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
I was now fairly well supplied with money, but took the opportunity to
write to my friend at Antwerp, bidding him send two hundred crowns of
the sun for me to the care of Le Brusquet. This, with many misgivings,
I entrusted to the King's post. It, however, arrived in safety, and I
got my money.
After supper that evening, as I was returning to my chamber, I heard a
commotion in the courtyard, and at first thought that Montluc had
returned. On inquiry, however, I found that this was not so, but that
certain prisoners of importance had been brought to the priory. I
could not find out who they were, nor, indeed, did I try much, but took
myself off.
So far things were going well with me, and I felt myself justified in
the hope that the famine years were coming to an end. I saw the
sentence of the Chambre Ardente against me cancelled, and began to see
also fine castles in dreamland, and with all these I unconsciously
began to associate Diane. I laughed at my folly, tried to set it
aside; but back came the thought to me, in such a manner that I felt
that every step I was about to take to win back my place was not for
myself but for her sake. And the fear of his own unworthiness, which
comes to every man who truly loves, came upon me, and with it the ghost
of that duel of days long past.
There I had sinned, and sinned deeply, and it was poor consolation to
tell myself that the man does not live whose life could stand sunshine
on it. For me it was enough to know that I had committed a grievous
wrong; it was for me to find out how to right it, or make
compensation--empty regrets were useless.
Of that affair it may be as well to speak freely here. Amongst my
friends in the red days was one who was to me as David to Jonathan.
Godefrey de la Mothe was of an old family of the Tarantaise, and his
career at college had been of exceptional brilliancy. Some years my
senior, he had at first acquired great influence over me, an influence
ever exercised for my good. This lasted until my return from the
Italian campaign, when, seeing ruin staring me in the face, I had let
everything go, and sought to drown my sorrows in dissipation. My
friend strove to stay me; but, driven to madness, I repulsed all his
kindness. One day we met near the Louvre, in such a manner that there
was no avoiding him. He began to expostulate with me on my latest
folly. I answered back hotly, and at last there were high words
between us, and that was said by me for which there was but one remedy;
and he fell, as is known. Since then I could only regret. But now
there was punishment as well as regret. With the memory of this could
I dare to think of Diane? There was only one answer, and with that
answer I began to realise that what comes to all men had come to me,
and that I loved. In his gibing way Le Brusquet had said that a man
feels conscious of love in the same manner as he feels a sudden chill.
The words came back to me, and I laughed sadly, for there was truth in
them.
I own that the blue-devils took me to such an extent that I had
thoughts of abandoning everything; but this soon passed, and I made up
my mind to right things as far as man could, and leave the issue in the
hands of God. I had been paying for my sins for so many years that the
debt was almost quitted, and a stout heart would, perhaps, bring me to
shore.
Nevertheless, I passed a white night, and rising early in the morning
rode out of the city by the Porte de Rochereuil, returning about ten
o'clock. On coming back I found that M. de Montluc had returned, and
had desired to see me at once. I was about to dismount when Sarlaboux,
who had recovered his temper, which he lost over the affair of the
diamond, informed me that the General had gone on to the Tour de
l'Oiseau, and I had better follow him there if I thought the matter of
sufficient importance. This I did, and as soon as ever Pierrebon, whom
I gave orders to accompany me, was ready we set forth, and Sarlaboux
came with us. Whilst waiting for Pierrebon he told me that Montluc had
utterly broken the Huguenot leader De Ganache near Richelieu, and taken
him prisoner.
"Were any others taken?"
"Probably; and must be trying to hang as gracefully as walnuts now.
Menorval tells me that the old fox of Chatillon got off, though with a
singed tail."
I began to breathe more freely. If the Cardinal had escaped it was
more than probable that mademoiselle was safe; but I resolved to make
sure.
"There were no ladies taken, were there?"
Sarlaboux cocked his eye and looked at me. "_Eh bien_! My dear
monsieur, are you finding it dull here? If so, I confess so do I.
This is a city of the saints. Alas, no! There were no ladies taken,
as far as I know; only De Ganache."
"Then it was he who arrived last night?"
"No; he was brought in by Montluc himself this morning, and it strikes
me that he will never see the sun set. He has been taken to the Tour
de l'Oiseau where Montluc has just gone, and which we had better reach
as soon as possible if we wish to see things."
