Falcon 1 - The Lure of the Falcon
Page 46
'I do know, chevalier. None better. The – er – the thing we buried in our chapel – at Mademoiselle de Saint-Mélaine's own express request – was a sack of sand. She made us swear to keep her secret in order to preserve a life which God had saved by a miracle. My wife took you to the chapel this morning to test you and at the sight of your emotion she almost told you the whole. She hurried after you and called to you, but you were already out of earshot.'
Gilles was compelled to lean against the side of the hearth for support. His head was spinning and he was almost fainting, half-choked by this sudden joy coming on top of his previous grief. Judith! Could it be that Judith was still alive?
The Count laughed. 'Well,' he said. 'Surely you aren't going to swoon like a girl? May I suggest we quit this gloomy spot? My men are outside. They will attend to the – er – tidying up. We will go to my house where my wife awaits you, with a good dinner and a warm bed. We can talk as we go. Why, what are you after under the table? If it's a good-looking girl with a black eye who was crouching there with an enormous pistol, let me tell you that she left a good five minutes ago and went running off like a mad thing. I fear I may have frightened her.'
By this time the colour was beginning to creep back into Gilles' face. He managed a faint smile.
'No. But she is like all good soldiers. Once the battle is over, they go back to their billets and no questions asked. I'll go and see her before I leave these parts.'
Once again, the tide was going out. The winter was nearly over and the spring tide, strong and full, was carrying the blue-grey waters of the Blavet out into the Atlantic. Standing not far from the grassy nest where once a little barefoot peasant boy had cast his line, the Chevalier de Tournemine watched the fishing boats with their red sails going out in line to the night's fishing. Everything was as it had been, and yet nothing was the same.
On the other side of that vast expanse of water, he had won all that it was humanly possible for him to win – except love, and that fate had given to him in this very spot. Everything was as it had been, only no flaming hair floated like seaweed on the muddy waters, no imperious little voice was hurling insults at his head.
'Judith,' he murmured tenderly. 'Judith, haughty and pathetic, wise and foolish, tender and cruel – where are you now, Judith my love, while I stand here calling you?'
Who could say for sure? Very far, perhaps, or very near? She had told no one of her intentions. When she left Trecesson, which she did in the greatest secrecy, she had said nothing of where she hoped to find a refuge sufficiently remote to hide her from her brother's rage. But she had let fall one thing, a few brief words that could be significant.
'The safest place should be in the middle of the biggest city.'
And Madame de Châteaugiron had concluded: 'I believe she chose Paris.'
Perhaps it was there that he should seek.
Gilles turned back resolutely to where Merlin was tethered to a tree. On a sudden impulse, he bent his head and kissed the animal's silky cheek. Merlin rubbed his head against him affectionately and showed his great teeth.
'What do you think, old fellow? With the two of us, nothing is impossible and if we have to go to the end of the world to find her, then we'll go! But for the moment, Pontivy awaits us. Let's go and make the acquaintance of the Queen's Dragoons, to which we have been appointed with the splendid rank of supernumerary lieutenant. After that – well, we'll see how soon we can get to Paris and see what's happening there. After all, we've not yet made our bow to our colonel-in-chief, the Queen. That's not something any gentleman can overlook.'
The Chevalier de Tournemine sprang lightly on to his horse's back, to be greeted with a whinney of pleasure, rammed his hat down on his head and set off at a gallop across the heath where the bare feet of a little illegitimate boy named Gilles Goëlo had so often run before.
On the gorse bushes, the first tiny green shoots were showing, the green of hope itself. In the distance, the sweet, melancholy notes of the angelus floated on the sea air which already carried a hint of spring.
Footnotes
1. i.e. from over the sea.