Bardelys the Magnificent

by Rafael Sabatini

  CHAPTER XX. THE "BRAVI" AT BLAGNAC

  I was glad to be in the open once more--glad of the movement, as I rodeat the head of my brave company along the bank of the Garonne and in theshade of the golden, autumn-tinted trees.

  I was in a measure angry with myself that I had driven such a bargainwith Roxalanne, in a measure angry with her that she had forced me toit by her obstinacy. A fine gentleman I, on my soul, to have dubbedChatellerault a cheat for having done no worse than I had now broughtmyself to do! Yet, was it so? No, I assured myself, it was not. Athousand times no! What I had done I had done as much to win Roxalanneto me as to win her from her own unreasonableness. In the days to comeshe should thank me for my harshness, for that which now she perhapsaccounted my unfairness.

  Then, again, would I ask myself, was I very sure of this? And so the twoquestions were flung the one against the other; my conscience divideditself into two parties, and they waged a war that filled me with adepressing uncertainty.

  In the end shame was overthrown, and I flung back my head with asnort of assurance. I was doing no wrong. On the contrary, I was doingright--both by myself and by Roxalanne. What matter that I was reallycheating her? What matter that I had said I would not leave Lavedanuntil I had her promise, whilst in reality I had hurled my threat atSaint-Eustache that I would meet him at Toulouse, and passed my word tothe Vicomtesse that I would succour her husband?

  I gave no thought to the hidden threat with which Saint-Eustache hadretorted that from Lavedan to Toulouse was a distance of some twentyleagues. Had he been a man of sterner purposes I might have been uneasyand on my guard. But Saint-Eustache pshaw!

  It is ill to underestimate an enemy, be he never so contemptible,and for my disdain of the Chevalier I might have paid dearly had notFortune--which of late had been practising singular jests upon me afterseemingly abandoning me, returned to my aid at the last moment.

  It was Saint-Eustache's purpose that I should never reach Toulousealive, for in all the world I was the one man he feared, the one manwho would encompass his undoing and destruction by a word. And so he hadresolved and disposed that I should be removed, and to accomplish thishe had left a line of bravi along the road I was to pass.

  He had counted upon my lying the night in one of the intervening towns,for the journey was over-long to be accomplished at a stretch, andwherever I might chance to lie, there I should have to reckon with hisassassins. The nearer Toulouse--although I knew not this--the thickergrew my danger. Into the very thick of it I rode; in the very thick ofit I lay, and all that came of it was that I obtained possession of onemore and overwhelming piece of evidence against my murderous Chevalier.But I outrun my story.

  It had been my purpose to change horses at Grenade, and so push on andreach Toulouse that very night or in the early hours of the followingmorning. At Grenade, however, there were no horses to be obtained, atleast not more than three, and so, leaving the greater portion of mycompany behind, I set out, escorted only by Gilles and Antoine. Nighthad fallen long before we reached Lespinasse, and with it came foulweather. The wind rose from the west, grew to the violence of ahurricane, and brought with it such a deluge of cold, cutting rain asnever had it been my ill-chance to ride through. From Lespinasse toFenouillet the road dips frequently, and wherever this occurred itseemed to us that we were riding in a torrent, our horses fetlock-deepin mud.

  Antoine complained in groans; Gilles growled openly, and went the lengthof begging me, as we rode through the ill-paved, flooded streets ofFenouillet, to go no farther. But I was adamant in my resolve. Soaked tothe skin, my clothes hanging sodden about me, and chilled to the marrowthough I was, I set my chattering teeth, and swore that we should notsleep until we reached Toulouse.

  "My God," he groaned, "and we but halfway!"

  "Forward!" was all I answered; and so as midnight chimed we leftFenouillet behind us, and dashed on into the open country and the fullfury of the tempest.

