CHAPTER V
A GOOD DEED COMES HOME TO ROOST
We dashed through the streets of Bidache, arousing the village dogsasleep in the yellow-sunlight to a chorus of disapprobation. About adozen sought to revenge their disturbed slumbers, and, following thehorses, snapped viciously at their heels; but we soon distanced them,and flinging a curse or so after us, in dog language, they gave up thepursuit, and returned to blink away the afternoon. It was my intentionto keep to the right of Ivry, and after crossing the Eure, headstraight for Paris, which I would enter either by way of Versailles orSt. Germains; it mattered little what road, and there was plenty oftime to decide.
I have, however, to confess here to a weakness, and that was mydisappointment that Madame had not stayed to see the last of me.Looking back upon it, I am perfectly aware that I had no right to haveany feeling in the matter whatsoever; but let any one who has beenplaced similarly to myself be asked to lay bare his heart--I wouldstake my peregrine, Etoile, to a hedge crow on the result.
Madame knew I loved her. She must have seen the hunger in my eyes, asI watched her come and go, in the days when I lay at Ste. Genevieve,wounded to death. She must have felt the words I crushed down, I knownot how, when we parted. She knew it all. Every woman knows how a manstands towards her. I was going away. I might never see her again. Itwas little to have waved me Godspeed as I rode on my way, and yet thatlittle was not given.
In this manner, like the fool I was, I rasped and fretted, easing myunhappy temper by letting the horse feel the rowels, and swearing atmyself for a whining infant that wept for a slice of the moon.
For a league or so we galloped along the undulating ground whichsloped towards the ford near Ezy; but as we began to approach theriver, the country, studded with apple orchards, and trim withhedgerows of holly and hawthorn, broke into a wild and ruggedmoorland, intersected by ravines, whose depths were concealed by atall undergrowth of Christ's Thorn and hornbeam, whilst beyond this,in russet, in sombre greens, and greys that faded into absolute blue,stretched the forests and woods of Anet and Croth-Sorel.
In the flood of the mellow sunlight the countless bells of heatherenamelling the roadside were clothed in royal purple, and the browntips of the bracken glistened like shafts of beaten gold. At times thetrack took its course over the edge of a steep bank, and here weslackened pace, picking our way over the crumbling earth, covered withgrass, whose growth was choked by a network of twining cranesbill, gaywith its crimson flowers, and listening to the dreamy humming of therestless bees, and the cheerful, if insistent, skirl of the grasscrickets, from their snug retreats amidst the yarrow and sweet-scentedthyme.
As we slid rather than rode down one of these banks, my horse cast ashoe, and this put a stop to any further hard riding until the mishapcould be repaired.
'There is a smith at Ezy, monsieur,' said Jacques, 'where we can getwhat we want done, and then push on to Rouvres, where there is goodaccommodation at the _Grand Cerf_.'
'I suppose Ezy can give us nothing in that way?'
'I doubt much, monsieur, for the place sank to nothing whenMonseigneur the Duc d'Aumale was exiled, and the King, as monsieur isaware, has given the castle to Madame Gabrielle, for her son, little_Cesar Monsieur_--the Duc de Vendome.'
'_Morbleu!_ It is well that Madame de Beaufort has not set eyes onAuriac--eh, Jacques?' and I laughed as I saw the huge grey outlines ofAnet rising in the foreground, and thought how secure my barren,stormbeaten rock was from the rapacity of the King's mistress.
Jacques came of a rugged race, and my words roused him.
'But M. le Chevalier would never let Auriac fall into the hands of theKing or his Madame? We could man the tower with a hundred stout heartsand----'
'Swing on the gibbet at the castle gates in two weeks, Jacques. Butremember, we are loyal subjects now, and are going to Paris to servethe King.'
'As for me,' answered Jacques, obstinately, 'I serve my master, theChevalier de Breuil d'Auriac, and none besides.'
