by John Buchan
CHAPTER 7. EAUCOURT BY THE WATERS
The horseman rode down the narrow vennel which led to the St. Denis gateof Paris, holding his nose like a fine lady. Behind him the city reekedin a close August twilight. From every entry came the smell of coarsecooking and unclean humanity, and the heaps of garbage in the gutterssent up a fog of malodorous dust when they were stirred by prowling dogsor hasty passengers.
"Another week of heat and they will have the plague here," he muttered.Oh for Eaucourt--Eaucourt by the waters! I have too delicate a stomachfor this Paris."
His thoughts ran on to the country beyond the gates, the fields aboutSt. Denis, the Clermont downs. Soon he would be stretching his bay ongood turf.
But the gates were closed, though it was not yet the hour of curfew. Thelieutenant of the watch stood squarely before him with a forbidding air,while a file of arquebusiers lounged in the archway.
"There's no going out to-night," was the answer to the impatient rider.
"Tut, man, I am the Sieur de Laval, riding north on urgent affairs. Myservants left at noon. Be quick. Open!"
"Who ordered this folly?"
"The Marshal Tavannes. Go argue with him, if your mightiness has thecourage."
The horseman was too old a campaigner to waste time in wrangling. Heturned his horse's head and retraced his path up the vennel. "Now whatin God's name is afoot to-night?" he asked himself, and the bay tossedhis dainty head, as if in the same perplexity. He was a fine animal withthe deep barrel and great shoulders of the Norman breed, and no morethan his master did he love this place of alarums and stenches.
Gaspard de Laval was a figure conspicuous enough even in that cityof motley. For one thing he was well over two yards high, and, thoughsomewhat lean for perfect proportions, his long arms and deep chest toldof no common strength. He looked more than his thirty years, for hisface was burned the colour of teak by hot suns, and a scar just underthe hair wrinkled a broad low forehead. His small pointed beard wasbleached by weather to the hue of pale honey. He wore a steel back andfront over a doublet of dark taffeta, and his riding cloak was bluevelvet lined with cherry satin. The man's habit was sombre except forthe shine of steel and the occasional flutter of the gay lining. In hisvelvet bonnet he wore a white plume. The rich clothing became him well,and had just a hint of foreignness, as if commonly he were more roughlygarbed. Which was indeed the case, for he was new back from the WesternSeas, and had celebrated his home-coming with a brave suit.
As a youth he had fought under Conde in the religious wars, but hadfollowed Jean Ribaut to Florida, and had been one of the few survivorswhen the Spaniards sacked St. Caroline. With de Gourgues he had sailedwest again for vengeance, and had got it. Thereafter he had been withthe privateers of Brest and La Rochelle, a hornet to search out andsting the weak places of Spain on the Main and among the islands. Buthe was not born to live continually in outland parts, loving rather tointercalate fierce adventures between spells of home-keeping. The loveof his green Picardy manor drew him back with gentle hands. He had nowreturned like a child to his playthings, and the chief thoughts in hishead were his gardens and fishponds, the spinneys he had planted andthe new German dogs he had got for boar-hunting in the forest. He lookedforward to days of busy idleness in his modest kingdom.
But first he must see his kinsman the Admiral about certain affairs ofthe New World which lay near to that great man's heart. Coligny washis godfather, from whom he was named; he was also his kinsman, for theAdmiral's wife, Charlotte de Laval, was a cousin once removed. So toChatillon Gaspard journeyed, and thence to Paris, whither the Huguenotleader had gone for the marriage fetes of the King of Navarre. Reachingthe city on the Friday evening, he was met by ill news. That morning theAdmiral's life had been attempted on his way back from watching the Kingat tennis. Happily the wounds were slight, a broken right forefinger anda bullet through the left forearm, but the outrage had taken away men'sbreath. That the Admiral of France, brought to Paris for those nuptialswhich were to be a pledge of a new peace, should be the target ofassassins shocked the decent and alarmed the timid. The commonwealth wasbuilt on the side of a volcano, and the infernal fires were muttering.Friend and foe alike set the thing down to the Guises' credit, and thedoor of Coligny's lodging in the Rue de Bethisy was thronged by angryHuguenot gentry, clamouring to be permitted to take order with theItalianate murderers.
