Orrain
S >>
S. Levett Yeats >> Orrain
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20
At this moment Torquato Trotto appeared at the door with suave
apologies, and stepping forward, rubbing his hands together, he said:
"I regret to have appeared so discourteous; I trust that monsieur and
madame will remain here for to-night."
"I am afraid, Signer Torquato Trotto, that is impossible."
"_Per Bacco_! You know me!" exclaimed the Italian in slight surprise.
"The name of Torquato Trotto is known in France," I said, and the brow
of the man darkened.
"Perhaps I too can return the compliment, monsieur. You are----"
"Bertrand Broussel, bourgeois, of the Rue des Lavandieres, Paris," I
interrupted, and I caught a strange expression of disappointment in
mademoiselle's eyes. "Hum!" I thought, "does the furrier's niece take
me for a prince of the blood in disguise?"
La Marmotte, however, cut in at this juncture, for she saw the storm in
the air, and I again said that we would go on at once, if Messire
Trotto would of his kindness provide us with a guide; if not, we would
go without one.
And Trotto answered blandly:
"Impossible! My lieutenant is away with my men, and I have no one here
who knows the way. I am totally ignorant myself, or I would willingly
help you. Besides, to go now would be madness. The road is infested
by robbers--faith of a gentleman!"
"That is indeed true! I have just escaped them--thanks to the bravery
of this gentleman here," exclaimed mademoiselle.
"Madame, you are lucky to have escaped; but you must tell us of your
adventures as we sup," and he moved towards the table.
In the meantime Pierrebon, looking well to the right and left, led the
horses towards the stables. Every shadow in the winding walk, every
recess in the over-grown privet, hid a secret enemy to him. He avoided
passing near the ruined summer-house for fear of the ambush that might
be within, and then, finding the hedges close in upon the road, boldly
took his beasts along the neglected parterres until at last he reached
the stables. Here, near the open door he saw Malsain, tall and thin,
but muscular and strong as whipcord, sitting down by the light of a
guttering candle to a meagre repast of bread and cheese, washed down
with water--for Malsain never touched wine.
"An evil-looking man," Pierrebon thought, as he glanced at Malsain
sitting on a stool; and evil-looking indeed he was, with his hawk's
face, thin cruel slit of a mouth, and one wicked eye that glowed with
the same sombre fire as the fuse of his arquebus, which leaned against
the wall behind him. And then from the man himself Pierrebon glanced
at the hermit's fare before him. "St. Siege!" he groaned, "bread and
cheese and cold water--with a dagger-thrust to follow for digestion,
perhaps."
But now Malsain heard him, his hand went out silently to the arquebus,
and he turned a yellow, threatening face towards the visitor.
"Hola!" exclaimed Pierrebon. "It is I. I have brought monsieur's
horses for a feed and a rest."
"Ho! it is you." And Malsain, putting down his arquebus, returned to
his cheese again as he added: "There are two stalls vacant there, and
you will find oats in that barrel." He had not, of course, it will be
understood, received Trotto's message as yet.
Pierrebon entered without further ceremony. There were already three
horses in the stables; but, as Malsain had said, there were still two
stalls vacant, and here he put the nags. Whilst attending to them,
however, he kept glancing uneasily at the supper before Malsain, which
was diminishing at a frightful rate, for the thin man ate like a
cormorant. At last, unable to endure this more, he stopped rubbing
down the brown hackney, and, stepping up to the table, took a seat on a
stool opposite Malsain. Then, drawing his dagger, he helped himself
without further ceremony to some cheese and bread, and glanced somewhat
ruefully into the jug of water.
"_Diable_!" grumbled Malsain, "you are eating my supper."
"Well," and Pierrebon looked at him, "am I not your guest, as my master
is your master's?"
Malsain said nothing, but scowled across the table at Pierrebon; and
the latter, who was as alert as a weasel when it came to the push, went
on: "But, _compere_, they feed you thinly here--and no wine!"
"I eat to my taste, and drink to my taste," growled Malsain; but
Pierrebon, not heeding his ill temper, continued:
"Now, with my master there is always a bottle of Rochecorbon, and a cut
from a pasty, not to mention a crown-piece here and a crown-piece
there; and I wager that in the house yonder there is something more
than acid cheese and dry bread for hunger, or spring water for thirst."
"Be silent, fool! Take what you can get, or leave it," said Malsain
sullenly, his hand slipping down to his side; but Pierrebon laughed
cheerily as he cut another slice of cheese, his two blue Burgundian
eyes steadily fixed on Malsain's sallow face, and as they looked at
each other there came a heavy footfall outside, and Piero called out in
his deep voice:
"Malsain! Here! A word with you!"