In this manner we jogged along, making but slow progress, and the sunwas setting when we came in view of the willow-lined banks of theEure, and entered the walnut groves of the outlying forest in whichEzy lay. As we approached we saw that the village was three partsdeserted, and the ruined orchards and smokeless chimneys told theirown tale. Turning a bend of the grass-grown road we came upon a fewchildren shaking walnuts from a tree, about two hundred paces from us,whilst a man and a woman stood hard by observing them. At the sight ofus the woman turned to the man with an alarmed gesture, and he halfdrew a sword--we saw the white flash, and then, changing his mind, ranoff into the forest. The children followed suit, sliding down thetrunk of the tree, and fleeing into the brushwood, looking for all theworld like little brown rabbits as they dashed into the gaps in thethorn.
As for the woman, she turned slowly and began to walk towards thevillage.
'They are very bashful here, Jacques,' I said, quickening my pace.
'Except the lady, monsieur,' and then we trotted up alongside her.
Reining in, I asked if she could direct me to the blacksmith's, forthere seemed no sign of a forge about. She made no answer but stoppedand stared at us through her hair, which fell in thick masses over herforehead and neck. As she did this I saw that she appeared to be ofthe superior peasant class, but evidently sunk in poverty. She wasyoung, and her features so correct that with circumstances a littlealtered she would have been more than ordinarily good-looking. Atpresent, however, the face was wan with privation, and there was afrightened look in her eyes. I repeated my question in as gentle atone as I could command, and she found tongue.
'There is none here, monsieur; but at Anet you will find everything.That is the way, see!' and she pointed down a winding glade, lit uphere and there with bars of sunlight until it faded into a dark tunnelof over-arching trees. I felt convinced from her tone and manner thatshe was trying to put us off, and Jacques burst in.
'Nonsense, my girl, I know there is a smith at Ezy, for but two daysback one of Madame of Bidache's horses was shod here. You don't knowyour own village--try and think.'
'There is none,' she said shortly.
'Very well,' said Jacques, 'we won't trouble you further, and we willfind out for ourselves. It will not be difficult.'
We went on a pace or so, when she called out after us.
'Monsieur!'
'What is it?'
She stood twisting the ends of her apron between her fingers and then,suddenly,
'Monsieur, pardon, I will guide you.'
'Oh! that is all very well,' began Jacques; but I interrupted him,wondering a little to myself what this meant.
'Very well and thanks.'
She dropped a courtesy, and then asked with a timid eagerness,
'Monsieur does not come from the Blaisois?'
'_Ma foi!_ No! This is hardly the way from the Orleannois; but leadon, please, it grows late.'
She glanced up again, a suspicion in her eyes, and then withoutanother word went on before us. We followed her down the windinggrass-grown lane, past a few straggling cottages where not a soul wasvisible, and up through the narrow street, where the sight of us drovethe few wretched inhabitants into their tumble-down houses, as if wehad the plague itself at our saddle bows. Finally we stopped before acottage of some pretensions to size; but decayed and worn, as all elsewas in this village, which seemed but half alive. Over the entrance tothe cottage hung a faded signboard, marking that it was the localhostelry, and to the right was a small shed, apparently used as aworkshop; and here the smith was, seated on a rough bench, gazing intospace.
He rose at our approach and made as if he would be off; but hisdaughter, as the young woman turned out to be, gave him a sign tostay, and he halted, muttering something I could not catch; and as Ilooked at the gloomy figure of the man, and the musty inn, I said outaloud, '_Morbleu!_ But it is well we have time to mend our trouble andmake Rouvres; thanks, my girl, you might have to
ld us at once insteadof making all this fuss,' and bending from the saddle I offered ourguide a coin. She fairly snatched at it, and then, colouring up,turned and ran into the inn. I threw another coin to the smith andbade him set about shoeing the horse.
He shuffled this way and that, and then answered dully that he woulddo the job willingly, but it would take time--two hours.
'But it will be night by then,' I expostulated, 'and I have to go on;I cannot stay here.'
'As monsieur chooses,' answered the clod; 'but, you see, I havenothing ready, and I am slow now; I cannot help it.'