  My servants came after me upon their stumbling horses, whining andcursing by turns, and forgetting in their misery the respect that theywere accustomed to pay me. I think now that it was a providence thatguided me. Had I halted at Fenouillet, as they would have had me do,it is odds that this chronicle would never have been penned, for likelyenough I had had my throat cut as I slept. A providence was it also thatbrought my horse down within a half-mile of Blagnac, and so badly did itfounder that it might not be ridden farther.

  The beasts my men bestrode were in little better condition, and so, withinfinite chagrin, I was forced to acknowledge defeat and to determinethat at Blagnac we should lie for the remainder of the night. After all,it mattered little. A couple of hours' riding in the morning would bringus to Toulouse, and we would start betimes.

  I bade Gilles dismount--he had been the louder in his complainings--andfollow us afoot, bringing my horse to the Auberge de l'Etoile atBlagnac, where he would await him. Then I mounted his jaded beast, and,accompanied by Antoine--the last of my retainers--I rode into Blagnac,and pulled up at the sign of the "Star."

  With my whip I smote the door, and I had need to smite hard if I wouldbe heard above the wind that shrieked and howled under the eaves of thatnarrow street. Yet it almost seemed as if some one were expected, forscarce had my knocking ceased when the door was opened, and the landlordstood there, shading a taper with his hand. For a moment I saw theglow of its light on his rosy, white-bearded face, then a gust of windextinguished it.

  "Diable!" he swore, "an ugly night for travelling"; adding as anafterthought, "You ride late, monsieur."

  "You are a man of supreme discernment, Monsieur l'Hote," said I testily,as I pushed him aside and stepped into the passage. "Will you keep mein the rain till daylight whilst you perpend how late I ride? Is yourostler abed? See to those beasts yourself, then. Afterwards get mefood--for me and for my man and beds for both of us."

  "I have but one room, monsieur," he answered respectfully. "You shallhave that, and your servant shall sleep in the hayloft."

  "My servant sleeps in my room, if you have but one. Set a mattress onthe floor for him. Is this a night to leave a dog to sleep in a hayloft?I have another servant following. He will be here in a few minutes. Youmust find room for him also--in the passage outside my door, if no otheraccommodation be possible."

  "But, monsieur--" he began in a tone of protest, which I set down to theway a landlord has of making difficulties that he shall be the betterpaid for such lodging as he finds us.

  "See to it," I ordered peremptorily. "You shall be well paid. Now gotend those horses."

  On the wall of the passage fell a warm, reddish glow from the commonroom, which argued a fire, and this was too alluring to admit of myremaining longer in discussion with him. I strode forward, therefore.The Auberge de l'Etoile was not an imposing hostelry, nor one at whichfrom choice I had made a halt. This common room stank most vilely ofoil, of burning tallow--from the smoky tapers--and of I know not whatother noisome unsavourinesses.

  As I entered, I was greeted by a resonant snore from a man seated ina corner by the fire. His head had fallen back, displaying the brown,sinewy neck, and he slept--or seemed to sleep--with mouth wide open.Full length on the hearth and in the red glare of the burning logslay what at first glance I took to be a heap of rags, but which closerscrutiny showed me to be another man, seemingly asleep also.

  I flung my sodden castor on the table; I dropped my drenched cloak onthe ground, and stepped with heavy tread and a noisy rattle of spursacross the floor. Yet my ragged gentleman slept on. I touched himlightly with my whip.

  "Hold, mon bonhomme!" I cried to him. Still he did not move, whereat Ilost patience and caught him a kick full in the side, so choicely aimedthat first it doubled him up, then brought him into a sitting posture,with the snarl of a cross-grained dog that has been rudely aroused.

  From out of an evil, dirty countenance a pair of gloomy, bloodshot eyesscowled threateningly upon me. The man on the chair awoke at the sameinstant, and sat forward.

 
; "Eh bien?" said I to my friend on the hearth: "Will you stir yourself?"

  "For whom?" he growled. "Is not the Etoile as much for me as for you,whoever you may be?"

  "We have paid our lodging, pardieu!" swore he of the chair.