I had to be content with this, and Pierrebon being ready we started off
at a smart canter. The news I had heard had set my heart going, and it
was in no enviable frame of mind that I drew up at the entrance to the
Tour de l'Oiseau. The full strength of the Light Horse, their red and
white pennons fluttering in the air, were trooped around the tower, and
it was evident that something was about to happen, for the faces of all
were grave, and all eyes kept scanning the battlements. Giving my
reins to Pierrebon I passed in with Sarlaboux, and running up the
stairs reached the top of the tower. There we found Montluc standing,
with half a dozen or so of his officers around him, and before him a
young man, his head bare, and his hands bound behind him, stood facing
Montluc. It was De Ganache.
We took our places silently in the group just as Montluc spoke, in a
harsh, stern voice:
"M. de Ganache, your crimes are heavy, and you are about to pay for
them. I bear no malice against you. I set aside my private wrongs,
the plunder of my Chateau of Estillac, the burning of my woods, and the
wanton destruction of my papers and manuscripts collected by me with
immense care."
De Ganache laughed mockingly, and the blue veins stood out on Montluc's
forehead. If the issue had not been so terrible there was room, in
truth, for a smile, as he went on, with a gasp of rage:
"What I hold against you is that you have been taken armed--a rebel
against your King and your God. I am going to make an example of you,
and shall deal out to you the same mercy you showed to Champagnac,
and----"
"Enough, monsieur!" said the prisoner; "let this talking end. If I
have to die, let me die. I do not want a priest. I die in my faith,
which is not yours. Let the matter end quickly, and be done with it."
A grim smile played on Montluc's lips as he leaned heavily on his sword.
"Well, be it so! I will not keep you. Supposing we say a leap."
"A leap?"
"Yes--from these battlements. If not, you will hang."
"Hang!--I!" And a flush came on the young noble's face.
"Precisely. Champagnac was hanged, if you remember, and it is the fate
you reserved for me. You, however, have a choice."
For a moment there was a silence, and Montluc made a sign to the guards
on either side of De Ganache to move away, and he was left free, except
that his hands were fastened. With a half turn he looked over the
battlements and gazed down from their dizzy height, and as he appeared
at the embrasure there arose a hoarse cry from below. He drew back,
and faced Montluc again.
"Is it to be like this?" he asked thickly, making a motion to indicate
his tied hands.
"Yes; you will fall easier."
At this brutal answer De Ganache looked hopelessly around, as if
imploring help. His fortitude seemed to give way, and he began to
shiver in an uncontrollable manner. I could endure it no longer, and
made a step forward; but, growling something that I did not catch,
Sarlaboux seized me by the arm and drew me back. Just at this moment
Montluc laughed a bitter, stinging laugh; and the wretched prisoner,
swinging round, nerved himself to step again to the embrasure, and
stopped there tottering. Again the shout rose from below, and Montluc
rasped out:
"Come, De Ganache, two looks are enough!"
"I'll give you three to do it in, Monsieur de Montluc," I burst forth,
and shaking Sarlaboux off stepped up to the General.
"You!" he snarled.
"Monsieur," I exclaimed, "this will cover you with shame! This is the
act of a tiger, not a man. Forbear!--for the sake of your own fame,
your own honour."
There was a low murmur behind me; even the stolid guards glanced at
each other; but Montluc, after one swift, angry look at me, kept his
head down, and made no answer, standing glowering at the hilt of his
sword as one who did not hear.
It was De Ganache, however, who spoke. He had plucked up heart again
after his weakness.
"There is at least one gentleman here! Let him alone, monsieur! Plead
not! After all, death is but death." But I stayed him with uplifted
hand, and went on: "Monsieur de Montluc, you will ever regret this.
Will you soil your glory with this act of shame?"
Our eyes met, and the sombre fury in his look dropped before my gaze.
I saw my advantage, and approaching closer to him urged him again, and
to my joy he began to waver. Suddenly he turned from me, and walking
to the battlements looked down himself, remaining there for a space
amidst an absolute silence, broken but once by the uneasy clink of a
spur.
So he stood, and we waited breathlessly, for all hung on a hair; and
then as suddenly he turned to us, his face looking older and more
wrinkled than ever.
"M. de Ganache," he said in a hard voice, "you are free. Guards, loose
him!"
Without another word or look he stepped forward, and began to limp
slowly down the winding stair.
CHAPTER XIV
MADEMOISELLE DE PARADIS
As the guards cut the cords that bound De Ganache's arms those who were
on the tower crowded round to congratulate him; but he seemed dazed,
and unable to realise his fortune. With an effort, however, he brought
himself together, and silently took my hand. He could not speak, but I
understood; and now Sarlaboux urged an immediate move, saying that the
sooner De Ganache was away the better, as there was no knowing what
might happen next. With this he led the way down, and we followed.
