At Agincourt

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"'I believe in the stars, madame, wholly and implicitly, but the knowledge
to be gained from them is general and not particular; but with that
general knowledge, and with what I know of men's personal character and
habits, of their connections, of their political schemes and personal
ambitions, I am able in the majority of cases so to supplement the
knowledge I gain from the stars, as to trace their future with an accuracy
that seems to them astonishing indeed. For example, madame, had I read in
the stars that a dire misfortune impended over you last night, and had I
learned that there was a talk among the butchers that the provost of the
silversmiths was a strong opponent of theirs, and that steps would shortly
be taken to show the Parisians the danger of opposing them, it would have
needed no great foresight on my part to tell you that you were threatened
with a great danger, and that the danger would probably take the form of
an attack by the rabble on the house you occupied. I should naturally put
it less plainly. I should tell you to beware of this date, should warn you
that I saw threatening faces and raised weapons, and that the sounds of
angry shouts demanding blood were in my ears.

"'Any astrologer, madame, who works by proper methods can, from the
conjunction of the stars at anyone's birth, calculate whether their aspect
will be favourable or unfavourable at any given time, and may foretell
danger or death; but it needs a knowledge of human nature, a knowledge of
character and habits, and a knowledge of the questioner's surroundings to
be able to go much farther than this. That I have had marvellous successes
and that my counsels are eagerly sought depends, then, upon the fact that
I leave nothing to chance, but that while enveloping myself in a certain
amount of mystery I have a police of my own consisting of men of all
stations, many, indeed most of whom, do not know me even by sight. They
have no idea of the object of my inquiries, and indeed believe that their
paymaster is the head of the secret police, or the agent of some powerful
minister.'

"You see, Guy, the count spoke with perfect frankness to me. His object
naturally was to gain my confidence by showing himself as he is, and to
explain why he wished to secure a home for his daughter. He took up his
strange profession in the first place as a means of obtaining his living,
and perhaps to secure himself from the search of private enemies who would
have had him assassinated could he have been found; but he follows it now
from his love for an atmosphere of intrigue, and for the power it gives
him, because, as he told me, he has already amassed a considerable
fortune, and could well retire and live in luxury did he choose. He said
frankly that if he did not so interest himself his existence would be
simply intolerable to him.

"'I may take my daughter to England,' he said; 'I may stay there until I
see her established in life, but when I had done so I should have to
return here. Paris is always the centre of intrigues; I would rather live
on a crust here than be a prince elsewhere.'

"He certainly succeeded in convincing me wholly of his sincerity, as far
as we are concerned. Devoted to intrigue himself, he would fain that his
daughter should live her life in peace and tranquillity, and that the
money for which he has no use himself should be enjoyed by her. 'I have
lost my rank,' he said, 'forfeited it, if you will; but she is the
Countess Katarina of Montepone, and I should like to know that she and my
descendants after her should live the life that my ancestors lived. It is
a weakness, a folly, I know; but we have all our weak points and our
follies. At any rate I see that that fancy could not well be carried out
in France or in Italy, but it may be in England.' At any rate, after all
he has told me I feel that he has it in his power to be a very useful
friend and ally to us here; I am convinced that he is truly desirous of
being so."

"And how did you like the girl, Agnes?" she said, raising her voice. Agnes
had fetched Charlie in, and they were looking together down into the
street while their mother was talking to Guy.

"I hardly know, mother; she seemed to be so much older than I am.
Sometimes when she talked and laughed, I thought I liked her very much,
and then a minute later it seemed to me that I did not understand her one
bit. But I do think that she would be very nice when one came to know her
thoroughly."

"She has lived so different a life to yourself, Agnes, that it is no
wonder that you should feel at first that you have nothing in common with
her. That she is very clever I have no doubt, and that she is brave and
fearless we know. Can you tell us anything more, Guy?"