  "My masters," said I grimly, "if you have not eyes to see my soddencondition, and if you therefore have not the grace to move that I mayapproach the fire; I'll see to it that you spend the night not only al'Etoile, but a la belle etoile." With which pleasantry, and a touchof the foot, I moved my friend aside. My tone was not nice, nor do Igenerally have the air of promising more than I can fulfil.

  They were growling together in a corner when Antoine came to draw offmy doublet and my boots. They were still growling when Gilles joined uspresently, although at his coming they paused to take his measure withtheir eyes. For Gilles was something of a giant, and men were wont toturn their heads--aye, and women too--to admire his fine proportions.We supped--so vilely that I have not the heart to tell you what weate--and, having supped, I bade my host light me to my chamber. As formy men, I had determined that they should spend the night in the commonroom, where there was a fire, and where--notwithstanding the companyof those two ruffians, into whose presence I had not troubled toinquire--they would doubtless be better than elsewhere in that poorhostelry.

  In gathering up my cloak and doublet and other effects to bear them offto the kitchen, the host would have possessed himself also of my sword.But with a laugh I took it from him, remarking that it required nodrying.

  As we mounted the stairs, I heard something above me that sounded likethe creaking of a door. The host heard it also, for he stood suddenlystill, his glance very questioning.

  "What was that?" said he.

  "The wind, I should say," I answered idly; and my answer seemed toreassure him, for with a "Ah, yes--the wind," he went on.

  Now, for all that I am far from being a man of tremors or unwarrantedfears, to tell the truth the hostelry of the "Star" was beginning tofret my nerves. I could scarce have told you why had you asked me, as Isat upon the bed after mine host had left me, and turned my thoughts toit. It was none of the trivial incidents that had marked my coming; butit was, I think, the combination of them all. First there was the host'sdesire to separate me from my men by suggesting that they should sleepin the hayloft. Clearly unnecessary, when he was not averse to turninghis common room into a dormitory. There was his very evident reliefwhen, after announcing that I would have them sleep one in my room andone in the passage by my door, I consented to their spending the nightbelow; there was the presence of those two very ill-looking cut-throats;there was the attempt to carry off my sword; and, lastly, there was thatcreaking door and the host's note of alarm.

  What was that?

  I stood up suddenly. Had my fancy, dwelling upon that very incident,tricked me into believing that a door had creaked again? I listened, buta silence followed, broken only by a drone of voices ascending from thecommon room. As I had assured the host upon the stairs, so I now assuredmyself that it was the wind, the signboard of the inn, perhaps, swayingin the storm.

  And then, when I had almost dismissed my doubts, and was about to divestmyself of my remaining clothes, I saw something at which I thankedHeaven that I had not allowed the landlord to carry off my rapier. Myeyes were on the door, and, as I gazed, I beheld the slow raising of thelatch. It was no delusion; my wits were keen and my eyes sharp; therewas no fear to make me see things that were not. Softly I stepped tothe bed-rail where I had hung my sword by the baldrick, and as softly Iunsheathed it. The door was pushed open, and I caught the advance of astealthy step. A naked foot shot past the edge of the door into my room,and for a second I thought of pinning it to the ground with my rapier;then came a leg, then a half-dressed body surmounted by a face--the faceof Rodenard!

  At sight of it, amazement and a hundred suspicions crossed my mind. How,in God's name, came he here, and for what purpose did he steal so intomy chamber?

  But my suspicions perished even as they were begotten. There was somomentous, so alarmingly warning a look on his face as he whispered theone word "Monseigneur!" that clearly if danger there was to me it wasnot from him.

  "What the devil--" I began.

  But at the sound of my voice the alarm grew in his eyes.

  "Sh!" he whispered, his finger on his lips. "Be silent, monseigneur, forHeaven's sake!"

  Very softly he closed the door; softly, yet painfully, he hobbledforward to my side.

  "There is a plot to murder you, monseigneur," he whispered.

  "What! Here at Blagnac?"