Malsain rose slowly, and went outside, and Pierrebon, following him
with his glance, saw Piero's huge figure in the moonlight, and a chill
came upon him.
"By St. Hugo! 'tis the ogre himself! And they consult together!" he
murmured, wishing himself a hundred miles away, and he watched the
twain moving off into the shadow, straining his ears to catch a word if
possible, but at first he could hear nothing. Thus a minute or so
passed, whilst the evil pair outside stood in the shadow of a copper
beech whispering together. If Pierrebon could but hear a word to guide
him! He dared not attempt to approach them, but was forced to stay
where he was. At last he caught something. Malsain laughed out like a
hyena: "I would slit their throats for fifty, and throw the Vidame into
that----" But Piero roughly bade him lower his voice, and the
whispering continued.
Pierrebon heard no more. That there was danger in the air he knew. He
had not forgotten my warning pressure on his arm as we entered the
gates of Le Jaquemart, and now his worst fears were confirmed. For a
moment his heart sank, but for a moment only, for as he looked around
him his eyes fell on the arquebus, where it leaned against the wall.
The fuse was still alight. There was no time to hesitate. Malsain was
already returning; and if it were to be war Pierrebon thought he might
as well begin, and strike the first blow. Quick as thought he arose,
and taking up the arquebus moved off near the horses, and he was
blowing on the match to hearten the fire when Malsain stepped in.
"Blood of a Jew! what are you doing with the arquebus, fool? Put it
down this instant, or I slit your throat." And Malsain, his poniard in
his hand, stood near the table, glaring savagely at Pierrebon.
"Pardon!" said Pierrebon. "I was but looking at it. 'Tis a noble
weapon. And one well suited to a soldier's hand."
"It could kill too, I wager," said Pierrebon, laughing, as he raised
the weapon, and pointed it at Malsain, who went back the step he had
taken, saying, with an oath,
"It is loaded, fool! Put it down at once."
"_Hein_! it is loaded. It would kill, then, if I fired--eh?" And
then, with a sudden change of voice and manner: "Ah, bandit! move a
step, utter the slightest cry, and you are a dead man! Throw down your
poniard!"
Malsain looked at the barrel of the arquebus. It was steady as a rock,
and behind the little black muzzle the match burned bravely; whilst
behind the match was a red face with two blue eyes that looked as if
they meant what their owner said. Malsain let his dagger drop with a
clash.
Pierrebon then advanced a couple of paces nearer, still holding the
arquebus at Malsain's breast.
"Now, my friend! Take that bridle from the peg at your hand and fasten
your ankles together. What!--you hesitate?"
Malsain hissed something between his teeth, and snatched the bridle
from the peg.
"Go on! A running knot--lap it well round, and finish off! There!
That is right! You are no novice, I see, _mon vieux_!"
Malsain made no answer, but stood bolt upright before Pierrebon, his
face grey, his one eye bloodshot, his lips livid. It is true that he
had tied himself as loosely as possible, but still he was terribly
crippled; and from his soul he regretted that he had not made a rush at
Pierrebon, and chanced his fortune; but now this was hopeless.
Worse, however, was to come, and it came at once.
"Now," said Pierrebon, "fasten your wrist to your ankle--your left
wrist."
"It is impossible," said Malsain thickly.
"Then I shall blow your brains out when I have counted three. One!"
Malsain looked about him with his red eye, and shuffled uneasily.
"Two!"
Malsain swore again, a nameless oath.
"Th----"
Malsain stooped down with the rapidity of lightning, and began fumbling
with the yard or so of trailing rein.
He tried to deceive Pierrebon; but the candle gave enough light to see,
and Pierrebon was sharp. There was no help for it, and at last it was
done, badly done, but enough to utterly cripple Malsain. The final
order now came:
"Now lie down on your face."
This was difficult; but there are circumstances under which men do all
but impossible things, and Malsain performed the feat.
After this the worthy Pierrebon took a more active part in the binding
of Malsain. Still holding the arquebus in one hand he unhitched
another bridle from its peg. Then, placing the arquebus at _his_ feet,
he drew his dagger and approached Malsain, upon whom he sat, and with a
gentle prick or so reminded him it was unsafe to struggle or cry. He
fastened up his free arm, and finished off the work in an artistic
manner. When it was over Malsain was like a trussed fowl. Pierrebon
stepped back, and surveyed his work with the satisfaction of one who
knows that he has done well.
"Ah, I had forgotten!" he exclaimed. Then he pulled from his pocket a
'kerchief. A touch at Malsain's throat with his poniard was hint
enough. Malsain opened his mouth, and the handkerchief, rolled into a
ball, was thrust inside.
