At Agincourt

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His companions were equally glad when Guy told them the news.

"The sooner the better, Master Guy," Long Tom said. "I own that I should
like to have a tussle with these rascals before I go; their doings are so
wicked that every honest man must want to get one fair blow at them.
Still, I don't see any chance of that, for although the good fellows round
here grumble under their breath, there does not seem any chance of their
doing anything. There is not an hour passes that my heart is not in my
mouth if I hear a step on the stairs, thinking that they may have found
out where my lady is hidden."

Guy had just turned into the street where the astrologer dwelt when he
heard loud voices from a little group in front of him. Four armed men,
whose white hoods showed that they were one of the butchers' patrols, were
standing round a slight figure.

"It is well you stopped him, comrade," a voice said, that Guy recognized
at once as being that of Simon Bouclier. "I know the young fellow; he has
been to me many a time on the part of a knave who professed to be an agent
of Burgundy's, making inquiries of me as to the doings in our quarter. I
have found out since that the duke employed no such agent, and this matter
must be inquired into. We will take him with us to the market; they will
soon find means of learning all about him and his employer."

Guy felt at once that if Katarina were carried to the butchers, not only
would the consequences to herself be terrible, but that she would be
forced to make such disclosures as would lead to the arrest of the count,
and to the discovery of Dame Margaret. He determined at all hazards to get
her out of these men's hands. The girl made a sudden attempt to free
herself, slipped from the grasp that one of the men had of her shoulder,
dived between two others, and would have been off had not Simon seized her
by the arm. Guy sprung forward and threw himself on the butcher, and with
such force that Simon rolled over in the gutter.

"Run, run!" he shouted at the same moment to Katarina, who darted down a
lane to the left, while he himself ran forward and turned down the first
lane to the right with the three men in hot pursuit of him. Young, active,
and unencumbered by armour, he gained on them rapidly; but when he neared
the end of the lane he saw some five or six White Hoods, whose attention
had been called by the shouts of his pursuers, running to meet him. He
turned and ran back till close to those who had been following him, and
then suddenly sprung into a doorway when they were but three or four paces
from him. They were unable to check their speed, and as they passed he
brought his sword down on the neck of the one nearest, and as he fell to
the ground Guy leapt out and ran up the street again. He had gone but ten
paces when he met Simon, who rushed at him furiously with an uplifted axe.
Springing aside as the blow descended he delivered a slashing cut on the
butcher's cheek, dashed past him, and kept on his way. He took the first
turning, and then another, leading, like that in which he had been
intercepted, towards the river. His pursuers were fifty yards behind him,
but he feared that at any moment their shouts would attract the attention
of another patrol. More than once, indeed, he had to alter his direction
as he heard sounds of shouts in front of him, but at last, after ten
minutes' running, he came down on to the main thoroughfare at the point
where the street leading to the bridge across to the island issued from
it.

[Illustration: "GUY DELIVERED A SLASHING BLOW ON THE BUTCHER'S CHEEK, AND
DASHED PAST HIM."]

His pursuers were still but a short distance away, for fresh parties who
had joined them had taken up the chase, and Guy was no longer running at
the speed at which he had started. His great fear was that he should be
stopped at the gate at the end of the bridge; but as there was no fear of
attack this had been left open, so as not to interfere with the traffic
between that quarter of the city on the island and those on the opposite
banks. Guy was now again running his hardest, in order to get across far
enough ahead of his pursuers to enable him to hide himself, when a strong
patrol of some twenty White Hoods issued from the gate at the other side
of the bridge. Without a moment's hesitation he climbed the parapet and
threw himself over. It would, he knew, be as bad for his mistress were he
captured as if Katarina had fallen into their hands, for if caught he felt
sure that tortures would be applied to discover who he was and where his
mistress was hidden, and he had made up his mind that if he was overtaken
he would fight until killed rather than be captured.