  He nodded fearfully.

  "Bah!" I laughed. "You rave, man. Who was to know that I was to comethis way? And who is there to plot against my life?"

  "Monsieur de Saint-Eustache." he answered.

  "And for the rest, as to expecting you here, they did not, but theywere prepared against the remote chance of your coming. From what I havegathered, there is not a hostelry betwixt this and Lavedan at whichthe Chevalier has not left his cutthroats with the promise of enormousreward to the men who shall kill you."

  I caught my breath at that. My doubts vanished.

  "Tell me what you know," said I. "Be brief."

  Thereupon this faithful dog, whom I had so sorely beaten but four nightsago, told me how, upon finding himself able to walk once more, he hadgone to seek me out, that he might implore me to forgive him and notcast him off altogether, after a lifetime spent in the service of myfather and of myself.

  He had discovered from Monsieur de Castelroux that I was gone toLavedan, and he determined to follow me thither. He had no horse andlittle money, and so he had set out afoot that very day, and draggedhimself as far as Blagnac, where, however, his strength had given out,and he was forced to halt. A providence it seemed that this hadso befallen. For here at the Etoile he had that evening overheardSaint-Eustache in conversation with those two bravi below stairs. Itwould seem from what he had said that at every hostelry from Grenade toToulouse--at which it was conceivable that I might spend the night--theChevalier had made a similar provision.

  At Blagnac, if I got so far without halting, I must arrive very late,and therefore the Chevalier had bidden his men await me until daylight.He did not believe, however, that I should travel so far, for he hadseen to it that I should find no horses at the posthouses. But it wasjust possible that I might, nevertheless, push on, and Saint-Eustachewould let no possibility be overlooked. Here at Blagnac the landlord,Rodenard informed me, was also in Saint-Eustache's pay. Their intentionwas to stab me as I slept.

  "Monseigneur," he ended, "knowing what danger awaited you along theroad, I have sat up all night, praying God and His saints that you mightcome this far, and that thus I might warn you. Had I been less bruisedand sore, I had got myself a horse and ridden out to meet you; as itwas, I could but hope and pray that you would reach Blagnac, and that--"

  I gathered him into my arms at that, but my embrace drew a groan fromhim, for the poor, faithful knave was very sore.

  "My poor Ganymede!" I murmured, and I was more truly moved to sympathy,I think, than ever I had been in all my selfish life. Hearing hissobriquet, a look of hope gleamed suddenly in his eye.

  "You will take me back, monseigneur?" he pleaded. "You will take meback, will you not? I swear that I will never let my tongue--"

  "Sh, my good Ganymede. Not only will I take you back, but I shall striveto make amends for my brutality. Come, my friend, you shall have twentygolden Louis to buy unguents for your poor shoulders."

  "Monseigneur is very good," he murmured, whereupon I would have embracedhim again but that he shivered and drew back.

  "No, no, monseigneur," he whispered fearfully. "It is a great honour,but it--it pains me to be touched."

  "Then take the will for the deed. And now for these gentlemen belowstairs." I rose and moved to the door.

  "Order Gilles to beat their brains out," was Ganymede's mercifulsuggestion.

  I shook my head. "We might be detained for
doing murder. We have noproof yet of their intentions--I think--" An idea flashed suddenlyacross my mind. "Go back to your room, Ganymede," I bade him. "Lockyourself in, and do not stir until I call you. I do not wish theirsuspicions aroused."

  I opened the door, and as Ganymede obediently slipped past me andvanished down the passage "Monsieur l'Hote," I called. "Ho, there,Gilles!"

  "Monsieur," answered the landlord.

  "Monseigneur," replied Gilles; and there came a stir below.

  "Is aught amiss?" the landlord questioned, a note of concern in hisvoice.

  "Amiss?" I echoed peevishly, mincing my words as I uttered them. "Pardi!Must I be put to it to undress myself, whilst those two lazy dogs ofmine are snoring beneath me? Come up this instant, Gilles. And," I addedas an afterthought, "you had best sleep here in my room."