On the Saturday morning Gaspard was admitted to audience with hiskinsman, but found him so weak from Monsieur Ambrose Pare's drasticsurgery that he was compelled to postpone his business. "Get you back toEaucourt," said Coligny, "and cultivate your garden till I send for you.France is too crooked just now for a forthright fellow like you to doher service, and I do not think that the air of Paris is healthy for ourhouse." Gaspard was fain to obey, judging that the Admiral spoke of somedelicate state business for which he was aware he had no talent. Aword with M. de Teligny reassured him as to the Admiral's safety, foraccording to him the King now leaned heavily against the Guises.
But lo and behold! the gates of Paris were locked to him, and he foundhimself interned in the sweltering city.
He did not like it. There was an ugly smack of intrigue in the air,puzzling to a plain soldier. Nor did he like the look of the streets nowdim in the twilight. On his way to the gates they had been crammed likea barrel of salt fish, and in the throng there had been as many armedmen as if an enemy made a leaguer beyond the walls. There had been,too, a great number of sallow southern faces, as if the Queen-mother hadmoved bodily thither a city of her countrymen. But now as the dark fellthe streets were almost empty. The houses were packed to bursting--ablur of white faces could be seen at the windows, and every entry seemedto be alive with silent men. But in the streets there was scarcely asoul except priests, flitting from door to door, even stumbling againsthis horse in their preoccupation. Black, brown, and grey crows, theymade Paris like Cartagena. The man's face took a very grim set as hewatched these birds of ill omen. What in God's name had befallen hishonest France?... He was used to danger, but this secret massing chilledeven his stout heart. It was like a wood he remembered in Florida whereevery bush had held an Indian arrow, but without sight or sound of abowman. There was hell brewing in this foul cauldron of a city.
He stabled his horse in the yard in the Rue du Coq, behind the glover'shouse where he had lain the night before. Then he set out to findsupper. The first tavern served his purpose. Above the door was a wispof red wool, which he knew for the Guise colours. Inside he looked tofind a crowd, but there was but one other guest. Paris that night hadbusiness, it seemed, which did not lie in the taverns.
That other guest was a man as big as himself, clad wholly in black, savefor a stiff cambric ruff worn rather fuller than the fashion. He washeavily booted, and sat sideways on a settle with his left hand tuckedin his belt and a great right elbow on the board. Something in his pose,half rustic, half braggart, seemed familiar to Gaspard. The next secondthe two were in each other's arms.
"Gawain Champernoun!" cried Gaspard. "When I left you by the Isleof Pines I never hoped to meet you again in a Paris inn? What's yourerrand, man, in this den of thieves?"
"Business of state," the Englishman laughed. "I have been withWalsingham, her Majesty's Ambassador, and looked to start home to-night.But your city is marvellous unwilling to part with her guests. What'stoward, Gaspard?"
"For me, supper," and he fell with zest to the broiled fowl he hadordered. The other sent for another flask of the wine of Anjou,observing that he had a plaguy thirst.
"I think," said Gaspard, at last raising his eyes from his food, "thatParis will be unwholesome to-night for decent folk."
"There's a murrain of friars about," said Champernoun, leisurely pickinghis teeth.
"The place hums like a bee-hive before swarming. Better get back to yourAmbassador, Gawain. There's sanctuary for you under his cloak."
The Englishman made a pellet of bread and flicked it at the other'sface. "I may have to box your ears, old friend. Since
when have I takento shirking a fracas? We were together at St. John d'Ulloa, and youshould know me better."
"Are you armed?" was Gaspard's next question.
Champernoun patted his sword. "Also there are pistols in my holsters."
"You have a horse, then?"
"Stabled within twenty yards. My rascally groom carried a message to SirFrancis, and as he has been gone over an hour, I fear he may have cometo an untimely end."
"Then it will be well this night for us two to hold together. I know ourParis mob and there is nothing crueller out of hell. The pistolling ofthe Admiral de Coligny has given them a taste of blood, and they mayhave a fancy for killing Luteranos. Two such as you and I, guarding eachother's backs, may see sport before morning, and haply rid the world ofa few miscreants. What say you, camerado?"
"Good. But what account shall we give of ourselves if someone questionsus?"
"Why, we are Spanish esquires in the train of King Philip's Mission. Ourclothes are dark enough for the dons' fashion, and we both speak theirtongue freely. Behold in me the Senor Juan Gonzalez de Mendoza, a poorknight of Castile, most earnest in the cause of Holy Church."