'This is a devil of a place,' I exclaimed, resigning myself tocircumstances, and, dismounting, handed the reins to Jacques. As I didso I heard voices from the inn, one apparently that of the girl, andthe other that of a man, and it would seem that she was urgingsomething; but what it was I could not catch, nor was I curious as tothe point of discussion; but it struck me that as we had to wait heretwo hours it would be well to inquire if I could get some refreshmentfor ourselves and a feed for the beasts. For answer to my question Igot a gruff 'Go and ask my daughter,' from the smith, who turned as hespoke and began to fumble with his tools. I felt my temper risinghotly, but stayed my arm, and bidding Jacques keep an eye on thehorses, stepped towards the door of the inn. As I put my hand on it topress it open some one from within made an effort to keep it shut; butI was in no mood to be trifled with further, and, pushing back thedoor without further ceremony, stepped in. In doing so I thrust someone back a yard or so, and found that it was the girl who was tryingto bar me out. Ashamed of the violence I had shown, I began toapologise, whilst she stood before me rubbing her elbow, and her faceflushed and red. The room was bare and drear beyond description. Therewere a couple of rough tables, a chair or so, an iron pot simmeringover a fire of green wood whose pungent odour filled the chamber. In acorner a man lay apparently asleep, a tattered cloak drawn over hisfeatures so as to entirely conceal them. I felt in a moment that thiswas the stranger who had fled on our approach, and that he was playingfox. Guessing there was more behind this than appeared, but notshowing any suspicions in the least, I addressed the girl.
'I am truly sorry, and hope you are not hurt; had I known it was you Ishould have been gentler. I have but come to ask if I can get somewine for ourselves and food for the horses.'
'It is nothing,' she stammered, 'I am not hurt. There is but a littlesoup here, and for the horses--the grass that grows outside.'
'There is some wine there at any rate,' and I rested my eye on a horncup, down whose side a red drop was trickling, and then let it fall onthe still figure in the corner of the room. 'There is no fear,' Icontinued, 'you will be paid. I do not look like a gentleman of theroad, I trust?'
She shrank back at my words, and it appeared as if a hand movedsuddenly under the cloak of the man who lay feigning sleep in theroom, and the quick movement was as if he had clutched the haft of adagger. I was never a brawler or blusterer, and least of all did Iwish to worry these poor people; but the times were such that a man'ssafety lay chiefly in himself, for the writ of the King ran weak inthe outlying districts. The whole business, too, was so strange that Iwas determined to fathom it; and, unbuckling my sword, I placed it ona table so as to be ready on the instant, and then, seating myself ona stool beside it, said somewhat sharply,
'Enough, my girl; get me some wine and take out some to my servant.This will pay for it,' and I rang a fat crown piece on the table.'Hurry your father if you can, and I will be gone the moment my horseis shod.'
My tone was one not to be denied, and taking up the money she turnedto a cupboard and with shaking fingers drew a bottle therefrom andplaced it before me. Filling a cup I asked her to bear it out toJacques, and then leaning back against the wall took a pull at my owngoblet, and judge of my surprise when I found I was tasting nothingshort of d'Arbois of the '92 vintage!
As I sipped my wine, and speculated how it came there, the girl cameback, and seeing that matters were as before began to attend to hercooking. Whatever she had said to the smith apparently had the effectof rousing him to greater activity, for through the open door I heardthe puffing of his bellows, and very soon came the clang, clang of hishammer as he beat out a shoe.
It was getting dark now within the room, over which the flames of thefire occasionally blazed up and cast a fitful and uncertain light.Outside, however, there was a moon; and, in a few minutes at the most,my horse would be shod and I would have to continue my journey withouthaving discovered what this little mystery meant. I could not helpbeing a little amused at the manner in which my bashful friend, whoseface was so well covered up, kept himself a prisoner in his corner.But at this moment the girl's cooking was finished, and the savouryodour of it was apparently more than he could endure, for he suddenlysprang to his feet exclaiming,
'_Nom du diable!_ I am sick of this, and hungry as a wolf. Give me mysupper, Marie, and if he wants to take me let him do so if he can; hewill have to fight an old soldier first.'
As he spoke I distinctly saw his hand indicate me, and with an alarmedcry the girl sprang between us. It flashed upon me that my gentlemanwas, after all, only some one who was wanted, and that he regarded mewith as much apprehension as I had regarded him with caution.
'Tush!' I said, 'you good people make a great fuss over nothing. Icertainly do not want to take you, my man, and neither you nor yourlittle sweetheart here need be in the least alarmed.'
I had hardly finished speaking when he rushed forward.