"Not very much more, Lady Margaret. I should say that she was very true
and loyal. I think that at present she enters into what she has to do in
something of the same spirit as her father, and that she thoroughly likes
it. I think that she is naturally full of fun and has high spirits, and
that she enjoys performing these missions with which she is entrusted as a
child enjoys a game, and that the fact that there is a certain amount of
danger connected with them is in itself attractive to her. I am glad that
you have told me what he said to you about himself, for I could not
understand him before. I think I can now, and understanding him one can
understand his daughter."

At eight o'clock all retired to bed. They had had little sleep the night
before, and the day had been full of events. Guy's last thought was that
he was sorry for the king, who seemed to wish to do what was right, but
who was a mere puppet in the hands of Burgundy or Queen Isobel, to be used
as a lay figure when required by whichever had a temporary ascendency.

For the next fortnight Guy worked hard in the _salle d'armes_, being
one of the first to arrive and the last to depart, and after taking a
lesson from one or other of the masters he spent the rest of the morning
in practising with anyone who desired an adversary. Well trained as he was
in English methods of fighting, he mastered with a quickness that
surprised his teachers the various thrusts and parries that were new to
him. At the end of that time he was able to hold his own with the young
Count d'Estournel, who was regarded as an excellent swordsman.

The attendance of the Burgundian nobles had now fallen off a good deal.
The Armagnac army had approached Paris, St. Denis had opened its gates to
them, and there were frequent skirmishes near the walls of Paris between
parties of their knights and the Burgundians. Paris was just at present
more quiet. Burgundy was still absent, and the future seemed so uncertain,
that both factions in the city held their hands for a time.

The news that a reconciliation between Orleans and Burgundy had been fully
effected, and that the great lords would soon enter Paris together, was
received with a joy that was modified by recollections of the past.
Burgundy and Orleans had once before sworn a solemn friendship, and yet a
week or two later Orleans lay dead in the streets of Paris, murdered by
the order of Burgundy. Was it likely that the present patching up of the
quarrel would have a much longer duration? On the former occasion the
quarrel was a personal one between the two great houses, now all France
was divided. A vast amount of blood had been shed, there had been cruel
massacres, executions, and wrongs, and the men of one faction had come to
hate those of the other; and although neither party had dared to put
itself in the wrong by refusing to listen to the mediators, it was certain
that the reconciliation was a farce, and that it was but a short truce
rather than a peace that had been concluded. Nevertheless Paris rejoiced
outwardly, and hailed with enthusiasm the entry of the queen, the Dukes of
Aquitaine, Burgundy, Berri, and Bourbon.

The Duke of Aquitaine was now acting as regent, though without the title,
for the king was again insane. He had married Burgundy's daughter, but it
was rumoured that he was by no means disposed to submit himself blindly to
the advice of her father. The only effect of the truce between the parties
was to add to the power of the Burgundian faction in Paris. But few of the
Armagnac party cared to trust themselves in the city that had shown itself
so hostile, but most of them retired to their estates, and the great
procession that entered the town had been for the most part composed of
adherents of Burgundy. Three days after their arrival in the town Guy, on
leaving the _salle d'armes_, found Katarina in her boy's attire waiting
for him at the corner of the street.

"My father would speak with you, Master Guy," she said shyly, for in the
past two months she had always been in her girl's dress when he had met
her. "Pray go at once," she said; "I will not accompany you, for I have
other matters to attend to."

"Things are not going well," the count said when Guy entered the room;
"the Orleanists are discouraged and the butchers triumphant. At a meeting
last night they determined that a body of them should wait upon the Dukes
of Aquitaine and Burgundy to complain of the conduct of the knights who
fell upon them when attacking the silversmith's, and demand in the name of
Paris their execution."

"They would never dare do that!" Guy exclaimed indignantly.