"And I," said the Englishman with the gusto of a boy in a game, "amnamed Rodriguez de Bobadilla. I knew the man, who is dead, and hisbrother owes me ten crowns.... But if we fall in with the SpanishAmbassador's gentlemen?"
"We will outface them."
"But if they detect the imposture?"
"Why, wring their necks. You are getting as cautious as an apple-wife,Gawain."
"When I set out on a business I like to weigh it, that I may know howmuch is to be charged to my own wits and how much I must leave to God.To-night it would appear that the Almighty must hold us very tight bythe hand. Well, I am ready when I have I drunk another cup of wine." Hedrew his sword and lovingly fingered its edge, whistling all the while.
Gaspard went to the door and looked into the street. The city was stillstrangely quiet. No roysterers swaggered home along the pavements, notramp of cuirassiers told of the passage of a great man. But again hehad the sense that hot fires were glowing under these cold ashes. Themist had lifted and the stars were clear, and over the dark mass of theLouvre a great planet burned. The air was warm and stifling, and with agesture of impatience he slammed the door. By now he ought to have beendrinking the cool night on the downs beyond Oise.
The Englishman had called for another bottle, and it was served in theempty tavern by the landlord himself. As the wine was brought in the twofell to talking Spanish, at the sound of which the man visibly started.His furtive sulky face changed to a sly friendliness. "Your excellencieshave come to town for the good work," he said, sidling and bowing.
With a more than Spanish gravity Gaspard inclined his head.
"When does it start?" he asked.
"Ah, that we common folk do not know. But there will be a signal. FatherAntoine has promised us a signal. But messieurs have not badges. Perhapsthey do not need them for their faces will be known. Nevertheless forbetter security it might be well...." He stopped with the air of ahuckster crying his wares.
Gaspard spoke a word to Champernoun in Spanish. Then to the landlord:"We are strangers, so must bow to the custom of your city. Have you aman to send to the Hotel de Guise?"
"Why trouble the Duke, my lord?" was the answer. "See, I will make youbadges."
He tore up a napkin, and bound two white strips crosswise on their leftarms, and pinned a rag to their bonnets. "There, messieurs, you are nowwearing honest colours for all to see. It is well, for presently bloodwill be hot and eyes blind."
Gaspard flung him a piece of gold, and he bowed himself out. "Bonnefortune, lordships," were his parting words. "'Twill be a great nightfor our Lord Christ and our Lord King."
"And his lord the Devil," said Champernoun. "What madness has taken yourgood France? These are Spanish manners, and they sicken me. Cockades andsignals and such-like flummery!"
The other's face had grown sober. "For certain hell is afoot to-night.It is the Admiral they seek. The Guisards and their reiters and a packof 'prentices maddened by sermons. I would to God he were in the Palacewith the King of Navarre and the young Conde."
"But he is well guarded. I heard that a hundred Huguenots' swords keepwatch by his house."
"Maybe. But we of the religion are too bold and too trustful. We arenot match for the Guises and their Italian tricks. I think we will goto Coligny's lodgings. Mounted, for a man on a horse has an advantage ifthe mob are out!"
The two left the tavern, both sniffing the air as if they found ittainted. The streets were filling now, and men were running as if toa rendezvous, running hot-foot without speech and without lights. Mostwore white crosses on their left sleeve. The horses waited, alreadysaddled, in stables not a furlong apart, and it was the work of a minuteto bridle and mount. The two as if by a common impulse halted theirbeasts at the mouth of the Rue du Coq, and listened. The city was quieton the surface, but there was a low deep undercurrent of sound, like thesoft purring of a lion before he roars. The sky was bright with stars.There was no moon, but over the Isle was a faint tremulous glow.
"It is long past midnight," said Gaspard; "in a little it will be dawn."
Suddenly a shot cracked out. It was so sharp a sound among the mufflednoises that it stung the ear like a whip-lash. It came from the darkmass of the Louvre, from somewhere beyond the Grand Jardin. It wasfollowed instantly by a hubbub far down the Rue St. Honore and a glarekindled where that street joined the Rue d'Arbre Sec.
"That way lies the Admiral," Gaspard cried. "I go to him," and heclapped spurs to his horse.
But as his beast leapt forward another sound broke out, comingapparently from above their heads. It was the clanging of a great bell.
