Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman

by Stanley J Weyman

  I was about to return to my seat, when a pursy, pale-faced man, with small eyes and a heavy jowl, whom I had before noticed, pushed his way through the line, and came to me. Though his neighbours were all laughing he was sober, and in a moment I understood why.

  “I am very deaf,” he said in a whisper. “My name, Monsieur, is Philippon. I am a—”

  I made a sign to him that I could not hear.

  “I am the silk merchant,” he continued pretty audibly, but with a suspicious glance behind him. “Probably you have—”

  Again I signed to him that I could not hear.

  “You have heard of me?”

  “From M. Gringuet?” I said very loudly.

  “Yes,” he answered in a similar tone; for, aware that deaf persons cannot hear their own voices and are seldom able to judge how loudly they are speaking, I had led him to this. “And I suppose that you will do as he did?”

  “How?” I asked. “In what way?”

  He touched his pocket with a stealthy gesture, unseen by the people behind him.

  Again I made a sign as if I could not hear.

  “Take the usual little gift?” he said, finding himself compelled to speak.

  “I cannot hear a word,” I bellowed. By this time the crowd were shaking with laughter.

  “Accept the usual gift?” he said, his fat, pale face perspiring, and his little pig’s eyes regarding me balefully.

  “And let you pay one quarter?” I said.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  But this, and the simplicity with which he said it, drew so loud a roar of laughter from the crowd as penetrated even to his dulled senses. Turning abruptly, as if a bee had stung him, he found the place convulsed with merriment; and perceiving, in an instant, that I had played upon him, though he could not understand how or why, he glared about him a moment, muttered something which I could not catch, and staggered away with the gait of a drunken man.

  After this, it was useless to suppose that I could amuse myself with others. The crowd, which had never dreamed of such a tax-collector, and could scarcely believe either eyes or ears, hesitated to come forward even to pay; and I was considering what I should do next, when a commotion in one corner of the square drew my eyes to that quarter. I looked and saw at first only Curtin. Then, the crowd dividing and making way for him, I perceived that he had the real Gringuet with him — Gringuet, who rode through the market with an air of grim majesty, with one foot in a huge slipper and eyes glaring with ill-temper.

  Doubtless Curtin, going to him on the chance of hearing something of the rogue who had cheated him, had apprised the tax-collector of the whole matter; for on seeing me in my chair of state, he merely grinned in a vicious way, and cried to the nearest not to let me escape. “We have lost one rogue, but we will hang the other,” he said. And while the townsfolk stood dumbfounded round us, he slipped with a groan from his horse, and bade his two servants seize me.

  “And do you,” he called to the host, “see that you help, my man! You have harboured him, and you shall pay for it if he escapes.”

  With that he hopped a step nearer; and then, not dreaming of resistance, sank with another groan — for his foot was immensely swollen by the journey — into the chair from which I had risen.

  A glance showed me that, if I would not be drawn into an unseemly brawl, I must act; and meeting Maignan’s eager eye fixed upon my face, I nodded. In a second he seized the unsuspecting Gringuet by the neck, snatched him up from the chair, and flung him half-a-dozen paces away. “Lie there,” he cried, “you insolent rascal! Who told you to sit before your betters?”

  The violence of the action, and Maignan’s heat, were such that the nearest drew back affrighted; and even Gringuet’s servants recoiled, while the market people gasped with astonishment. But I knew that the respite would last a moment only, and I stood forward. “Arrest that man,” I said, pointing to the collector, who was grovelling on the ground, nursing his foot and shrieking foul threats at us.

  In a second my two men stood over him. “In the King’s name,” La Trape cried; “let no man interfere.”

  “Raise him up,” I continued, “and set him before me; and Curtin also, and Fonvelle, and Philippon; and Lescaut, the corn-dealer, if he is here.”

