Complete Works of Stanley J Weyman

by Stanley J Weyman

  “Of boxwood?” I exclaimed, astonished.

  “Ay, is it not?” he asked, looking at me with much simplicity.

  “No!” I made answer rather peevishly. “Who ever heard of people burning boxwood in Paris, father? In the south, perhaps.”

  He apologized for his ignorance on the ground of his southern birth, and took his departure, leaving me in doubt as to the real purport of his visit. I was, indeed, more troubled by the uncertainty I felt than another less conversant with the methods of the Jesuits might have been; for I knew that it was their habit to drop a word where they dared not speak plainly, and I felt myself put on my mettle to interpret the father’s hint. My perplexities were increased by the belief that he would not have intervened in a matter of small moment; hence the conviction grew upon me that while I stood idle before the hearth, the greatest interests might be at stake.

  “Michel,” I said at last, addressing the doyen of my secretaries, who chanced to be a Provençal “have you ever seen a boxwood fire?”

  He replied respectfully, but with some show of surprise, that he had done so, but not often; adding that that wood was so valuable to the turner that few people were extravagant enough to use it for fuel. I assented, and felt the more certain that the Jesuit’s remark held a meaning. The only other clue I had consisted in the mistake he had made as to the King’s residence; and this might have dropped from him in inadvertence. Yet I was inclined to think it intentional; and I construed it as implying that the matter concerned the King personally. Which the more alarmed me.

  I passed the day in great perplexity; but towards evening, acting on a sudden thought, I sent La Trape, my valet, a trusty fellow, who had saved my life at Villefranche, to the Three Pigeons, a large inn in the suburbs of Paris, at which travellers from north to south, who do not wish to enter the city, are accustomed to change horses. Acquitting himself of the commission with his usual adroitness, he returned with the news that a traveller of rank had passed through three days before, having sent in advance to order relays there and at Essonnes. La Trape reported that the gentleman had remained in his coach, and that none of the servants of the inn had seen his face. “But he had companions?” I said. My mind had not failed to conceive a certain suspicion.

  “Only one, your grace. The rest were servants.”

  “And that one?”

  “A man in the yard fancied that he recognized M. de la Varenne.”

  “Ah!” I said. My agitation was indeed so great that, before giving reins to it, I bade La Trape withdraw. I could scarcely believe that, acquainted as the King was with the plots which the Catholics were daily aiming at his life; and possessing such powerful enemies among the great Protestants as Tremonelle and Bouillon — to say nothing of Mademoiselle d’Entragues’ half-brother, the Count of Auvergne, who hated him — I say, I could hardly believe that with full knowledge of these facts his Majesty had been so fool-hardy as to travel without guards to Fontainebleau. And yet I now felt a certainty that this was the case. The presence of La Varenne, the confidant of his intrigues, while it informed me of the cause of the journey, convinced me that his Majesty had given way to the sole weakness of his nature, and was bent on one of those adventures of gallantry which had been more becoming in the Prince of Béarn than in the King of France. Nor was I at a loss to guess the object of his pursuit. It had been lately whispered in the Court that the King had fallen in love with his mistress’s younger sister, Susette d’Entragues; whose home at Malesherbes lay but three leagues from Fontainebleau, on the edge of the forest. This fact placed the King’s imprudence in a stronger light; for he had scarcely in France a more dangerous enemy than her brother, Auvergne, nor had the immense sums which he had settled on the elder sister satisfied the avarice or conciliated the hostility of her father.

  I saw that Father Cotton had known more than I had. But his motive in speaking I found less easy to divine. It might be a wish to baulk this new passion through my interference, while he exposed me to the risk of his Majesty’s anger. Or it might be the single desire to avert danger from the King’s person. At any rate, constant to my rule of preferring, come what might, my master’s interest to his favour, I sent for Maignan, my equerry, and bade him have an equipage ready at dawn.