There is no music so dominant as bells. Their voice occupies sky as wellas earth, and they overwhelm the senses, so that a man's blood must keeppace with their beat. They can suit every part, jangling in wild joy,or copying the slow pace of sorrow, or pealing in ordered rhythm, blithebut with a warning of mortality in their cadence. But this bell playeddance music. It summoned to an infernal jig. Blood and fever were in itsbroken fall, hate and madness and death.
Gaspard checked his plunging horse. "By God, it is from St. Germainsl'Auxerrois! The Palace church. The King is in it. It is a plot againstour faith. They have got the pick of us in their trap and would make anend of us."
From every house and entry men and women and priests were pouring toswell the army that pressed roaring eastwards. No one heeded the two asthey sat their horses like rocks in the middle of a torrent.
"The Admiral is gone," said Gaspard with a sob in his voice. "Our fewhundred spears cannot stand against the King's army. It remains for usto die with him."
Champernoun was cursing steadily in a mixture of English and Spanish,good mouth-filling oaths delivered without heat. "Die we doubtlessshall, but not before we have trounced this bloody rabble."
Still Gaspard did not move. "After to-night there will be no gentlemenleft in France, for we of the religion had all the breeding." Then helaughed bitterly. "I mind Ribaut's last words, when Menendez slew him.'We are of earth,' says he, 'and to earth we must return, and twentyyears more or less can matter little!' That is our case to-night, oldfriend."
"Maybe," said the Englishman. "But why talk of dying? You and I areSpanish caballeros. Walsingham told me that the King hated that nation,and that the Queen-mother loved it not, but it would appear that now weare very popular in Paris."
"Nay, nay, this is no time to play the Nicodemite. It is the hour forpublic confession. I'm off to the dead Admiral to avenge him on hisassassins."
"Softly, Gaspard. You and I are old companions in war, and we do notride against a stone wall if there be a gate. It was not thus thatGourgues avenged Ribaut at St. John's. Let us thank God that we hold amaster card in this game. We are two foxes in a flock of angry roosters,and by the Lord's grace we will take our toll of them. Cunning, myfriend. A stratagem of war! We
stand outside this welter and, havingonly the cold passion of revenge, can think coolly. God's truth, man,have we fought the Indian and the Spaniard for nothing? Wily is theword. Are we two gentlemen, who fear God, to be worsted by a rabble ofPapegots and Marannes?"
It was the word "Marannes," or, as we say, "halfcastes," which broughtconviction to Gaspard. Suddenly he saw his enemies as less formidable,as something contemptible--things of a lower breed, dupers who mightthemselves be duped.
"Faith, Gawain, you are the true campaigner. Let us forward, and trustto Heaven to show us a road."
They galloped down the Rue St. Honore, finding an open space in thecobbles of the centre, but at the turning into the Rue d'Arbre Sec theymet a block. A great throng with torches was coming in on the right fromthe direction of the Bourbon and d'Alencon hotels. Yet by pressingtheir horses with whip and spur, and by that awe which the two tall darkcavaliers inspired even in a mob which had lost its wits, they managedto make their way to the entrance of the Rue de Bethisy. There they camesuddenly upon quiet.
The crowd was held back by mounted men who made a ring around the gateof a high dark building. Inside its courtyard there were cries and therumour of fighting, but out in the street there was silence. Every eyewas turned to the archway, which was bright as day with the glare offifty lanterns.
The two rode straight to the ring of soldiers.
"Make way," Gaspard commanded, speaking with a foreign accent.
"For whom, monsieur?" one asked who seemed to be of a higher standingthan the rest.
"For the Ambassador of the King of Spain."
The man touched his bonnet and opened up a road by striking the adjacenthorses with the flat of his sword, and the two rode into the ring sothat they faced the archway. They could see a little way inside thecourtyard, where the light gleamed on armour. The men there were norabble, but Guise's Swiss.
A priest came out, wearing the Jacobin habit, one of those preachingfriars who had been fevering the blood of Paris. The crowd behind themen-at-arms knew him, for even in its absorption it sent up shouts ofgreeting. He flitted like a bat towards Gaspard and Champernoun andpeered up at them. His face was lean and wolfish, with cruel arroganteyes.
"Hail, father!" said Gaspard in Spanish. "How goes the good work?"
He replied in the same tongue. "Bravely, my children. But this is butthe beginning. Are you girt and ready for the harvesting?"
"We are ready," said Gaspard. His voice shook with fury, but the Jacobintook it for enthusiasm. He held up his hand in blessing and flutteredback to the archway.