"They will assuredly do it, and I see not how they can be refused. The
duke has no force that could oppose the Parisians. They might defend the
Louvre and one or two of the strongly fortified houses, but the butchers
would surround them with twenty thousand men. Burgundy's vassals might
come to his assistance, but the gates of Paris would be closed, and it
would need nothing short of an army and a long siege before they could
enter Paris. When they had done so they might punish the leaders, but
Burgundy would thereby lose for ever the support of the city, which is
all-important to him. Therefore if you would save your friends you must
warn them that it will be necessary for them to make their way out of
Paris as quickly and as quietly as may be. In the next place, and
principally, you yourself will assuredly be murdered. There was a talk of
the meeting demanding your execution and that of your four men; but it was
decided that there was no need to do this, as you could all be killed
without trouble, and that possibly the Duke of Aquitaine might refuse on
the ground that, as your lady had come here under safe-conduct as a royal
hostage, you were entitled to protection, and it would be contrary to his
honour to give you up.

"There are others who have displeased the Parisians whose lives they will
also demand, and there are several women among them; therefore, it is
clear that even the sex of your lady will not save her and her children
from the fury and longing for revenge, felt by the family of Legoix and by
Caboche the skinner. The only question is, where can they be bestowed in
safety? I know what you would say, that all this is monstrous, and that it
is incredible that the Parisians will dare to take such steps. I can
assure you that it is as I say; the peril is most imminent. Probably to-
night, but if not, to-morrow the gates of Paris will be closed, and there
will be no escape for any whom these people have doomed to death. In the
first place, you have to warn your Burgundian friends; that done, you must
see to the safety of your four men. The three Frenchmen may, if they
disguise themselves, perchance be able to hide in Paris, but your tall
archer must leave the city without delay, his height and appearance would
betray him in whatever disguise he were clad.

"Now as to your lady and the children, remain where they are they cannot.
Doubtless were she to appeal to the Duke of Burgundy for protection he
would place her in the Louvre, or in one of the other castles--that is, if
she could persuade him of the intentions of the Parisians, which indeed it
would be difficult for her to do; but even could she do so she would not
be safe, for if he is forced to surrender some of his own knights and
ladies of the court to these miscreants, he could not refuse to hand over
Lady Margaret. They might, it is true, possibly escape from Paris in
disguise, but I know that there is already a watch set at the gates. The
only resource that I can see is that she should with her children come
hither for a time. This is but a poor place for her, but I think that if
anywhere she might be safe with me. No one knows that I have had any
dealings whatever with you, and no one connects me in any way with
politics. What should a vendor of nostrums have to do with such affairs?
Thus, then, they might remain here without their presence being in the
slightest degree suspected. At any rate I have as good means as any for
learning what is being done at their councils, and should receive the
earliest information were it decided that a search should be made here;
and should this be done, which I think is most unlikely, I shall have time
to remove them to some other place of concealment.

"Lastly, as to yourself, I take it that nothing would induce you to fly
with your Burgundian friends while your lady is in hiding in Paris?"

"Assuredly not!" Guy said. "My lord appointed me to take charge of her and
watch over her, and as long as I have life I will do so."

"You will not be able to aid her, and your presence may even add to her
danger. Still, I will not say that your resolution is not honourable and
right. But, at least, you must not stay here, for your detection would
almost certainly lead to hers. You, however, can be disguised; I can
darken your skin and hair, and, in some soiled garb you may hope to pass
without recognition. Where to bestow you I will talk over with my
daughter. As soon as it becomes dusk this evening she will present herself
at the house-door of Maitre Leroux. She will bring with her disguises for
your lady, the children, and yourself--I have many of them here--and as
soon as it is quite dark she will guide here Dame Margaret with her
daughter and son. You had best not sally out with them, but can follow a
minute or two later and join them as soon as they turn down a side street.
As to the men, you must arrange with them what they had best do. My advice
is that they should this afternoon saunter out as if merely going for a
walk. They ought to go separately; you can decide what they had best do
when outside."

CHAPTER XII

IN HIDING

The news of this terrible danger was so wholly unexpected that Guy for a
moment felt almost paralyzed.

"It seems almost incredible that such wickedness could take place!" he
exclaimed.

"My information is certain," the count replied. "I do not say that I think
your Burgundian friends are in so much danger as some of those of the
king's party, as Burgundy's influence with these Parisians goes for
something; still, he might not be able to save them if they waited till
the demand was made, although he might warn them if he learned that they
were to be among those demanded."