On coming forth from the tower we found that the troops were already
moving away, though many of the officers remained behind, and came up
to us, out of curiosity to learn what had happened. At first we could
not see Montluc anywhere, but a voice called out: "There is the
General!" And looking, we saw a lonely figure in the distance
galloping by the Marais de St. Hilaire. Then he turned the angle of
the great priory. There was a flash of his red plume, a glitter of
sunlight on his corselet, and he was gone.
"If you take my advice, monsieur," I said to De Ganache, "you will be
off at once. Here is a horse--and there is the open gate." And with
this I placed the reins of my nag, which Pierrebon had brought up, in
his hand. The enthusiasm of the moment caught all. Menorval of the
Light Horse gave him a sword, someone else a hat, another a cloak. The
colour came and went from De Ganache's sunburnt face as, stammering his
thanks, he mounted. Then he put out his hand to me. "Monsieur," he
said, "I can never forget; and De Ganache is ever your friend. _Au
revoir_, gentlemen!" So, giving the reins to the horse, he galloped
out of the gate, which was but a stonethrow distant. As he crossed the
bridge he turned in the saddle and waved his hand in farewell, and then
we lost him in the hollow ground beyond.
Mounting Pierrebon's horse I joined the others, and we rode back to the
priory--Menorval swearing that I must be a magician, as never before
had he known Montluc yield as he had done this morning.
As for me, though surprised at the result, my satisfaction was
increased by the thought that in aiding De Ganache I had helped one who
was a friend of mademoiselle. It was not this that had prompted me to
intervene on his behalf. Had it been anyone else I should have acted
as I had done. De Ganache was not clean-handed. He had shown little
mercy to those who fell into his hands, and when face to face with
death he had shown the white feather, though at the last he seemed to
recover himself. Still, guilty though he may have been, his death
would have been a crime, and it was something to think I had stood
between Montluc and that terrible blood madness which at times
possessed him.
On arrival at the Capuchins my first thought was to see Montluc at
once, and although Sarlaboux and others tried to dissuade me I
persisted in my design, and found myself once more before the door of
his cabinet. On my entering he received me coldly, and, without making
any reference to what had just happened, inquired my business as if he
had totally forgotten his summons to me. I explained that I was there
in obedience to his request to see me, and after a moment of thought he
said:
"You recollect I told you I would probably entrust you with a
commission to the Queen? Are you ready to undertake it?"
"Perfectly."
"You will have to go back to Paris; but that is your way. When can you
start?"
It was not wise to think of a return to Paris; but I had gone too far
to shrink back now, and besides, I was beginning to believe again in my
star. So I gulped down my fears, and put a bold front on the matter,
saying:
"As soon as I can get a horse, monsieur."
"Ho!" And we looked at each other steadily. A faint smile bent his
iron lips, and, muttering something in his beard, he took up a pen,
scratched a few lines, and handed me the paper. I glanced at it, and
saw it was an order to give me any horse I liked from his stable. I
began to thank him; but he stopped me, saying:
"Show the order to Sarlaboux; and if you take my advice you will choose
Lizette, the dun mare. She will well replace the one you have--lost."
"I well know how to value such a gift, monsieur."
"Here there is a packet for the Queen; but this is not your task. I am
going to entrust you with a prisoner, whom you will place in the
Queen's hands."
"Monsieur," I began; but he read my thoughts ere I had spoken them.
"Oh, it is no catch-poll's business; I have others to do that. This
lady is only a nominal prisoner----"
"It's a woman, then?" And my thoughts went back to mademoiselle.
Could Sarlaboux have been mistaken?
"Yes; and remember that her life depends upon her reaching the Queen,
though she does not believe it."
"May I ask this lady's name?"
"Mademoiselle de Paradis, the greatest heiress in Poitou, but a
Huguenot to her little finger-tips."
"In that case, monsieur, the Queen's mantle of protection is likely to
be a shroud."
"You do not understand," he snapped. "Mademoiselle, or rather her
lands, have attracted the attention of Diane de Poitiers and her brood
of swallows. The Queen would give her right hand to thwart the
mistress in this, and she, and only she, can save her. Montpensier
will be here in a fortnight, and I shall be gone. You know, I think,
what that means. I give you my word of honour, monsieur, that this
lady's life is on a hair. Why I should trouble about it I don't know;
but the Queen has commanded me in this, and Jean de Paradis, her
father, was my old friend, and for his sake I would save his child.
But you seem to be sniffing the air over this, M. Broussel----"
"I was, monsieur! But now I accept the task."