  I spoke boldly, but I felt some misgiving. So mighty, however, is the habit of command, that the crowd, far from resisting, thrust forward the men I named. Still, I could not count on this obedience, and it was with pleasure that I saw at this moment, as I looked over the heads of the crowd, a body of horsemen entering the square. They halted an instant, looking at the unusual concourse; while the townsfolk, interrupted in the middle of the drama, knew not which way to stare. Then Boisrueil, seeing me, and that I was holding some sort of court, spurred his horse through the press, and saluted me.

  “Let half-a-dozen of your varlets dismount and guard these men,” I said; “and do you, you rogue,” I continued, addressing Gringuet, “answer me, and tell me the truth. How much does each of these knaves give you to cheat the King, and your master? Curtin first. How much does he give you?”

  “My lord,” he answered, pale and shaking, yet with a mutinous gleam in his eyes, “I have a right to know first before whom I stand.”

  “Enough,” I thundered, “that it is before one who has the right to question you! answer me, villain, and be quick. What is the sum of Curtin’s bribe?”

  He stood white and mute.

  “Fonvelle’s?”

  Still he stood silent, glaring with the devil in his eyes; while the other men whimpered and protested their innocence, and the crowd stared as if they could never see enough.

  “Philippon’s?”

  “I take no bribes,” he muttered.

  “Lescaut’s?”

  “Not a denier.”

  “Liar!” I exclaimed. “Liar, who devour widows’ houses and poor men’s corn! Who grind the weak and say it is the King; and let the rich go free. Answer me, and answer the truth. How much do these men give you?”

  “Nothing,” he said defiantly.

  “Very well,” I answered; “then I will have the list. It is in your shoe.”

  “I have no list,” he said, beginning to tremble.

  “It is in your shoe,” I repeated, pointing to his gouty foot. “Maignan, off with his shoe, and look in it.”

  Disregarding his shrieks of pain, they tore it off and looked in it. There was no list.

  “Off with his stocking,” I said roundly.

  “It is there.”

  He flung himself down at that, cursing and protesting by turns. But I remembered the trampled corn, and the girl’s bleeding face, and I was inexorable. The stocking was drawn off, not too tenderly, and turned inside out. Still no list was found.

  “He has it,” I persisted. “We have tried the shoe and we have tried the stocking, now we must try the foot. Fetch a stirrup-leather, and do you hold him, and let one of the grooms give him a dozen on that foot.”

  But at that he gave way; he flung himself on his knees, screaming for mercy.

  “The list!” I said,

  “I have no list! I have none!” he wailed.

  “Then give it me out of your head. Curtin, how much?”

  He glanced at the man I named, and shivered, and for a moment was silent. But one of the grooms approaching with the stirrup-leather, he found his voice. “Forty crowns,” he muttered.

  “Fonvelle?”

  “The same.”

  I made him confess also the sums which he had received from Lescaut and Philippon, and then the names of seven others who had been in the habit of bribing him. Satisfied that he had so far told the truth, I bade him put on his stocking and shoe. “And now,” I said to Boisrueil, when this was done, “take him to the whipping-post there, and tie him up; and see that each man of the eleven gives him a stripe for every crown with which he has bribed him — and good ones, or I will have them tied up in his place. Do you hear, you rascals?” I continued to the trembling
culprits. “Off, and do your duty, or I will have your backs bare.”

  But the wretch, as cowardly as he had been cruel, flung himself down and crawled, sobbing and crying, to my feet. I had no mercy, however. “Take him away,” I said, “It is such men as these give kings a bad name. Take him away, and see you flay him well.”

  He sprang up then, forgetting his gout, and made a frantic attempt to escape. But in a moment he was overcome, hauled away, and tied up; and though I did not wait to see the sentence carried out, but entered the inn, the shrill screams he uttered under the punishment reached me, even there, and satisfied me that Fonvelle and his fellows were not; holding their hands.

  It is a sad reflection, however, that for one such sinner brought to justice ten, who commit the same crimes, go free, and flourishing on iniquity, bring the King’s service, and his officers, into evil repute.

  XI.

  THE CAT AND THE KING.