Pierrebon fumbled once more in his pocket, and produced some stout
twine. He gave a little grunt of satisfaction as he lashed it around
Malsain's jaws, and felt at last that victory was his.
"It is complete--eh, _mon vieux_?"
And so saying he dragged Malsain with no tender hand across the
pavement of the stable. There was a black, vicious-looking cob in one
of the stalls. Pierrebon flung his victim on the straw near the beast.
"I should lie still," he said in warning; "the horse might kick."
Then he saddled up again, calmly selecting a third horse from the
stable, from a stall where he saw some ladies' saddlery.
"This will do for mademoiselle," he muttered as he glanced around him
with satisfaction; "all is ready here. And now for the ogre." Taking
up the arquebus he looked at the priming, and made his way cautiously
to the house.
CHAPTER IX
THE WHITE MASK
It is necessary to hark back a little now to the moment when Torquato
Trotto, having given his instructions to Piero, went into the house.
The stairway was empty, for both I and my charge were with La Marmotte,
and the Italian ran upstairs with a footfall as light as that of a cat.
On reaching the landing he stopped for a second, glanced around him,
with the same feline caution that marked all his movements, and then,
creeping forward on tiptoe, went along a corridor leading to a wing of
the house.
At the extreme end of this gallery was a door, at which Trotto knocked
softly. From within a strident voice said: "Come in!" Then followed
an exclamation of pain, and a free oath.
Trotto smiled, shrugged his shoulders, as only an Italian can, pushed
open the door, and entered the chamber. The spear-shaped flames of two
tall candles but half lit the room, making a circle of wavering light.
Beyond all was in uncertain gloom, through which one could dimly see
the old tapestry and massive furniture of bygone years.
Where the light was brightest was an easy-chair, and there sat Simon of
Orrain, with his bandaged right arm resting on a cushion, placed on a
low table drawn close to him. As Trotto entered he looked up with a
snarl.
"What is it? Did I not say I was to be left alone? Curse this arm!"
"Ah, excellency," and Trotto glanced at the throbbing arm, "you should
have waited for Aramon's return, or taken us with you." But Simon
broke in: "I tell you, Trotto, the plan was perfect, and if it had not
been for the accident of that villain's coming our bird would have been
here by this. Even when he came, if La Crotte had but stood his
ground--but there! Give me some of that wine. My blood is red hot,
and my throat on fire with the pain of this wound!"
Torquato Trotto filled a cup from a flagon that lay on the table near
the Vidame. Simon took it from him with his left hand, drained it, and
flung it from him, so that it struck the wainscoting of the wall, and
fell with a crash on the floor.
"La Crotte shall hang for this," he went on savagely. "The cur! the
coward!"
"You will make your wound worse, excellency. Be calm! There is time
for things to mend."
"Time! When the whole affair has been bungled--and by you."
"By me, excellency?"
"Yes; if you had given me Piero and Malsain instead of those
serving-wenches Billot and La Crotte."
Torquato lifted a deprecating hand. "They did well before, excellency;
and Billot could not have done better, for he is dead, you say. And as
for La Crotte----"
"He shall hang--hang to the first tree."
"As your excellency pleases. He has, however, to be caught first. But
in the meantime I have intruded on you because I think we can yet save
the game."
"Ugh!"
"Your excellency, I have a plan; and I think we win the odd trick."
"Well, what is your brilliant idea?"
Trotto coughed. "But the risk, excellency, is greatly increased now
that this man is mixed up in the affair."
Simon straightened himself in his chair and looked at the captain.
"I suppose you want more money. Well, what is your plan?"
"With your excellency's permission I will keep that to myself, for a
plan is a plan when one head holds it. But if I were to place your
prize in your hands by tomorrow morning?"
"Impossible!"
"But I say it is possible."
"Then five hundred crowns the day you reach Paris."
Trotto shook his head. "It could be done for a thousand,
excellency--for certain."
Simon's eyes seemed to sink back deeper into their hollow sockets, and
his face became paler, if possible.
"A thousand devils! Impossible! It's a fortune!"
"Your excellency is playing for a fortune; and this time we win--faith
of a gentleman! Make it a thousand crowns, and your bonny bird is
yours with the dawn, and I will myself perform the wedding ceremony if
you like."
"You?"
"Yes, excellency," and Trotto put his hand to the crown of his head.
"My hair has grown, but, you will remember, I am none the less a priest
for all that."
There was another silence. Simon knitted his brow, as if in thought.