When he came to the surface of the water Guy turned on his back and
suffered himself to float down until he recovered his breath. When he did
so he raised his head and, treading the water, listened attentively. He
was now nearly a quarter of a mile below the bridge. There was no sound of
shouting behind him, but he felt sure that the pursuit was in no way
abandoned. Already torches were flashing on the quay between the wall and
the river, and in a short time others appeared on his left. On both sides
there were dark spaces where the walls of the great chateaux of the nobles
extended down to the water's side, and obliged those pursuing him along
the quays to make a detour round them to come down again to the bank. He
could hardly succeed in reaching one of these buildings without being
seen, for the light of the torches on the opposite shore would be almost
certain to betray his movements as soon as he began to swim, and even if
he did reach the shore unseen he might at once be handed over to the White
Hoods by those in the hotel. He therefore remained floating on his back,
and in twenty minutes was beyond the line of the city wall. He could now
swim without fear of being discovered, and made for the southern shore.

It was now the middle of June, and the water was fairly warm, but he was
glad to be out of it. So far as Guy had heard he had not been caught sight
of from the moment that he had sprung from the bridge. It might well be
supposed that he had been drowned. Climbing up the bank he gained, after
walking a quarter of a mile, the forest that surrounded Paris on all
sides. Going some distance into it he threw himself down, after first
taking off his doublet and hanging it on a bush to dry. He had escaped the
first pressing danger, that of being taken and tortured into confession,
and the rest was now comparatively easy. He had but to obtain another
disguise of some sort and to re-enter Paris; he would then be in no
greater danger than before, for in the sudden attack on Simon, and in the
subsequent flight through the ill-lighted streets, he was certain that
beyond the fact that he was young and active, and that he was evidently
not a noble, no one could have noted any details of his dress, and
certainly no one could have had as much as a glance at his face.

He started at daybreak, walked through the woods up to Meudon, and thence
to Versailles, which was then little more than a village. By the time that
he reached it his clothes had thoroughly dried on him, and being of a dark
colour they looked little the worse, save that his tight pantaloons had
shrunk considerably. The stalls were just opening when he arrived there,
and he presently came upon one where garments of all sorts were hanging.
The proprietor's wife, a cheery-looking woman, was standing at the door.

"I have need of some garments, madame," he said.

"You look as if you did," she said with a smile, glancing at his ankles.
"I see that you are an apprentice, and for that sort of gear you will have
to go to Paris; we deal in country garments."

"That will suit me well enough, madame. The fact is that, as you see, I am
an apprentice; but having been badly treated, and having in truth no
stomach for the frays and alarms in Paris (where the first man one meets
will strike one down, and if he slays you it matters not if he but shout
loud enough that he has killed an Orleanist), I have left my master, and
have no intention of returning as an apprentice. But I might be stopped
and questioned at every place I pass through on my way home did I travel
in this 'prentice dress, and I would, therefore, fain buy the attire of a
young peasant."

The woman glanced up and down the street.

"Come in," she said. "You know that it is against the law to give shelter
to a runaway apprentice, but there are such wild doings in Paris that for
my part I can see no harm in assisting anyone to escape, whether he be a
noble or an apprentice, and methinks from your speech that you are as like
to be the former as the latter. But," she went on, seeing that Guy was
about to speak, "tell me naught about it. My husband, who ought to be
here, is snoring upstairs, and I can sell what I will; therefore, look
round and take your choice of garments, and go into the parlour behind the
shop and don them quickly before anyone comes in. As to your own I will
pay you what they are worth, for although those pantaloons are all too
tight for those strong limbs of yours they may do for a slighter figure."

Guy was soon suited, and in a few minutes left the shop in a peasant's
dress, and made his way along the village until beyond the houses. Then he
left the road, made a long detour, and returned to Sevres. Here he first
purchased a basket, which he took outside the place and hid in a bush.
Then he went down into the market and bargained for vegetables, making
three journeys backwards and forwards, and buying each time of different
women, until his basket was piled up. Then he got a piece of old rope for
two or three sous, slung the basket on his shoulders, crossed the ferry,
and made for Paris. He felt strange without his sword, which he had
dropped into the water on landing; for although in Paris every one now
went armed, a sword would have been out of character with his dress, in
the country, and still more so in the disguise in which he had determined
to re-enter the town. He passed without question through the gate, and
made his way to his lodgings. As he entered Long Tom leapt up with a cry
of joy.