From inside the courtyard came the sound of something falling, and thena great shout. The mob had jumped to a conclusion. "That is the end ofold Toothpick," a voice cried, using the Admiral's nickname. There wasa wild surge round the horsemen, but the ring held. A body of soldierspoured out of the gate, with blood on their bare swords. Among them wasone tall fellow all in armour, with a broken plume on his bonnet. Hisface was torn and disfigured and he was laughing horribly. The Jacobinrushed to embrace him, and the man dropped on his knees to receive ablessing.
"Behold our hero," the friar cried. "His good blade has rid us of thearch-heretic," and the mob took up the shout.
Gaspard was cool now. His fury had become a cold thing like a glacier.
"I know him!" he whispered to Champernoun. "He is the Italian Petrucci.He is our first quarry."
"The second will be that damned friar," was the Englishman's answer.
Suddenly the ring of men-at-arms drew inward as a horseman rode out ofthe gate followed by half a dozen attendants. He was a tall young man,very noble to look upon, with a flushed face like a boy warm from thegame of paume. His long satin coat was richly embroidered, and roundhis neck hung the thick gold collar of some Order. He was wiping a stainfrom his sleeve with a fine lawn handkerchief.
"What is that thing gilt like a chalice?" whispered Champernoun.
"Henry of Guise," said Gaspard.
The Duke caught sight of the two men in the centre of the ring. Thelanterns made the whole place bright and he could see every detail oftheir dress and bearing. He saluted them courteously.
"We make your Grace our compliments," said Gaspard. "We are of thehousehold of the Ambassador of Spain, and could not rest indoors whengreat deeds were being done in the city."
The young man smiled pleasantly. There was a boyish grace in hisgesture.
"You are welcome, gentlemen. I would have every good Catholic in Europesee with his own eyes the good work of this Bartholomew's day. I wouldask you to ride with me, but I leave the city in pursuit of the Count ofMontgomery, who is rumoured to have escaped. There will be much for youto see on this happy Sunday. But stay! You are not attended, and ourstreets are none too safe for strangers. Presently the Huguenotswill counterfeit our white cross, and blunders may be made by theoverzealous."
He unclasped the jewel which hung at the end of his chain. It was alittle Agnus of gold and enamel, surmounting a lozenge-shaped shieldcharged with an eagle.
"Take this," he said, "and return it to me when the work is over. Showit if any man dares to question you. It is a passport from Henry ofGuise.... And now forward," he cried to his followers. "Forward forMontgomery and the Vidame."
The two looked after the splendid figure. "That bird is in finefeather," said Champernoun.
Gaspard's jaw was very grim. "Some day he will lie huddled under theassassin's knife. He will die as he has made my chief die, and his bodywill be cast to the dog's.... But he has given me a plan," and he spokein his companion's ear.
The Englishman laughed. His stolidity had been slow to quicken, but hiseyes were now hot and he had altogether ceased to swear.
"First let me get back to Walsingham's lodging. I have a young kinsmanthere, they call him Walter Raleigh, who would dearly love thisventure."
"Tut, man, be serious. We play a desperate game, and there is no placefor boys in it. We have Guise's jewel, and by the living God we will useit. My mark is Petrucci."
"And the priest," said Champernoun.
The crowd in the Rue de Bethisy was thinning, as bands of soldiers,each with its tail of rabble, moved off to draw other coverts. Therewas fighting still in many houses, and on the roof-tops as the pale dawnspread could be seen the hunt for fugitives. Torches and lanterns stillflickered obscenely, and the blood in the gutters shone sometimesgolden in their glare and sometimes spread drab and horrid in the waxingdaylight.
The Jacobin stood at their elbow. "Follow me, my lords of Spain," hecried. "No friends of God and the Duke dare be idle this happy morn.Follow, and I will show you wonders."
He led them east to where a broader street ran to the river.
"Somewhere here lies Teligny," he croaked. "Once he is dead the secondhead is lopped from the dragon of Babylon. Oh that God would showus where Conde and Navarre are hid, for without them our task isincomplete."
There was a great crowd about the door of one house, and into it theJacobin fought his way with prayers and threats. Some Huguenot--Telignyit might be--was cornered there, but in the narrow place only a fewcould join in the hunt, and the hunters, not to be impeded by themultitude, presently set a guard at the street door. The mob below wasalready drunk with blood, and found waiting intolerable; but it had noleader and foamed aimlessly about the causeway. There were women in itwith flying hair like Maenads, who shrilled obscenities, and drunkenbutchers and watermen and grooms who had started out for loot andended in sheer lust of slaying, and dozens of broken desperadoes andled-captains who looked on the day as their carnival. But to the mob hadcome one of those moments of indecision when it halted and eddied like awhirlpool.