"Very well. You will arrange, then, to start at three. I shall see
that mademoiselle is ready. You will have four good swords with you;
and, remember, she is your prisoner, rescue or no rescue."
I bowed, and was turning to go, when he stopped me.
"A word more! Trust not a soul, King's man or Huguenot--do not even
trust her. It is said that she is the promised wife of De Ganache. If
that story is true I promise you trouble, but you have yourself to
thank for it." And he rose and accompanied me to his door. It was the
only allusion he made to what had happened on the tower, and never
again did he refer to it.
I had more than guessed who my prisoner was, though, of course, I was
not sure, and the mention of De Ganache in connection with her had
struck me like a blow. But it was hardly the time to think of matters
like this, and putting it aside with a firm hand I hurried to my
quarters, where to my annoyance I found the Capuchin Grigolet. I
guessed his needs, and a brace of crowns to further the conversion of
the Jewess rid me of the rascal. Then bidding Pierrebon be ready to
start in a couple of hours I went in search of Sarlaboux.
I found that worthy in the archway of the main gate playing at cards
with Menorval.
"Ogier beats you." And Menorval put down the knave of spades.
"Out upon the knave! Here is Pallas." And Sarlaboux covered the knave
with the queen.
"And David, the king, takes the game," laughed Menorval as he picked up
the stakes and began to shuffle once more.
With an apology for interrupting them I showed Sarlaboux my order,
whereupon, with many exclamations at my good luck, he led the way to
the stable, followed by Menorval and myself.
"_Morbleu_!" grumbled Menorval, "if this is the pay that royal
messengers get, away with my gilt spurs, and give me the wings of
Mercury to my heels."
And so, laughing, we reached the stables, where Sarlaboux bid me take
my choice, his face falling a little when he saw me halt before the dun
mare. From her looks I saw she was likely to carry me well; and then,
there was Montluc's own recommendation.
"I will take Lizette," I said.
"Then you take the best horse in all Poitou." And Menorval then and
there offered me a hundred crowns for her, which, needless to say, I
refused.
At the appointed time, accompanied by Pierrebon, I rode into the
courtyard of the priory, and found there the men whom Montluc had
promised me. They had with them a sumpter horse, whilst a third, which
was evidently intended for my prisoner, was held by a groom. I had
some little time to wait, which I passed in no enviable frame of mind.
Dismounting, I looked carefully at the saddlery of my party, and then
paced up and down the flagged court in converse with Sarlaboux, who
must have found me somewhat dull, for he rallied me, offering, if I
liked not the task of taking a pretty woman all the way to Paris, to
take my place, as he had need of a wife and a dowry to rebuild his
house. It was in the midst of one of his sallies that the door opened,
and Montluc appeared on the steps, and by his side--Diane. There was
not a doubt of it; and for a moment I became hot and cold all over,
but, collecting myself, advanced to meet them. As I came forward I saw
mademoiselle start slightly, make a half step towards me, and draw
back, and then Montluc said:
"This gentleman, mademoiselle, will be your escort to Paris."
I bowed, saying nothing, but she held out her hand.
"Monsieur, I had hoped you would have known me."
I confess I was tongue-tied, and could only mutter something, and
Montluc glanced from the one to the other of us.
"Then you are already acquainted?" he asked in surprise.
"Mademoiselle is the lady to whom, as I have mentioned to you,
monsieur, I was enabled to render a slight service----"
"That is what he calls saving my life, Monsieur de Montluc. I have at
any rate to thank you for giving me a friend for my jailor. There is
but one more kindness I ask of you----"
"And that is----?"
"Let this gentleman escort me to Chatellerault. I do not want to go to
Paris."
Montluc held up his hand. "That is the old cry, mademoiselle. It is
impossible! The Queen's orders are final."
"And you call yourself my dead father's friend?"
Montluc smiled grimly. "I saved his life at Pavia. That was
thirty-three years ago. But that has nothing to do with the matter.
You cannot stay here. You cannot stay at Chatellerault. You must go
to Paris, and it is growing late."
She flushed all over, but again returned to her point.
"You have time after time told me I am not a prisoner. Why, then----"
"Because Chatellerault no longer contains your friends, and Monsieur de
Randan now commands there."
She turned as white now as she had been red before, and a bitter pang
of jealousy went through me as I thought for whom all this feeling was;
but she brought herself together and faced Montluc.
"Very well, monsieur. I understand your friendship and your kindness
now. I tell you plainly that I will escape at the first opportunity.
I shall never reach Paris."