"Thank God that you are safe, Master Guy! We have been grievously
disturbed for your safety, for the count came here early this morning in
disguise to ask if we had heard aught of you. He said that his daughter
had returned last night saying that you had rescued her from the hands of
the White Hoods, and that beyond the fact that they had followed you in
hot pursuit she had no news of you, and that the countess was greatly
alarmed as to your safety. The other three men-at-arms started at once to
find out if aught could be learned of you. I would fain have gone also,
but the count said that I must bide here in case you should come, and that
there was trouble enough at present without my running the risk of being
discovered. An hour since Robert Picard returned; he had been listening to
the talk of the White Hoods, and had learned that one of their number had
been killed and another sorely wounded by a man who had rescued a prisoner
from the hands of a patrol. He had been chased by a number of them, and
finally threw himself off the bridge into the Seine to avoid falling into
their hands. The general idea was that he was one of the nobles in
disguise, of whom they were in search, and that the capture would have
been a very important one.

"All agreed that he could never have come up alive, for there were bands
of men with torches along both banks, and no sign of him had been
perceived. However, they are searching the river down, and hope to come
upon his body either floating or cast ashore. Robert went out again to try
and gather more news, leaving me well-nigh distraught here."

"The story is true as far as it goes, Tom. I did catch one of them a back-
handed blow just under his helmet as he ran past me, and I doubt not that
it finished him; as to the other, I laid his cheek open. It was a hot
pursuit, but I should have got away had it not been that a strong patrol
came out through the gate at the other end of the bridge just as I was in
the middle, and there was no course but to jump for it. I thrust my sword
into the sheath, and went over. It added somewhat to my weight in the
water, and it sunk my body below the surface, but with the aid of my hands
paddling I floated so that only my nose and mouth were above the water; so
that it is little wonder that they could not make me out. I landed on the
other bank a quarter of a mile beyond the walls, slept in the forest,
started this morning from Versailles, where I got rid of my other clothes
and bought these. I purchased this basket and the vegetables at Sevres,
then walked boldly in. No one could have seen my face in the darkness, and
therefore I am safe from detection, perhaps safer than I was before."

"Well done, Master Guy; they would have killed you assuredly if they had
caught you."

"It was not that that I was afraid of--it was of being taken prisoner. You
see, if they had captured me and carried me before the butchers in order
to inquire who I was before cutting my throat, they might have put me to
the torture and forced me to say who I was, and where my mistress was in
hiding. I hope if they had, that I should have stood out; but none can say
what he will do when he has red-hot pincers taking bits out of his flesh,
and his nails, perhaps, being torn out at the roots. So even if I could
not have swam a stroke I should have jumped off the bridge."

"You did well, Master Guy," the archer said admiringly; "for indeed they
say that the strongest man cannot hold out against these devilish
tortures."

At this moment a step was heard on the stairs, and Jules Varoy entered.

"The saints be praised!" he exclaimed as he recognized Guy. "I thought
that you were drowned like a rat, Master Guy; and though Tom here told us
that you could swim well, I never thought to see you again."

Guy told him in a few words how he had escaped, and begged him to carry
the news to his mistress. He was about to give him the address--for up
till now he had refrained from doing so, telling them that it was from no
doubt of their fidelity, but that if by any chance one of them fell into
the hands of the White Hoods they might endeavour to wring from them the
secret, and it was therefore best that they should not be burdened with
it--but the man stopped him.

"The count told us that he would be at his booth at the fair at eleven
o'clock, and that if any of us obtained any news we were to take it to him
there. He said that there were several parties of White Hoods in the
streets, and that as he went past he heard them say that the boy of whom
they were in search was a messenger of some person of importance at court,
and that doubtless the man who had rescued him was also in the plot, and
that a strict watch was to be kept on the quarter both for the boy and for
the man, who was said to be tall and young. Simon, who had been wounded by
him, had declared that he knew him to be connected with the boy; that he
was a young man with dark hair, and was in the habit of using disguises,
sometimes wearing the dress of an apprentice, and at other times that of a
butcher's assistant. He said that he was about twenty-three."