  "At once, monseigneur," answered he, but I caught the faintest tingeof surprise in his accents, for never yet had it fallen to the lot ofsturdy, clumsy Gilles to assist me at my toilet.

  The landlord muttered something, and I heard Gilles whispering hisreply. Then the stairs creaked under his heavy tread.

  In my room I told him in half a dozen words what was afoot. For answer,he swore a great oath that the landlord had mulled a stoup of wine forhim, which he never doubted now was drugged. I bade him go below andfetch the wine, telling the landlord that I, too had a fancy for it.

  "But what of Antoine?" he asked. "They will drug him."

  "Let them. We can manage this affair, you and I, without his help.If they did not drug him, they might haply stab him. So that in beingdrugged lies his safety."

  As I bade him so he did, and presently he returned with a great steamingmeasure. This I emptied into a ewer, then returned it to him that hemight take it back to the host with my thanks and our appreciation. Thusshould we give them confidence that the way was clear and smooth forthem.

  Thereafter there befell precisely that which already you will beexpecting, and nothing that you cannot guess. It was perhaps at the endof an hour's silent waiting that one of them came. We had left the doorunbarred so that his entrance was unhampered. But scarce was he withinwhen out of the dark, on either side of him, rose Gilles and I. Beforehe had realized it, he was lifted off his feet and deposited upon thebed without a cry; the only sound being the tinkle of the knife thatdropped from his suddenly unnerved hand.

  On the bed, with Gilles's great knee in his stomach, and Gilles's handsat his throat, he was assured in unequivocal terms that at his slightestoutcry we would make an end of him. I kindled a light. We trussed himhand and foot with the bedclothes, and then, whilst he lay impotent andsilent in his terror, I proceeded to discuss the situation with him.

  I pointed out that we knew that what he had done he had doneat Saint-Eustache's instigation, therefore the true guilt wasSaint-Eustache's and upon him alone the punishment should fall. But erethis could come to pass, he himself must add his testimony to ours--mineand Rodenard's. If he would come to Toulouse and do that make a fullconfession of how he had been set to do this murdering--the Chevalierde Saint-Eustache, who was the real culprit, should be the only one tosuffer the penalty of the law. If he would not do that, why, then, hemust stand the consequences himself--and the consequences would be thehangman. But in either case he was coming to Toulouse in the morning.

  It goes without saying that he was reasonable. I never for a moment heldhis judgment in doubt; there is no loyalty about a cut-throat, and it isnot the way of his calling to take unnecessary risk.

  We had just settled the matter in a mutually agreeable manner when thedoor opened again, and his confederate--rendered uneasy, no doubt,by his long absence--came to see what could be occasioning thisunconscionable delay in the slitting of the throats of a pair ofsleeping men.

  Beholding us there in friendly conclave, and no doubt consideringthat under the circumstances his intrusion was nothing short of animpertinence, that polite gentleman uttered a cry--which I should liketo think was an apology for having disturbed us and turned to go withmost indecorous precipitancy.

  But Gilles took him by the nape of his dirty neck and haled him backinto the room. In less time than it takes me to tell of it, he laybeside his colleague, and was being asked whether he did not think thathe might also come to take the same view of the situation. Overjoyedthat we intended no worse by him, he swore by every saint in thecalendar that he would do our will, that he had reluctantly undertakenthe Chevalier's business, that he was no cut-throat, but a poor man witha wife and children to provide for.

  And that, in short, was how it came to pass that the Chevalier deSaint-Eustache himself, by disposing for my destruction, disposedonly for his own. With these two witnesses, and Rodenard to swear howSaint-Eustache had bribed them to cut my throat, with myself and Gillesto swear how the attempt had been made and frustrated, I could now goto His Majesty with a very full confidence, not only of having theChevalier's accusations, against whomsoever they might be, discredited,but also of sending the Chevalier himself to the gallows he had sorichly earned.