle. "Who, then, has written?Surely the Dauphin has a right to know?"
"Tristan," answered Commines, and, turning, he looked her full in theface.
"Tristan?" she said icily, drawing herself back with a movement whichLa Mothe recognized by an unhappy experience. "You choose your friendsstrangely."
"But he is no friend," protested La Mothe, full of scorn andindignation for Commines' sake at the shame of the suggestion. "Itwould be impossible with such a man. And Monsieur de Commines has toldme more than once that Tristan is jealous of his influence with theKing, and is his bitterest enemy."
"And yet out of all Valmy it is Tristan--and Tristan only--who isfriend enough to send the terrible news to Monsieur d'Argenton? Isthat not strange? Monsieur d'Argenton, you are a learned man; is therenot some proverb about distrusting the Greeks when they bring presents?"
"Tristan would never dare to spread such a report never, never."
"But Tristan's master might. You don't think so? Forgive me if I amsuspicious, but can you wonder, you of all men? In Amboise we havelearned to doubt everything, even the friends who are ready to die forus," and, with a sudden impulse, as natural and gracious as it wastouching, she held out her hand to La Mothe, a wistful, kindlytenderness, deeper than the emotion of gratitude, moistening her eyes.Very gravely he stooped and kissed it with a "Thank God, mademoiselle!"To say more was unnecessary, for in the three words he said everything.It was the formal wiping out of the day's misunderstanding, theknitting together of life-threads torn apart, and where there is such aknitting the union is firmer, closer, stronger, more indissoluble thanbefore the rent. "Monsieur d'Argenton," she went on, the voice alittle tremulous and yet with a clearer ring, "once before, when theKing doubted the loyalty of Paris, did he not spread abroad such arumour that he might test the spirit of the people?"
"Yes, but there was a deep policy in that."
"And is there no deep policy now! Is it for a shallow reason you havespent two weeks in Amboise, or that Jean Saxe has coined his lies withsuch carefulness of detail? May we hear Tristan's letter?"
For a moment Commines hesitated. He had regained his fullself-control, and it was with a growing surprise that La Mothe heardhim debate the situation with Ursula de Vesc as with an equal. But notonly was he impressed in spite of his prejudice against her, but he wastoo shrewd a politician to put aside any suggestion which commendeditself to his reason just because he despised its source. And the girlwas right. If there had been a deep policy in setting afloat the Parisrumour, there was a yet deeper policy now, a policy more subtle,darker, and pregnant with tragedy. Belief in the King's death mightwell loosen the tongues of those who had plotted against him, and theirunguarded triumph furnish the very confirmation which had been vainlysought in Amboise these ten days. While he hesitated Ursula de Vescurged her point afresh.
"Monsieur d'Argenton, in the Dauphin's name I might claim to see theletter, I might even demand and compel it as a right; but there wil
l beno need for that?"
"No need at all," he answered. "This is the letter. As you see, it isvery short:
"'MONSIEUR,--A great misfortune has overtaken us, the greatestpossible. The King is dead. It is being kept secret, but I send youthe warning that you may make yourself secure in Amboise. Notecarefully how the Dauphin takes it. I commend you to the keeping ofGod.--TRISTAN.'
You see it is explicit."
"And Saxe was explicit, but he lied." She was too much of a woman tospare him the thrust, but it was the only revenge she took, and havingtaken it, she sat silent, her brows knit, her fingers playingunconsciously with Charlemagne's soft ears. The dog's head was on herlap, motionless, the gentle brown eyes fixed upon her face. Charlotlay asleep at her feet, breathing little heavy breaths of contentment,as if enough of his brain was awake to enjoy the sleep of the remainder.
"Yes," she said slowly, "I agree that the King's Provost-Marshal isexplicit, but I do not read his letter as you do. Perhaps it isbecause Amboise has made me so suspicious. It is a sorrowful thing tosay, but we have been taught that safety lies in distrust of Valmy. Itis horrible, but it is not our fault, and I distrust now. Tristan isyour enemy and ours. The King, the great King, is not above setting atrap. I think I see a double snare; a snare to catch the Dauphin, tocatch all who are his friends in Amboise, and a snare to catch thegreat King's minister himself. Perhaps it is foolish, I know it ispresumptuous, but let me read the letter my own way; you can show meafterwards where I am wrong. It is clever, but it is the cleverness ofthe man who thinks only of his own interests, who makes no allowancefor love, loyalty, or single-hearted duty, and judges others byhimself. Is that your great King, Monsieur d'Argenton?" and Commines,answering nothing, recognized the life-likeness of the portrait.
"But no!" she went on, "your great King is dead, the letter says so,and this is your friend Tristan who sends you the warning that you maymake yourself secure in Amboise! What does that mean? You know thatbetter than I, but I suppose it means that, first in the field, you maywin the Dauphin's confidence and govern France through the boy. Thatis a great gift from an enemy, Monsieur d'Argenton, and what would theKing say if he were alive? But the King is dead! Then why are you tonote carefully how the Dauphin takes the news? For whose benefit areyou to note it? For your own? But you are to make yourself secure inAmboise! For Tristan's? But how does it touch Tristan? For the King,who is dead? That is absurd. For the King, who is alive? for theKing, who dictates the letter that he may lay hold of some chance wordand torture it into God knows what vile use against the boy? Bearwitness, gentlemen, both of you, there was no such word. And what isthe ending of the letter? He commends you to the keeping of God!Tristan, the hangman, commends Monsieur d'Argenton to the keeping ofGod. There will be much need for His keeping if you make yourselfsecure in Amboise while the King lives. Do you not smell the King'sunctuous, perverted religiosity in that sentence, Monsieur d'Argenton?It is a snare, a snare for us all, and if I were you I would ride toValmy this very hour, though I foundered a dozen horses on the road.Monsieur La Mothe, am I not right?"
"Entirely right," said La Mothe heartily. He might have gone furtherand, following the precedent set by Adam in Eden, have said, "Eternallyright!" for what lover ever thought his mistress in the wrong? Butthis time there was more than a lover's agreement. "Uncle, surely yousee that Mademoiselle de Vesc is right, right every way? If thatscoundrel has lied, then there is a trap set, but if it is the truth,surely your place is at Valmy?"
"Why?" asked Commines, but as he spoke he read the letter afresh,weighing each sentence separately. "Why not at Amboise?"