Guy smiled. He understood that the butcher, who was a very powerful man,
did not like to own that the man who had killed one of his comrades and
had severely wounded himself was but a lad.

"As you go, Jules," he said, "will you see Maitre Leroux and ask him if he
can come hither, for I would consult him on the matter."

CHAPTER XVI

THE ESCAPE

Maitre Leroux came in shortly after Jules Varoy had left. He had not,
until the man told him, heard of the events of the night before, and Guy
had to tell him all about it before anything else was said.

"It was a lucky escape, Master Aylmer, if one can call luck what is due to
thought and quickness. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"This black hue that I gave my hair has been of good service to me
hitherto, but as it is a youth with black hair that they are now looking
for, I would fain change its hue again."

"What dye did you use?"

"It was bought for me at a perfumer's in the Rue Cabot. As you see, it is
fading now, and the ducking last night has greatly assisted to wash it
out. The shopman said that it was used by court ladies and would last for
a long time, but I have already had to renew it four or five times. I
would now colour my hair a red or a reddish-brown; if I cannot do that I
must crop it quite short. It matters nothing in this disguise whether it
is altogether out of the fashion or not. What think you?"

"Doubtless you could get dyes of any shade at the perfumer's you speak of,
for he supplies most of the court ladies with dyes and perfumes; and I
should say that reddish-brown dye would suit you well, since that differs
a good deal from your hair's original colour and still more from what it
is at present. I will ask one of Lepelletiere's daughters to fetch it for
you. It would be better than cutting it short, though that might not go
badly with your present disguise, but should you need to adopt any other
it would look strange, since in our days there is scarce anyone but wears
his hair down to his shoulders. In the meantime I would have you wash your
hair several times with a ley of potash, but not too strong, or it will
damage it. I warrant me that will take out the dye altogether; but be sure
that you wash it well in pure water afterwards, so as to get rid of the
potash, for that might greatly affect the new dye. I will send a boy up
with some potash to you at once, so that you may be ready to apply the dye
as soon as you get it."

Late in the afternoon Guy sallied out in the disguise in which he had
arrived. His hair was a tawny brown. He had left his basket behind him,
and carried a heavy cudgel in his hand. He sauntered quietly along,
stopping often to stare at the goods on the stalls, and at nobles who rode
past followed generally by two or three esquires. No one would doubt that
he was a young countryman freshly arrived in Paris.

He had sent a message to the count by Jules Varoy that he would pass along
the street in the disguise of a young peasant as the clock struck seven,
and that if he saw no White Hoods about he would look up at the casement,
return a minute or two afterwards, and then try if the door was
unfastened. If so he would come in, while if it were fastened he should
consider that it was judged unsafe for him to enter. He caught sight of
Katarina's face at the window as he glanced up. There was a patrol of the
White Hoods in sight, but it was far down the street, and after going a
few yards past the house he crossed the road, and as he returned he pushed
at the door. It yielded at once, and with a glance round to see that no
one was watching he entered quickly and closed it behind him.

"The Madonna be thanked that you are safe!" Katarina, now in her girl's
dress, exclaimed as she seized his hand. "Oh, Monsieur Guy, how I have
suffered! It was not until two o'clock that my father returned and told us
that you were safe; I should never have forgiven myself if harm had come
to you from your noble effort to save me. I heard their shouts as they ran
in pursuit of you, and scarce thought it possible that you could escape
when there was so many of their patrols about in the street. I cried all
night at the thought that you should have thrown away your life to try to
save mine, for I knew well enough what would have happened had that evil
butcher dragged me to his quarter. After my father had been out early and
brought back the news that you had leapt into the Seine we had some little
hope, for Dame Margaret declared that she knew that you could swim well.
We had no one we could send out, for the old woman is too stupid, and my
father now strictly forbids me to stir outside the door. So here we all
sat worn with anxiety until my father returned from the booth with the
news. He could not come back earlier, and he had no one to send, for the
black man must keep outside amusing the people as long as my father is
there."