"Does the duke, then, know what is intended?"

The count smiled. "We know what followed the last reconciliation," he
said, "and can guess pretty shrewdly at what will happen now. _Then_ the
duke murdered Orleans, _now_ he may take measures against the supporters
of the present duke. It was certain that the struggle would begin again as
soon as the kiss of peace had been exchanged. Last time he boldly avowed
his share in the murder; this time, most conveniently for him, the
Parisians are ready and eager to do his work for him. Dismiss from your
mind all doubt; you can rely upon everything that I have told you as being
true. Whether you can convince these young knights is a matter that
concerns me not; but remember that if you fail to convince your mistress,
her life and those of her children are forfeited; and that, so far as I
can see, her only hope of safety is in taking refuge here."

"I thank you with all my heart," Guy said, "and will now set about
carrying out your advice. First, I will return to my lady and consult with
her, and see what we had best do with the men. As to Count Charles
d'Estournel and his friends, I will see them as soon as I have arranged
the other matter. Their case is not so pressing, for, at least, when once
beyond the gates they will be safe. I will see that my lady and the
children shall be ready to accompany your daughter when she comes for
them."

"Look well up and down the street before you sally out," the count said;
"see that there are but few people about. It is a matter of life and death
that no one who knows you shall see you leave this house."

Guy followed his advice, and waited until there was no one within fifty
yards of the door, then he went out, crossed the street, took the first
turning he came to, and then made his way back to the silversmith's as
fast as he could.

"What ails you, Guy?" Dame Margaret said as he entered the room, "you look
sorely disturbed, and as pale as if you had received some injury."

"Would that that were all, my lady. I have had news from the Count of
Montepone of so strange and grave a nature that I would not tell you it,
were it not that he is so much in earnest, and so well convinced of its
truth that I cannot doubt it."

He then related what the count had told him, and repeated the offer of
shelter he had made.

"This is, indeed, beyond all bounds," she said. "What, is it credible that
the Duke of Burgundy and the king's son, the Duke of Aquitaine, can hand
over to this murderous mob of Paris noble gentlemen and ladies?"

"As to Burgundy, madame, it seems to me from what the count said that he
himself is at the bottom of the affair, though he may not know that the
Parisians demand the lives of some of his own knights as well as those of
his opponents. As he did not of old hesitate to murder Orleans, the king's
own brother, we need credit him with no scruples as to how he would rid
himself of others he considers to stand in his way. As to Aquitaine, he is
a young man and powerless. There are no Orleanist nobles in the town to
whom he might look for aid; and if a king's brother was slain, why not a
king's son? It seems to me that he is powerless."

"That may be; but I cannot consent to what the count proposes. What!
disguise myself! and hide from this base mob of Paris! It would be an
unworthy action."

"It is one that I knew you would shrink from, madame; but pardon me for
saying that it is not your own life only, but those of your children that
are at stake. When royal princes and dukes are unable to oppose these
scoundrel Parisians, women and children may well bend before the storm."

Dame Margaret sat for some time with knitted brows. At last she said: "If
it must be, Guy, it must. It goes sorely against the grain; but for the
sake of the children I will demean myself, and will take your advice. Now
you had best summon the four men-at-arms and talk over their case with
them."

Guy went upstairs and fetched the four men down.

"We have sure news, my friends," Dame Margaret said calmly, "that to-night
we and many others shall be seized by the mob and slain."

An exclamation of rage broke from the four men.

"There will be many others slain before that comes about," Long Tom said.

"That I doubt not, Tom, but the end would be the same. An offer of refuge
has been made to me and the children, and for their sake, unwilling as I
am to hide myself from this base mob, I have brought myself to accept it.
My brave esquire will stay in Paris in disguise, and do what may be to
protect us. I have now called you to talk about yourselves. The gates will
speedily be guarded and none allowed to sally out, therefore what is to be
done must be done quickly."

"We will all stay and share your fate, madame. You could not think that we
should leave you," Robert Picard said, and the others murmured their
agreement.