Suddenly in its midst appeared two tall horsemen.
"Men of Paris," cried Gaspard with that masterful voice which is bornof the deep seas. "You see this jewel. It was given me an hour back byHenry of Guise."
A ruffian examined it. "Ay," he murmured with reverence, "it is ourDuke's. I saw it on his breast before Coligny's house."
The mob was all ears. "I have the Duke's command," Gaspard went on. "Hepursues Montgomery and the Vidame of Chartres. Coligny is dead. Telignyin there is about to die. But where are all the others? Where is LaRochefoucault? Where is Rosny? Where is Grammont? Where, above all, arethe young Conde and the King of Navarre?"
The names set the rabble howling. Every eye was on the speaker.
Gaspard commanded silence. "I will tell you. The Huguenots are cunningas foxes. They planned this very day to seize the King and makethemselves masters of France. They have copied your badge," and heglanced towards his left arm. "Thousands of them are waiting forrevenge, and before it is full day they will be on you. You will notknow them, you will take them for your friends, and you will have yourthroats cut before you find out your error."
A crowd may be wolves one moment and chickens the next, for crueltyand fear are cousins. A shiver of apprehension went through the sobererpart. One drunkard who shouted was clubbed on the head by his neighbour.Gaspard saw his chance.
"My word to you--the Duke's word--is to forestall this devilry. Followme, and strike down every band of white-badged Huguenots. For among thembe sure is the cub of Navarre."
It was the leadership which the masterless men wanted. Fifty swordswere raised, and a shout went up which shook the windows of that lodgingwhere even now Teligny was being done to death. With the two horsemen attheir head the rabble poured westwards towards the Rue d'Arbre Sec andthe Louvre, for there in the vicinity of the Palace were the likeliestcoverts.
"Now Heaven send us Petrucci," said Gaspard. "Would that the Little Manhad been alive and with us! This would have been a ruse after his ownheart."
"I think the great Conde would have specially misliked yon monk," saidthe Englishman.
"Patience, Gawain. One foe at a time. My heart tells me that you willget your priest."
The streets, still dim in the dawn, were thickly carpeted with dead. Themob kicked and befouled the bodies, and the bravos in sheer wantonnessspiked them with their swords. There were women there, and children,lying twisted on the causeway. Once a fugitive darted out of an entry,to be brought down by a butcher's axe.
"I have never seen worse in the Indies," and Champernoun shivered. "Mystomach turns. For heaven's sake let us ride down this rabble!"
"Patience," said Gaspard, his eyes hard as stones. "Cursed be he thatputteth his hand to the plough and then turns back."
They passed several small bodies of Catholic horse, which they greetedwith cheers. That was in the Rue des Poulies; and at the corner where itabutted on the quay before the Hotel de Bourbon, a ferret-faced man ranblindly into them. Gaspard caught him and drew him to his horse's side,for he recognised the landlord of the tavern where he had supped.
"What news, friend?" he asked.
The man was in an anguish of terror, but he recognised his former guest.
"There is a band on the quay," he stammered. "They are mad and do notknow a Catholic when they see him. They would have killed me, had notthe good Father Antoine held them till I made off."
"Who leads them?" Gaspard asked, having a premonition.
"A tall man in crimson with a broken plume."
"How many?"
"Maybe a hundred, and at least half are men-at-arms."
Gaspard turned to Champernoun.
"We have found our quarry," he said.
Then he spoke to his following, and noted with comfort that it was nowsome hundred strong, and numbered many swords. "There is a Huguenot bandbefore us," he cried. "They wear our crosses, and this honest fellow hasbarely escaped from them. They are less than three score. On them, mygallant lads, before they increase their strength, and mark speciallythe long man in red, for he is the Devil. It may be Navarre is withthem."
The mob needed no second bidding. Their chance had come, and they sweptalong with a hoarse mutter more fearful than any shouting.
"Knee to knee, Gawain," said Gaspard, "as at St. John d'Ulloa. Remember,Petrucci is for me."