  It was in the spring of the year 1609 that at the King’s instance I had a suite of apartments fitted up for him at the Arsenal, that he might visit me, whenever it pleased him, without putting my family to inconvenience; in another place will be found an account of the six thousand crowns a year which he was so obliging as to allow me for this purpose. He honoured me by using these rooms, which consisted of a hall, a chamber, a wardrobe, and a closet, two or three times in the course of that year, availing himself of my attendants and cook; and the free opportunities of consulting me on the Great Undertaking, which this plan afforded, led me to hope that notwithstanding the envy of my detractors, he would continue to adopt it. That he did not do so, nor ever visited me after the close of that year, was due not so much to the lamentable event, soon to be related, which within a few months deprived France of her greatest sovereign, as to a strange matter that attended his last stay with me. I have since had cause to think that this did not receive at the time as much attention as it deserved; and have even imagined that had I groped a little deeper into the mystery I might have found a clue to the future as well as the past, and averted one more, and the last, danger from my beloved master. But Providence would not have it so; a slight indisposition under which I was suffering at the time rendered me less able, both in mind and body; the result being that Henry, who was always averse to the publication of these ominous episodes, and held that being known they bred the like in mischievous minds, had his way, the case ending in no more than the punishment of a careless rascal.

  On the occasion of this last visit — the third, I think, that he paid me — the King, who had been staying at Chantilly, came to me from Lusarche, where he lay the intervening night. My coaches went to meet him at the gates a little before noon, but he did not immediately arrive, and being at leisure and having assured myself that the dinner of twelve covers, which he had directed to be ready, was in course of preparation, I went with my wife to inspect his rooms and satisfy myself that everything was in order.

  They were in charge of La Trape, a man of address and intelligence, whom I have had cause to mention more than once in the course of these memoirs. He met me at the door and conducted us through the rooms with an air of satisfaction; nor could I find the slightest fault, until my wife, looking about her with a woman’s eye for minute things, paused by the bed in the chamber, and directed my attention to something on the floor.

  She stooped over it. “What is this?” she asked. “Has something been—”

  “Upset here?” I said, looking also. There was a little pool of white liquid on the floor beside the bed.

  La Trape uttered an exclamation of annoyance, and explained that he had not seen it before; that it had not been there five minutes earlier; and that he did not know how it came to be there now.

  “What is it?” I said, looking about for some pitcher that might; have overflowed; but finding none. “Is it milk?”

  “I don’t know, your excellency,” he answered. “But it shall be removed at once.”

  “See that it is,” I said. “Are the boughs in the fire-place fresh?” For the weather was still warm and we had not lit a fire.

  “Yes, your excellency; quite fresh.”

  “Well, see to that, and remove it,” I said, pointing to the mess. “It looks ill.”

  And with that the matter passed from my mind; the more completely as I heard at that moment the sound of the King’s approach, and went into the court-yard to receive him. He brought with him Roquelaure, de Vic, Erard the engineer, and some others, but none whom he did not know that I should be glad to receive. He dined well, and after dinner amused himself with seeing the young men ride at the ring, and even rode a course himself with his usual skill; that being, if I remember rightly, the last occasion on which I ever saw him take a lance. Before supper he walked for a time in the hall, with Sillery, for whom he had sent; and after supper, pronouncing himself tired, he dismissed all, and retired with me to his chamber. Here we had some talk on a subject that I greatly dreaded — I mean his infatuation for Madame de Conde; but about eleven o’clock he yawned, and, after thanking me for a reception which he said was quite to his mind, he bade me go to bed.

  I was half way to the door when he called me back. “Why, Grand Master,” he said, pointing to the little table by the head of the bed on which his night drinks stood, “you might be going to drown me. Do you expect me to drink all these in the night?”

  “I think that there is only your posset, sire,” I said, “and the lemon-water which you generally drink.”

  “And two or three other things?”

  “Perhaps they have given your majesty some of the Arbois wine that you were good enough to—”

  “Tut-tut!” he said, lifting the cover of one of the cups. “This is not wine. It may be a milk-posset.”