"You would add to my danger without being able to benefit me," she said,
"and my anxiety would be all the greater. No, you must obey my commands,
which are that you forthwith quit Paris. Beyond that I must leave you to
judge your own course. As French men-at-arms none would question you when
you were once beyond the gate. You may find it difficult to travel in this
disturbed time, but you are shrewd enough to make up some story that will
account for your movements, and so may work your way back to Villeroy. The
difficulty is greater in the case of your English comrade--his height and
that light hair of his and ruddy face would mark him anywhere, and if he
goes with you would add to your danger, especially as his tongue would
betray him as being English the first time he spoke. However, beyond
ordering you to quit Paris, I must leave this matter in your hands and
his, and he will doubtless take counsel with my esquire and see if any
disguise can be contrived to suit him. I will see you again presently. You
had best go with them, Guy, and talk the matter over."

"This thing cannot be done, Master Guy," the archer said doggedly when
they reached their apartments; "it is not in reason. What should I say
when I got home and told them at Summerley that I saved my own skin and
left our dear lady and the children to be murdered without striking a blow
on their behalf? The thing is beyond all reason, and I will maintain it to
be so."

"I can understand what you say, Tom, for I feel exactly as you do. The
question is, how is the matter to be arranged?" Then he broke into French,
which the archer by this time understood well enough, though he could
speak it but poorly.

"Tom is saying that he will not go, men," he said, "and I doubt not that
you feel as he does. At the same time our lady's orders must be carried
out in the first place, and you must leave Paris. But I say not that you
need travel to any distance; on the contrary, I should say that, if it can
be arranged, you must return here in a few days, having so changed your
attire and aspect that there is no fear of your being recognized, and
bestow yourself in some lodging where I may find you if there be need of
your services."

"That is what will be best, Master Guy," Robert Picard said. "We have but
to get steel caps of another fashion to pass well enough, and if need be
we can alter the fashion of our hair. There are few here who have noticed
us, and I consider that there is no chance whatever of our being
recognized. There are plenty of men among the cut-throats here who have
served for a while, and we can easily enough get up some tale that will
pass muster for us three. That matter is simple enough, the question is,
what are we to do with Tom? We cannot shorten his stature, nor give his
tongue a French twist."

"No, that is really the difficulty. We might dye that hair of his and
darken his face, as I am going to do myself. There are tall men in France,
and even his inches would not matter so much; the danger lies in his
speech."

"I would never open my mouth, Master Guy; if need were I would sooner cut
out my tongue with a dagger."

"You might bleed to death in the doing of it, Tom. No; we must think of
something better than that. You might perhaps pass as a Fleming, if we
cannot devise any other disguise."

"Leave that to me, Master Guy, I shall think of something. I will at any
rate hide somewhere near Paris, and the lads here will let me know where
they are to be found, and I shall not be long before I join them in some
such guise as will pass muster. But it will be necessary that we should
know where you will be, so that you can communicate with us."

"That I don't know myself yet; but I will be every evening in front of
Notre Dame when the bell strikes nine, and one of you can meet me there
and tell me where you are bestowed, so that I can always send for you in
case of need. Now I think that you had better lose no time, for we know
not at what hour a guard will be placed on the gate. You had better go out
in pairs as if merely going for a walk. If you are stopped, as may well
happen, return here; but as you come purchase a length of strong rope, so
that you may let yourselves down from the wall. Now that peace has been
made, there will be but slight watch save at the gates, and you should
have no difficulty in evading the sight of any who may be on guard."

"That will be easy enough," Robert Picard said confidently. "We had best
not come back here, for there may be a watch set upon the house and they
may follow us."

"The only thing that troubles me," Tom said, "is that I must leave my bow
behind me."

"You can get another when you get back to Villeroy; there are spare ones
there."

"Yes, yes, but that is not the same thing, Master Guy; a man knows his own
bow, and when he takes to a fresh one his shooting is spoilt until he gets
to know it well. Every bow has its niceties; for rough shooting it makes
but little matter, but when it comes to aiming at the slit in a knight's
vizor at eighty yards one makes poor shooting with a strange bow."

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