The Italian's band, crazy with drink and easy slaying, straggled acrossthe wide quay and had no thought of danger till the two horsemen wereupon them. The songs died on their lips as they saw bearing down on theman avenging army. The scared cries of "The Huguenots!" "Montgomery!"were to Gaspard's following a confirmation of their treachery. Theswords of the bravos and the axes and knives of the Parisian mob madehavoc with the civilian rabble, but the men-at-arms recovered themselvesand in knots fought a stout battle. But the band was broken at the startby the two grim horsemen who rode through it as through meadow grass,their blades falling terribly, and then turned and cut their way back.Yet a third time they turned, and in that last mowing they found theirdesire. A tall man in crimson appeared before them. Gaspard flung hisreins to Champernoun and in a second was on the ground, fighting witha fury that these long hours had been stifled. Before his blade theItalian gave ground till he was pinned against the wall of the Bourbonhotel. His eyes were staring with amazement and dawning fear. "I am afriend," he stammered in broken French and was answered in curt Spanish.Presently his guard weakened and Gaspard gave him the point in hisheart. As he drooped to the ground, his conqueror bent over him. "TheAdmiral is avenged," he said. "Tell your master in hell that you died atthe hands of Coligny's kinsman."
Gaspard remounted, and, since the fight had now gone eastward, they rodeon to the main gate of the Louvre, where they met a company of the royalGuards coming out to discover the cause of an uproar so close to thePalace. He told his tale of the Spanish Embassy and showed Guise'sjewel. "The streets are full of Huguenots badged as Catholics. HisMajesty will be well advised to quiet the rabble or he will lose sometrusty servants."
In the Rue du Coq, now almost empty, the two horsemen halted.
"We had better be journeying, Gawain. Guise's jewel will open the gates.In an hour's time all Paris will be on our trail."
"There is still that priest," said Champernoun doggedly. He wasbreathing heavily, and his eyes were light and daring. Like all hiscountrymen, he was slow to kindle but slower to cool.
"In an hour, if we linger here, we shall be at his mercy. Let us headfor the St. Antoine gate."
The jewel made their way easy, for through that gate Henry of Guisehimself had passed in the small hours. "Half an hour ago," thelieutenant of the watch told them, "I opened to another party which borethe Duke's credentials. They were for Amiens to spread the good news."
"Had they a priest with them?"
"Ay, a Jacobin monk, who cried on them to hasten and not spare theirhorses. He said there was much to do in the north."
"I think the holy man spoke truth," said Gaspard, and they rode intoopen country.
They broke their fast on black bread and a cup of wine at the first inn,where a crowd of frightened countrymen were looking in the direction ofParis. It was now about seven o'clock, and a faint haze, which promisedheat, cloaked the ground. From it rose the towers and high-peaked roofsof the city, insubstantial as a dream.
"Eaucourt by the waters!" sighed Gaspard. "That the same land shouldhold that treasure and this foul city!"
Their horses, rested and fed, carried them well on the north road,but by ten o'clock they had overtaken no travellers, save a couple ofservants, on sorry nags, who wore the Vidame of Amiens' livery. Theywere well beyond Oise ere they saw in the bottom of a grassy vale alittle knot of men.
"I make out six," said Champernoun, who had a falcon's eye. "Two priestsand four men-at-arms. Reasonable odds, such as I love. Faith, that monktravels fast!"
"I do not think there will be much fighting," said Gaspard.
Twenty minutes later they rode abreast of the party, which at first hadwheeled round on guard, and then had resumed its course at the sightof the white armlets. It was as Champernoun had said. Four lustyarquebusiers escorted the Jacobin. But the sixth man was no priest. Hewas a Huguenot minister whom Gaspard remembered with Conde's army, anelderly frail man bound with cruel thongs to a horse's back and his legstethered beneath its
belly.
Recognition awoke in the Jacobin's eye. "Ah, my lords of Spain! Whatbrings you northward?"
Gaspard was by his side, while Champernoun a pace behind was abreast theminister.
"To see the completion of the good work begun this morning."
"You have come the right road. I go to kindle the north to a holyemulation. That heretic dog behind is a Picard, and I bring him toAmiens that he may perish there as a warning to his countrymen."
"So?" said Gaspard, and at the word the Huguenot's horse, prickedstealthily by Champernoun's sword, leaped forward and dashed in frightup the hill, its rider sitting stiff as a doll in his bonds. The Jacobincried out and the soldiers made as if to follow, but Gaspard's voicechecked them. "Let be. The beast will not go far. I have matters ofimportance to discuss with this reverend father."