"That is M. Broussel's affair; and, mademoiselle, the marches are long
in Poitou."
She gave him no answer, but, as it were, resigning herself to the
present, went up to her horse, accepting only the assistance of the
groom to mount.
When all was ready Montluc called me aside, and we stood together for a
moment on the wide steps.
"_Mordieu_!" he muttered as he glanced at mademoiselle, "I do not envy
your task. Upon my soul, I am glad that Jean de Paradis won her
mother's hand and not I!" And then in an altered manner:
"I have your word to do all that man can for her safety?"
"I have said so, monsieur."
There was a little silence, and he stretched out a lean hand.
"Monsieur, forget not: there is room for you in Italy; it would gladden
me to see the golden cock of Orrain once more upon the field. And now
go."
CHAPTER XV
MY PRISONER
We left Poitiers by the Porte de Rochereuil, as I had no mind to be
shut within the angle between the Clain and the Vienne, whence escape
would be a difficult matter if trouble arose. Whilst crossing the
bridge my eyes fell on a rock on the opposite bank of the river which
commanded the faubourg, and even held in check the old fortress of Jean
de Berri, which guarded the junction of the Clain and Boivre on our
left. I made a mental note of this, and years after I was to use this
knowledge to some purpose when I stood by Coligny's side before
Poitiers.
I had sent forward two of my men, with instructions to make
arrangements for our accommodation for the night at Les Barres. I
deemed it inadvisable to go on to Chatellerault, and Les Barres was a
convenient halting-place, as there was no moon now, and there could be
little travelling after sundown. Moreover, I wished to spare my charge
as much as possible.
For these reasons we travelled at an easy pace, mademoiselle riding by
herself a few yards ahead, for I confess that after a few civil words
had passed between us I had taken the opportunity to fall back. This I
did under pretence of giving instructions to Pierrebon, though I never
spoke a word to him. Frankly, I was in a state that made me bad
company, and I desired to be alone. The face of De Ganache seemed ever
to be between me and Diane, and I morosely kept to myself, envying the
lot of Adam, who was the only man who never had a rival, torturing
myself, as is the custom with lovers, with a thousand suspicions, and
cursing myself for a fool in having undertaken this task.
Nevertheless, I am sure, such is the frailty of man, that were it to be
all over again I would do in this matter all I had done before.
In fact, I was grasping the truth of what I had often laughed at--that
there is none so skilled in making dragons out of beetles as the man
who is in love and knows not if he is winning or losing.
We kept to the left bank of the Clain, taking a track that led over a
sad and barren plain, once the garden of France. Except immediately
around the city and the few hamlets we passed there was scarce a crop
to be seen, and but for an abandoned vineyard, or here and there a
solitary tree, brooding like a mourner over the dead, all was a dreary
waste. There was little or no sign of life on this sullen and
melancholy landscape. Occasionally we met a peasant making his way to
some half-ruined hamlet, and driving before him a flock of geese with
the aid of a long stick, to one end of which he had tied a plume of
rags. At sight of us he, as a rule, left his birds to take care of
themselves, and vanished like a rabbit into one of the ravines that
cross and recross the plain in a network. And this was the King's
peace in Poitou!
My troopers rode stolidly on, taking turns with the led horse, and now
and again exchanging a word with each other. Pierrebon followed behind
them, whistling the "Rappel d'Aunis." I kept to myself, as I have
said, full of sombre thoughts, but watching mademoiselle as she rode
about twenty paces or so in front of me. She never turned her head,
but I observed that she was scanning the country on either side
carefully.
Beyond Chasseneuil is a wide plain, and the track here meets the road
to Thouars. I was looking at the slender spire of Miribeau, which
stood out against the rising ground that stretched towards Lencloitre
and beyond, when I was startled by the sudden galloping of a horse. It
was mademoiselle, who had turned sharply to the left, and was urging
her horse at full speed towards Miribeau. We reined up amidst
exclamations from the men; and the fugitive, who had got a fair
distance off by this, looked back and laughed at us. It was a brave
attempt at escape, and she evidently felt sure of her horse; but I had
a mind to try the mettle of Montluc's gift to me, and so I told the men
to go on quietly, and then, turning Lizette, followed Diane at an easy
canter. As I did so, and felt the power of the long, swinging stride
beneath me I smiled to myself whilst I watched the little Norman my
charge rode stretching himself like a greyhound. Once more Diane
looked back; and then I accepted the challenge, and gave the dun a free
rein.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 | 8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14 |
15 |
16 |
17 |
18 |
19 |
20