Then he cursed again at his wounded arm, and spoke:
"It is an exorbitant sum; but I agree on one condition."
"And that is?"
"If you fail you get nothing; you have sucked enough from me already."
"As your excellency pleases." And then, bending for an instant over
the wounded arm: "He must have been a rare swordsman to have beaten
you."
Simon writhed in his chair. "Beaten me! I had the dog at my mercy,
but was not quick enough in the last parry."
"Ah, excellency, 'tis always that little delay that causes accidents
like this." And Trotto made a gesture towards the wounded arm; but
Simon snarled at him:
"Don't touch it, fool! Ugh! how it stings! There is one consolation,
however--that he must be squirming himself with pain now."
"Eh! Then you touched him?"
"Twice, Trotto, twice!"
"Ah! that accounts for his wearing his cloak so tightly over his left
shoulder."
Simon started: "Wearing his cloak so tightly! Have you seen him?"
Torquato nodded, and the Vidame went on impatiently: "Are you dreaming,
or am I? You have not been out of the house."
"But, excellency, benighted travellers might seek the house for rest
and a guide to the ford of the Mable." At these words a red flush came
over Simon's face, and he half rose from his chair.
"Here, here!" he exclaimed, his voice almost cracking with
excitement--"here!--in Le Jaquemart! My sword, Trotto--quick!" And he
shivered with pain as he attempted to stand; but Torquato made him sit
back, and when he had succeeded told him what is already known.
"And so," he concluded, "Malsain has by this time disposed of the
lackey, and La Marmotte is keeping the other birds amused until my
return. When it is all settled," and Trotto laughed, "your excellency
may make ready for the wedding, and La Marmotte will make a rare
bridesmaid." With these words he bowed, and went to the door, but
stopped at Simon's voice.
"Trotto!"
"Excellency!"
"Be sure, and fail not!"
"With a wounded man? Be happy, excellency! 'Twill be all over by
midnight. I will have it done before Aramon returns, to save sharing
the crowns. Good-night."
"Trotto!"
The captain put his head back through the door, and Simon said:
"Call me when 'tis over. I would see the carrion ere we put it away."
Trotto nodded, and closing the door left Simon of Orrain, full of
stinging pains in his body and burning evil thoughts in his soul, and
returning to us led the way to the supper-table. There, whilst we sat,
mademoiselle told them of her peril, and how she was rescued, and as
she concluded Trotto set down the cup of wine he was tasting, and
turning to me, said:
"I congratulate you, monsieur. I trust, however, that your wounds do
not hurt you?"
"Wounds!" exclaimed mademoiselle. "You are hurt, and you have said
never a word! Why did you not tell me? You must have them seen to at
once." And she rose from her seat. La Marmotte following her example,
and Trotto added his voice to hers, and was thanked with a look.
"It is nothing. There is some mistake. I have but a scratch that will
keep till the morning."
"But I insist," said mademoiselle. And Trotto put in with his soft
voice: "Mademoiselle, I am something of a leech, and will see to
monsieur's hurt at once." And then with a look at La Marmotte:
"Perhaps mademoiselle would like to repose until my men return. I
expect them every moment, and we could then arrange for your safe
passage."
And just at this moment, through the open window that looked out upon
the balcony, there came a scrambling noise, and the ivy outside shook
and rustled, as though a heavy body were forcing its way through it.
Trotto gave a quick glance over his shoulder, stepped out of the
window, on to the balcony, and looked around him, whilst I took the
opportunity to urge on mademoiselle to go and rest. I did so with the
object of having Trotto alone for a little with me, and to test the
situation. As I spoke La Marmotte looked at me with warning in her
eyes, and her lips, which had paled under their paint, moved as if she
were about to form some words, but could not speak. Ere matters could
proceed further, however, Trotto came in, with a laugh. "There is
nothing there," he said. "It must have been a cat; the wild cats here
grow to enormous size." And then taking up a candlestick he continued:
"I will myself see mademoiselle to her apartment." But La Marmotte
spoke now.
"Mademoiselle comes to my room. There is none other ready."
The captain bowed and smiled. "I will light you there then," he said,
and led the way to the door. As they went out La Marmotte, who was
last, dropped her handkerchief, and stooping to recover it made a
warning gesture to me; but I stared vacantly to my front.
As soon, however, as the door closed behind them, and I heard their
footsteps along the gallery, I pulled out the white mask, and lifting
the cover of a dish placed the mask within the dish and put back the
cover. Then drawing my sword I laid it between my knees, and, resuming
my seat, poured out some wine, and awaited Messire Torquato Trotto's
return. It was a fortunate thing that the wild cats of Fontevrault
were so large and heavy; and it was equally fortunate that Messire
Trotto, ex-priest, and now bandit or freelance, was aware of the fact,
else, perhaps, he might have examined the ledge that projected below
the parapet, and seen there an animal which, though large and heavy,
was of a different kind to the grey, striped prowlers of the forest.