'It is the Chevalier! It is Monsieur d'Auriac! Idiot, turkey, pig thatI am to have kept my eyes shut and not recognised you. Monsieur, doyou not know me--Nicholas--your sergeant, whom you saved from therope?'
'Where you appear likely to go again, Nicholas; but what are youskulking about here for?' The wood in the fireplace blazed up as Ispoke, and I saw Nicholas shift uneasily and look at the girl, who hadmoved to his side, and stood with her hands holding on to his cloak.
'This place was my home once, monsieur,' he said bitterly, 'and I havecome back to it.'
'I see you have, sergeant; but why in this way?'
'Monsieur, I was driven to straits and did a thing. Then they huntedme from Dreux to Rouvres, from Rouvres to Anet----'
'Where you appear to have made free with the duke's cellar, eh?'
'It is not so, monsieur,' burst in the girl; 'neither he nor we havedone that. The wine you have drunk was a gift from madame theduchess.'
There was truth in every line of her features, in the fierce littlegesture with which she turned upon me in defence of her lover. I wassorry to let my tongue bite so hard, and said so, and went on with myinquiries.
'And from Anet you came here?'
'It is but a stone-throw,' Nicholas answered, 'and I had a business inhand. After which we were going away.'
Whilst he was speaking Marie lit a lantern, and I saw that myex-sergeant was evidently in the lowest water. He had been a smartsoldier, but was now unkempt and dirty, and his eye had the shiftylook of a hunted animal. He wore a rusty corselet and a rustier chaincap on his head, drawn over a bandage that covered his ears. As my eyefell on the bandage I called to mind the mutilation that had beeninflicted on him, a brand that had cast him out of the pale of allhonest men. Nicholas watched my glance, and ground his teeth withrage.
'I will kill him,' he hissed, 'kill him like the dog he is. Monsieur,that was my business!'
'Then de Gomeron----'
'Is but an hour's ride away, monsieur--at Anet.'
'At Anet! What does he do there?'
'Monsieur,' he answered hoarsely, taking me by the sleeve of mydoublet, 'I know not; but a fortnight ago he came here with a score oflances at his back and the King's commission in his pocket, and helords it as if he were the duke himself. Yesterday a great noble cameup from the Blaisois, and another whose name I know not has come fromParis; and they hatch treason against the King. Monsieur, I can provethis. You saved my life once, and, beast as I am now, I am stillgrateful. Come with me. I wi
ll settle my score with him; and to-morrowyou can bear news to the court that will make you a great man.'
It was one of those moments that require instant decision. I wascertainly not going to assist Nicholas in committing a murder. Anysuch plan of his could be easily stopped, but if what the man said wastrue, then he had given me information that might be of the greatestvalue to me. If it was false--well then, I should have a fool's errandfor my pains, but be otherwise none the worse off. There was no timeto question him in detail; for a second I was silent, and Marie lookedfrom one to another of us with wide-open eyes.
'You have a horse?' I asked.
'Yes, monsieur. It is hidden in the forest not three hundred toisesfrom here.'
'We are ready. Monsieur le Chevalier,' and Jacques' voice broke inupon us, Jacques himself standing in the doorway. My mind was made upthat instant, and I decided to take the chance.
'Jacques,' I said, 'I have business here to-night, which must be donealone. Ride on therefore yourself to Rouvres and await me at the_Grand Cerf_. If anyone tries to hinder you, say that you ride foryour master in the King's name. If I am not at Rouvres by morning,make your way to Septeuil. If I do not arrive in two days, go homeand do the best you can for yourself. You follow?
'Monsieur.'
'Adieu, then; and Marie, here is something as a wedding portion foryou,' and I thrust a handful of gold pieces into her palm, and, beingmoved by many things, added: 'When this is over, you and Nicholas goto Auriac. I will arrange for you there.'
The girl stared blankly at me for a moment, then suddenly caught myhand and kissed it, and then with a rapid movement flung herself intoher lover's arms.
'No,' she said, 'no; take back your gift, monsieur. He will not go.'
'Nonsense, Marie,' and Nicholas gently released her arms. 'I have comeback to you to mend my ways, and must begin by paying my debts. Come,monsieur.'
The Chevalier d'Auriac Page 7