  At that hour, next morning, attended only by La Trape, with a groom, a page, and four Swiss, I started, giving out that I was bound for Sully to inspect that demesne, which had formerly been the property of my family, and of which the refusal had just been offered to me. Under cover of this destination, I was enabled to reach La Ferté Alais unsuspected. There, pretending that the motion of the coach fatigued me, I mounted the led horse, without which I never travelled, and bidding La Trape accompany me, I gave orders to the others to follow at their leisure to Pithiviers, where I proposed to stay the night.

  La Ferté Alais, on the borders of the forest, is some five leagues westward of Fontainebleau and as far north of Malesherbes, with which it is connected by a high-road. Having disclosed my intentions to La Trape, I left this road and struck into a woodland path which promised to conduct us in the right direction. But the luxuriance of the undergrowth, and the huge chaos of grey rocks which cumber that part of the forest, made it difficult to keep for any time in a straight line. After being an hour in the saddle we concluded that we had lost our way, and were confirmed in this, on reaching a clearing. In place of the chateau we saw before us a small house, which La Trape presently recognized as an inn, situate about a league and a half on the Fontainebleau side of Malesherbes.

  We had still ample time to reach the Chateau by nightfall, but before proceeding farther it was necessary that our horses should have rest. Dismounting I bade La Trape see the sorrel well baited. The inn was a poor place; but having no choice, I entered it and found myself in a large room better furnished with company than accommodation. Three men, who appeared to be of those reckless blades who are commonly to be found in the inns on the outskirts of Paris, and who come not unfrequently to their ends at Montfaucon, were tippling and playing cards at a table near the door. They looked up on my entrance, but refrained from saluting me, which, as I was plainly dressed, and much travel-stained, was excusable. By the fire, partaking of a coarse meal, sat a fourth man of so singular an appearance that I must needs describe him. He was of great height and extreme leanness, resembling a maypole rather than a man. His face matched his form, for it was long and meagre, and terminated in a small peaked beard, which like his hair and moustachios was as white as snow. With all this his eyes glowed with something of the fire of youth, and his brown complexion and sinewy hands seemed to indicate robust health. He wore garments which had once been fashionable, but now bore marks of much patching, and I remarked that the point of his sword, which, as he sat, trailed on the stones behind him, had worn its way through the scabbard. Notwithstanding these signs of poverty he saluted me with the ease of a gentleman, and bade me with some stiffness share his table and the fire. Accordingly I drew up, and called for a bottle of the best wine, being minded to divert myself with him.

  I was little prepared, however, for the turn his conversation took, or the tirade into which he presently broke; the object of which proved to be no other than myself! I do not know that I have ever cut so whimsical a figure as while I sat and heard my name loaded with reproaches; but being certain that he did not know me I waited patiently, and soon learned both who he was, and the grievance which he was about to lay before the King. His name was Boisrosé. He had been the leader in that gallant capture of Fécamp, which took place while I represented his Majesty in Normandy, and his grievance was, that in the face of many promises he had been deprived of the government of the place. “He leads the King by the ear!” he cried loudly, and in an accent which marked him for a Gascon. “That villain of a De Rosny! But I will shew him up! I will trounce him! If the King will not, I will!” And with that he drew the hilt of his long rapier to the front with a gesture so truculent that the three bullies who had stopped to laugh resu
med their game in haste.

  Notwithstanding his sentiments, I was pleased to meet with a man of so singular a temper, whom I also knew to be courageous: and I was willing to amuse myself further. “But,” I said modestly, “I have had some affairs with M. de Rosny, and I have never found him cheat me.”

  “Do not deceive yourself!” he cried, slapping the table. “He is a rascal! There is no one he will not cheat!”

  “Yet,” I ventured to reply, “I have heard that in many respects he is not a bad minister.”

  “He is a villain!” he repeated so loudly as to drown what I would have added. “A villain, sir, a villain! Do not tell me otherwise! But rest assured! I will make the King see him in his true colours! Rest content, sir! I will trounce him! He has to do with Armand de Boisrosé!”