He would, in fact, have seen Pierrebon, who after vainly trying to get
at Piero unobserved had determined to warn me, and succeeded with much
difficulty in making his way thus far.
Through the screen of the ivy Pierrebon watched us in the room, and
when I was alone he was about to step in at once, when he saw my
actions, and guessed that I too was on the alert.
"Good!" he thought, "he knows too. I had better wait here till I am
wanted. Ah! that is just the place!" Rising slowly, he climbed over
the parapet, and, with his arquebus ready, leaned up against the wall,
so that by moving his head slightly forward he could see into the room.
The night was warm and clear. A light breeze stirred the ivy, and
shook the leaves of the old lime, by whose aid Pierrebon had made his
ascent. Within I sat at the table, my cloak unclasped, now sipping my
wine, now gently touching with my finger the dark patch on my sleeve
near my shoulder. Without, Pierrebon stood on guard in the black
shadow. Down below, Piero began to sing, as only men of his country
can, and the deep bass voice, with all its liquid Italian words, pealed
melodiously into the night.
I listened, murmuring to myself: "Strange! Here is one who can sing of
his Alban hills and his Margarita one moment and cut a throat the next.
But here they come!"
For Trotto's voice had stopped the singer, and then I heard them coming
upstairs. The heavy step of Piero halted, however, in the passage, and
Trotto entered alone, rubbing his hands together as usual, his white
teeth shining between their setting of red lip and short black
moustache and beard. Of a truth Messire Torquato was a handsome man if
an evil one. He came in with a set smile on his face. "The ladies are
safely at rest, and----"
"And we can while away the time with this wine, some more supper, and a
little talk."
"But your wounds, monsieur! They must be attended to. I have told
Piero to bring up some salve and bandages."
"Bah!" I laughed, "let them keep. My wound, not wounds, is but a
scratch, and hurts far less than the one that lost you that
forefinger." And I pointed to his left hand, which wanted a forefinger.
The captain's eyes flashed, and he dropped his hand to his side, though
he said, calmly enough:
"I got that at Volterra. I was there with the Caraffa."
"And I with Enghien. You see, we were comrades-in-arms without knowing
it. 'Tis a pity we never met. We must fight our battles over again.
Come, let us drink to the old days!"
"With all my heart," was the reply. "A moment; and I will tell Piero
to wait." And he stepped to the door.
"Tell him to go to the devil," I said, and Trotto laughed, and after a
word or so exchanged with Piero he closed the door and came back to his
seat. "I have sent Piero off," he said, and pouring out a bumper for
each of us he raised his cup, saying: "Pledge me this toast, monsieur.
Long life to the bride and bridegroom!"
"Long life to the happy pair!" I clinked my cup with his, and drank,
my mind working like a clock to find out what was meant, my eyes never
moving from Trotto's face.
"Now," I said, "it is my turn. The wine, messire captain. And here is
my toast: Confusion to the enemies of Bertrand Broussel!"
There was, perhaps, some want of heartiness in the captain's voice as
he echoed the words but none in his manner of drinking, though he too
began to look, as if seeking for a hidden meaning in my words, and his
hand left his cup and dropped quietly to his side; but still I kept my
eyes on his, as I said:
"That wine of yours is a rare cordial, captain; it makes me ravenous.
Do you remember how we starved before Volterra?" And I filled my cup
again.
"Yes--well."
"We were not birds of paradise exactly, and yet we had to live on air
sometimes--and a thin enough diet it was. You will never guess what I
had for supper once--try!"
"I am bad at guessing, monsieur."
"A mask."
"A mask!"
"Yes. It was not bad with a little olive oil and vinegar; but the very
thought makes me hungry. What have you in that dish beside you?"
"Something better than a crape mask, I assure you." And Trotto put
aside the cover, only to let it fall with a little crash as he stared
at the white thing, and glanced up to meet my eyes, and hear my gibe.
"A little surprise I prepared for you--a delicate attention."
Trotto knew he was discovered. He began to breathe quickly, and his
hand once more went down.
"Divide it, captain," I mocked; "there is just enough for two--ah!"
And I caught his wrist as he made a sudden stab at me, and pulled him
half over the table, springing backwards to my feet as I did so. In
his confusion he pushed the table over, and fell sideways on the floor,
dragging with him the tablecloth and the supper.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20