  “Yes, sire; very likely,” I said drowsily.

  “But it is not!” he answered, when he had smelled it. “It is plain milk! Come, my friend,” he continued, looking drolly at me, “have you turned leech, or I babe is arms that you put such strong liquors before me? However, to show you that I have some childish tastes left, and am not so depraved as you have been trying to make me out for the last hour — I will drink your health in it. It would serve you right if I made you pledge me in the same liquor!”

  The cup was at his lips when I sprang forward and, heedless of ceremony, caught his arm. “Pardon, sire!” I cried, in sudden agitation. “If that is milk, I gave no order that it should be placed here; and I know nothing of its origin. I beg that you will not drink it, until I have made some inquiry.”

  “They have all been tasted?” he asked, still holding the cup in his hand with the lid raised, but looking at it gravely.

  “They should have been!” I answered. “But La Trape, whom I made answerable for that, is outside. I will go and question him. If you will wait, sire, a moment—”

  “No,” Henry said. “Have him here.”

  I gave the order to the pages who were waiting outside, and in a moment La Trape appeared, looking startled and uncomfortable. Naturally, his first glance was given to the King, who had taken his seat on the edge of the bed, but still held the cup in his hand. After asking the King’s permission, I said, “What drinks did you place on the table, here, sirrah?”

  He looked more uncomfortable at this, but he answered boldly enough that he had served a posset, some lemon water, and some milk.

  “But orders were given only for the lemon-water and the posset,” I said.

  “True, your excellency,” he answered. “But when I went to the pantry hatch, to see the under-butler carry up the tray, I found that the milk was on the tray; and I supposed that you had given another order.”

  “Possibly Madame de Sully,” the King said, looking at me, “gave the order to add it?”

  “She would not presume to do so, sire,” I answered, sternly. “Nor do I in the least understand the matter. But at one thing we can easily arrive. You tasted all of these, man?”

  La Trape said he had.

  “You d
rank a quantity, a substantial quantity of each — according to the orders given to you? I persisted.

  “Yes, your excellency.”

  But I caught a guilty look in his eyes, and in a gust of rage I cried out that he lied. “The truth!” I thundered, in a terrible voice. “The truth, you villain; you did not taste all?”

  “I did, your excellency; as God is above, I did!” he answered. But he had grown pale, and he looked at the King in a terrified way.

  “You did?”

  “Yes!”

  Yet I did not believe him, and I was about to give him the lie again, when the King intervened. “Quite so,” he said to La Trape with a smile. “You drank, my good fellow, of the posset and the lemon water, and you tasted the milk, but you did not drink of it. Is not that the whole truth?”

  “Yes, sire,” he whimpered, breaking down. “But I — I gave some to a cat.”

  “And the cat is no worse?”

  “No, sire.”

  “There, Grand Master,” the King said, turning to me, “that is the truth, I think. What do you say to it?”

  “That the rest is simple,” I answered, grimly. “He did not drink it before; but he will drink it now, sire.”

  The King, sitting on the bed, laughed and looked at La Trape; as if his good-nature almost led him to interpose. But after a moment’s hesitation he thought better of it, and handed me the cup. “Very well,” he said; “he is your man. Have your way with him. After all, he should have drunk it.”

  “He shall drink it now, or be broken on the wheel!” I said. “Do you hear, you?” I continued, turning to him in a white heat of rage at the thought of his negligence, and the price it might have cost me. “Take it, and beware that you do not drop or spill it. For I swear that that shall not save you!”

  He took the cup with a pale face, and hands that shook so much that he needed both to support the vessel. He hesitated, too, so long that, had I not possessed the best of reasons for believing in his fidelity, I should have suspected him of more than negligence. The shadow of his tall figure seemed to waver on the tapestry behind him; and with a little imagination I might have thought that the lights in the room had sunk. The soft whispering of the pages outside could be heard, and a stifled laugh; but inside there was not a sound. He carried the cup to his lips; then he lowered it again.