  Seeing that he was not open to argument — for being opposed he grew warm — I asked him by what channel he intended to approach the King, and learned that here he felt a difficulty, since he had neither a friend at Court, nor money to buy one. Certain that the narrative of our rencontre and its sequel would amuse his Majesty, who loved a jest, I advised Boisrosé to go boldly to the King, and speak to him; which, thanking me as profusely as he had before reproached me, he avowed he would do. With that I rose.

  At the last moment, and as I was parting from him, it occurred to me to try upon him the shibboleth which in Father Cotton’s mouth had so mystified me. “This fire burns brightly,” I said, kicking the logs together with my riding-boot. “It must be of boxwood.”

  “Of what, sir?” he asked politely.

  “Of boxwood! Why not?” I replied in a louder tone.

  “My certes!” he answered, staring at me. “They do not burn boxwood in this country. Those are larch trimmings, as all the world knows, neither more nor less!”

  While he wondered at my ignorance, I was pleased to discover his; and so far I had lost my pains. But it did not escape me that the three gamesters had ceased to play, and were listening to our conversation. Moreover as I moved to the door they followed me with their eyes: and when I turned after riding a hundred yards I found that they had come to the door and were gaping after us.

  This did not hinder me remarking that a hound which had been lying before the fire had come forth with us, and was now running in front, now gambolling about the horses’ legs. I supposed that when it had accompanied us a certain way it would return; but it persisted, and presently where the road forked I had occasion to notice its movements; for choosing one of the paths it stood in the mouth of it, wagging its tail and inviting us to take that road: and this it did so pertinaciously and cheerfully that though the directions we had received at the inn would have led us to prefer the other track, we followed the dog as the more trustworthy guide.

  We had gone from this point about four hundred paces forward, when La Trape showed me that the path was growing narrow, and betrayed few signs of being used. It seemed certain — though the dog still ran confidently ahead — that we were again astray; and I was about to draw rein and return when I saw that the undergrowth on the right of the path had assumed the character of a thick hedge of box — a shrub common only in a few parts of the forest. Though less prone than most men to put faith in omens, I accepted this; and, notwithstanding that it wanted but an hour of sunset, I rode on, remarking that with each turn in the woodland path, the scrub on my left also gave place more and more to the sturdy tree which had been in my mind all day. Finally, we found ourselves passing through an alley of box — which no long time before had been clipped and dressed. A final turn brought us into a cul de sac; and there we were, in a kind of small arbour carpeted with turf, and so perfectly hedged in as to afford no exit save by the entrance. Here the dog placidly stood and wagged its tail, looking up at us.

  I must confess that this termination of the adventure seemed so surprising, and the evening light shining on the level walls of green about us was so full of a solemn quiet, that I was not surprised to hear La Trape mutter a prayer. For my part, assured that something more than chance had brought me hither, I dismounted and spoke encouragement to the hound. But it only leapt upon me. Then I walked round the tiny enclosure, and presently I discovered, close to the hedge, three small patches, where the grass was slightly beaten or trodden down. A second glance told me more; I saw that at these places the hedge about three feet from the ground was hacked and hollowed. I stooped, until my eyes were level with the hole thus made, and discovered that I was looking through a funnel skilfully cut in the wall of box. At my end the opening was rather larger than a man’s face; at the other end not as large as the palm of the hand. The funnel rose gradually, so that I took the farther extremity of it to be about seven feet from the ground, and here it disclosed a feather dangling on a spray. From the light falling strongly on this, I judged it to be not in the hedge, but a pace or two from it on the hither side of another fence of box. On examining the remaining loopholes, I discerned that they bore upon the same feather.

  My own mind was at once made up, but I bade my valet go through the same investigation, and then asked him whether he had ever seen an ambush of this kind laid for game. He replied that the shot would pass over the tallest stag, or aught but a man on horseback; and fortified by this, I mounted without saying more, and we retraced our steps. The hound, which had doubtless the habit, as some dogs have, of accompanying the first person who held out the prospect of a walk, presently left us, and without further adventure we reached the Chateau a little after sunset.