The priest's face sharpened with a sudden suspicion. "Your manners aresomewhat peremptory, sir Spaniard. But speak and let us get on."
"I have only the one word. I told you we had come north to see thefruition of the good work, and you approved. We do not mean the same.By good work I mean that about sunrise I slew with this sword the manPetrucci, who slew the Admiral. By its fruition I mean that I have cometo settle with you."
"You...?" the other stammered.
"I am Gaspard de Laval, a kinsman and humble follower of Goligny."
The Jacobin was no coward. "Treason!" he cried. "A Huguenot! Cut themdown, my men," and he drew a knife from beneath his robe.
But Gaspard's eye and voice checked the troopers. He held in his handthe gold trinket. "I have no quarrel with you. This is the passport ofyour leader, the Duke. I show it to you, and if you are questioned aboutthis day's work you can reply that you took your orders from him whocarried Guise's jewel. Go your ways back to Paris if you would avoidtrouble."
Two of the men seemed to waver, but the maddened cry of the priestdetained them. "They seek to murder me," he screamed. "Would youdesert God's Church and burn in torment for ever?" He hurled himself onGaspard, who caught his wrist so that the knife tinkled on the high roadwhile the man overbalanced himself and fell. The next second the mellayhad begun.
It did not last long. The troopers were heavy fellows, cumbrously armed,who, even with numbers on their side, stood little chance against twoswift swordsmen, who had been trained to fight together against odds.One Gaspard pulled from the saddle so that he lay senseless on theground. One Champernoun felled with a sword cut of which no morion couldbreak the force. The two others turned tail and fled, and the last seenof them was a dust cloud on the road to Paris.
Gaspard had not drawn his sword. They stood by the bridge of a littleriver, and he flung Guise's jewel far into its lilied waters.
"A useful bauble," he smiled, "but its purpose is served."
The priest stood in the dust, with furious eyes burning in an ashenface.
"What will you do with me?"
"This has been your day of triumph, father. I would round it offworthily by helping you to a martyr's crown. Gawain," and he turned tohis companion, "go up the road and fetch me the rope which binds theminister."
The runaway was feeding peaceably by the highway. Champernoun cut theold man's bonds, and laid him fainting on the grass. He brought backwith him a length of stout cord.
"Let the brute live," he said. "Duck him and truss him up, but don'tdirty your hands with him. I'd as lief kill a woman as a monk."
But Gaspard's smiling face was a rock. "This is no Englishman's concern.To-day's shame is France's and a Frenchman alone can judge it. Innocentblood is on this man's hands, and it is for me to pay the firstinstalment of justice. The rest I leave to God."
So when an hour later the stunned troopers recovered their senses theyfound a sight which sent them to their knees to patter prayers. For overthe arch of the bridge dangled the corpse of the Jacobin. And on itsbreast it bore a paper setting forth that this deed had been done byGaspard de Laval, and the Latin words "O si sic omnes!"
Meantime far up in the folds of the Santerre a little party was movingthrough the hot afternoon. The old Huguenot, shaken still by his roughhandling, rode as if in a trance. Once he roused himself and asked aboutthe monk.
"I hanged him like a mad dog," said Gaspard.
The minister shook his head. "Violence will not cure violence."
"Nay, but justice may follow crime. I am no Nicodemite. This day I havemade public confession of my faith, and abide the consequences. Fromthis day I am an exile from France so long as it pleases God to make HisChurch an anvil for the blows of His enemies."
"I, too, am an exile," said the old man. "If I come safe to Calais Ishall take ship for Holland and find shelter with the brethren there.You have preserved my life for a few more years in my master's vineyard.You say truly, young sir, that God's Church is now an anvil, butremember for your consolation that it is an anvil which has worn outmany hammers."
Late in the evening they came over a ridge and looked down on a shallowvalley all green and gold in the last light. A slender river twined byalder and willow through the meadows. Gaspard reined in his horse andgazed on the place with a hand shading his eyes.
"I have slain a man to my hurt," he said. "See, there are my newfishponds half made, and the herb garden, and the terrace that gets themorning sun. There is the lawn which I called my quarter-deck, the placeto walk of an evening. Farewell, my little grey dwelling."
Champernoun laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.
"We will find you the mate of it in Devon, old friend," he said.
But Gaspard was not listening. "Eaucourt by the waters," he repeatedlike the refrain of a song, and his eyes were full of tears.