All this was poured out so rapidly that it was said by the time they
reached the door upstairs. Dame Margaret silently held out her hands to
Guy as he entered, and Agnes kissed him with sisterly affection, while
Charlie danced round and round him with boisterous delight.

"I hardly knew how much you were to me and how much I depended upon you,
Guy," Dame Margaret said presently, "until I feared that I had lost you.
When, as I thought must be the case from what Katarina said, I believed
you were killed or a prisoner in the hands of those terrible people, it
seemed to me that we were quite left alone, although there still remained
the four men. Neither Agnes nor I closed our eyes all night Charlie soon
cried himself to sleep, Katarina sat up with us till nigh morning, and we
had hard work to console her in any way, so deep was her grief at the
thought that it was owing to her that you had run this peril. All night we
could hear the count walking up and down in the room above. He had pointed
out the peril that might arise to us ail if you had fallen into the hands
of the butchers, but at the time we could not dwell on that, though there
were doubtless grounds for his fears."

"Great grounds, madame. That is what I most feared when I was flying from
them, and I was resolved that I would not be taken alive, for had I not
gained the bridge I was determined to force them to kill me rather than be
captured. It was fortunate, indeed, that I came along when I did,
Katarina, for had I not heard what Simon said I should have passed on
without giving a thought to the matter. There are too many evil deeds done
in Paris to risk one's life to rescue a prisoner from the hands of a
patrol of the White Hoods."

"As for me, I did not realize it until it was all over," Katarina said. "I
felt too frightened even to think clearly. It was not until the shouts of
your pursuers had died away that I could realize what you had saved me
from, and the thought made me so faint and weak that I was forced to sit
down on a door-step for a time before I could make my way home. As to my
father, he turned as pale as death when I came in and told him what had
happened."

Shortly afterwards the count, who had been engaged with a person of
consequence, came down. He thanked Guy in the warmest terms for the
service he had rendered his daughter.

"Never was a woman in greater peril," he said, "and assuredly St. Anthony,
my patron saint, must have sent you to her rescue. She is all that I have
left now, and it is chiefly for her sake that I have continued to amass
money, though I say not that my own fancy for meddling in such intrigues
may not take some part in the matter. After this I am resolved of one
thing, namely, that she shall take no further part in the business. For
the last year I had often told myself that the time had come when I must
find another to act as my messenger and agent. It was difficult, however,
to find one I could absolutely trust, and I have put the matter off. I
shall do so no longer; and indeed there is now the less occasion for it,
since, as I have just learned, fresh negotiations have been opened for
peace. That it will be a lasting one I have no hope, but the Orleanists
are advancing in such force that Burgundy may well feel that the issue of
a battle at present may go against him. But even though it last but a
short time, there will come so many of the Orleanist nobles here with
doubtless strong retinues that Paris will be overawed, and we shall have
an end of these riots here. I shall, therefore, have no need to trouble as
to what is going on at the markets. As to other matters I can keep myself
well informed. I have done services to knights and nobles of one party as
well as the other, and shall be able to learn what is being done in both
camps. The important point at present is, Lady Margaret, that there is
like to be a truce, at any rate for a time. As soon as this is made and
the Duke of Aquitaine has gained power to act you may be sure that the
leaders of the White Hoods will be punished, and there will be no more
closing of gates and examination of those who pass in and out. Therefore,
madame, you will then be able to do what is now well-nigh impossible,
namely, quit the town. At present the orders are more stringent than ever,
none are allowed to leave save with orders signed by John de Troyes, who
calls himself keeper of the palace, Caboche, or other leaders and even
peasants who come in with market goods must henceforth produce papers
signed by the syndics of their villages saying they are the inhabitants of
his commune, and therefore quiet and peaceable men going about their
business of supplying the city with meat or vegetables, as the case may
be. These papers must also be shown on going out again. Until a change
takes place, then, there is no hope of your making your way out through
the gates with your children; but as soon as the truce is concluded and
the Orleanists come in you will be able to pass out without trouble."

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