  I expected to be received by the King with some displeasure, but it chanced that a catarrh had kept him within doors all day; and unable to hunt or visit his new flame, he had been at leisure, in this palace without a court, to consider the imprudence he was committing. He received me therefore with the laugh of a schoolboy detected in a petty fault, and as I hastened to relate to him some of the things which M. de Boisrosé had said of the Baron de Rosny, I soon had the gratification of perceiving that my presence was not taken amiss. His Majesty gave orders that bedding should be furnished for my pavilion, and that his household should wait on me, and himself sent me from his table a couple of chickens and a fine melon, bidding me to come to him when I had supped.

  I did so, and found him alone in his closet awaiting me with impatience; he had already divined that I had not made this journey merely to reproach him. Before informing him, however, of my suspicions, I craved leave to ask him one or two questions, and in particular whether he had been in the habit of going to Malesherbes daily.

  “Daily,” he admitted with a grimace. “What more, Father Confessor?”

  “By what road, sire?”

  “I have hunted mornings, and visited Malesherbes at midday. I have returned as a rule by the bridle-path, which passes the Rock of the Serpents.”

  “Patience, sire, one moment,” I said. “Does that path run anywhere through a plantation of box?”

  “It does,” he answered, without hesitation. “About half a mile on this side of the rock, it skirts Queen Catherine’s maze.”

  Thereon I told the King without reserve all that had happened. He listened with the air of seeming carelessness which he always assumed when plots against his life were under discussion; but at the end he embraced me again with tears in his eyes. “France is beholden to you!” he said. “I have never had, nor shall have, such another servant as you, Rosny! The three ruffians at the inn,” he continued, “are, of course, the tools, and the hound has been in the habit of accompanying them to the spot. Yesterday, I remember, I walked by that place with the bridle on my arm.”

  “By a special providence, sire,” I said gravely.

  “It is true,” he answered, crossing himself, a thing I had never yet known him do in private. “But, now, who is the craftsman who has contrived this pretty plot? Tell me that, Grand Master.”

  On this point, however, though I had my suspicions, I begged leave to be excused until I had slept upon it. “Heaven forbid,” I said, “that I should expose any
man to your Majesty’s resentment without cause. The wrath of kings is the forerunner of death.”

  “I have not heard,” the King answered dryly, “that the Duke of Bouillon has called in a leech yet.”

  Before retiring, I learned that his Majesty had with him a score of light horse, whom La Varenne had requisitioned from Melun; and that some of these had each day awaited him at Malesherbes and ridden home behind him. Further, that Henry had been in the habit of wearing, when riding back in the evening, a purple cloak over his hunting-suit, a fact well known, I felt sure, to the assassins, who, unseen and in perfect safety, could fire at the exact moment when the cloak obscured the feather, and could then make their escape, secured by the stout wall of box from immediate pursuit.

  I slept ill, and was aroused early by La Varenne coming to my bedside, and bidding me hasten to the King. I did so, and found him already in his boots and walking on the terrace with Coquet, his Master of the Household, Vitry, La Varenne, and a gentleman unknown to me. On seeing me he dismissed them, and while I was still a great way off, called out, chiding me for my laziness: then taking me by the hand in the most obliging manner, he made me walk up and down with him, while he told me what further thoughts he had of this affair; and hiding nothing from me even as he bade me speak to him whatever I thought without reserve, he required to know whether I suspected that the Entragues family were cognizant of this.

  “I cannot say, sire,” I answered prudently.

  “But you suspect?”

  “In your Majesty’s cause I suspect all,” I replied.

  He sighed, and seeing that my eyes wandered to the group of gentlemen who had betaken themselves to the terrace steps, and were thence watching us, he asked me if I would answer for them. “For Vitry, who sleeps at my feet when I lie alone? For Coquet?”