CHAPTER V. THE ROAD TO BLOIS.
We gained the road without let or hindrance, whence a sharp burst in themoonlight soon brought us to the village. Through this we swept onto the inn, almost running over the four evangelists, whom we foundstanding at the door ready for the saddle. I bade them, in a quickperemptory tone, to get to horse, and was overjoyed to see them obeywithout demur or word of Fresnoy. In another minute, with a greatclatter of hoofs, we sprang clear of the hamlet, and were well on theroad to Melle, with Poitiers some thirteen leagues before us. I lookedback, and thought I discerned lights moving in the direction of thechateau; but the dawn was still two hours off, and the moonlight leftme in doubt whether these were real or the creatures of my own fearfulfancy.
I remember, three years before this time, on the occasion of the famousretreat from Angers--when the Prince of Conde had involved his armybeyond the Loire, and saw himself, in the impossibility of recrossingthe river, compelled to take ship for England, leaving every one toshift for himself--I well remember on that occasion riding, alone andpistol in hand, through more than thirty miles of the enemy's countrywithout drawing rein. But my anxieties were then confined to the fourshoes of my horse. The dangers to which I was exposed at every ford andcross road were such as are inseparable from a campaign, and breed ingenerous hearts only a fierce pleasure, rarely to be otherwise enjoyed.And though I then rode warily, and where I could not carry terror,had all to fear myself, there was nothing secret or underhand in mybusiness.
It was very different now. During the first few hours of our flight fromChize I experienced a painful excitement, an alarm, a feverish anxietyto get forward, which was new to me; which oppressed my spirits to thevery ground; which led me to take every sound borne to us on the windfor the sound of pursuit, transforming the clang of a hammer on theanvil into the ring of swords, and the voices of my own men into thoseof the pursuers. It was in vain mademoiselle rode with a free hand, andleaping such obstacles as lay in our way, gave promise of courage andendurance beyond my expectations. I could think of nothing but the threelong day's before us, with twenty-four hours to every day, and each hourfraught with a hundred chances of disaster and ruin.
In fact, the longer I considered our position--and as we pounded along,now splashing through a founderous hollow, now stumbling as we woundover a stony shoulder, I had ample time to reflect upon it--the greaterseemed the difficulties before us. The loss of Fresnoy, while it freedme from some embarrassment, meant also the loss of a good sword, and wehad mustered only too few before. The country which lay between us andthe Loire, being the borderland between our party and the League, hadbeen laid desolate so often as to be abandoned to pillage and disorderof every kind. The peasants had flocked into the towns. Their placeshad been taken by bands of robbers and deserters from both parties,who haunted the ruined villages about Poitiers, and preyed upon all whodared to pass. To add to our perils, the royal army under the Duke ofNevers was reported to be moving slowly southward, not very far to theleft of our road; while a Huguenot expedition against Niort was also inprogress within a few leagues of us.
With four staunch and trustworthy comrades at my back, I might havefaced even this situation with a smile and a light heart; but theknowledge that my four knaves might mutiny at any moment, or, worsestill, rid themselves of me and all restraint by a single treacherousblow such as Fresnoy had aimed at me, filled me with an ever-presentdread; which it taxed my utmost energies to hide from them, and which Istrove in vain to conceal from mademoiselle's keener vision.
Whether it was this had an effect upon her, giving her a meaner opinionof me than that which I had for a while hoped she entertained, or thatshe began, now it was too late, to regret her flight and resent mypart in it, I scarcely know; but from daybreak onwards she assumed anattitude of cold suspicion towards me, which was only less unpleasantthan the scornful distance of her manner when she deigned, which wasseldom, to address me.
Not once did she allow me to forget that I was in her eyes a needyadventurer, paid by her friends to escort her to a place of safety, butwithout any claim to the smallest privilege of intimacy or equality.When I would have adjusted her saddle, she bade her woman come and holdup her skirt, that my hands might not touch its hem even by accident.And when I would have brought wine to her at Melle, where we stayed fortwenty minutes, she called Fanchette to hand it to her. She rode forthe most part in her mask; and with her woman. One good effect only herpride and reserve had; they impressed our men with a strong sense ofher importance, and the danger to which any interference with her mightexpose them.
The two men whom Fresnoy had enlisted I directed to ride a score ofpaces in advance. Luke and John I placed in the rear. In this mannerI thought to keep them somewhat apart. For myself, I proposed to rideabreast of mademoiselle, but she made it so clear that my neighbourhooddispleased her that I fell back, leaving her to ride with Fanchette; andcontented myself with plodding at their heels, and striving to attachthe later evangelists to my interests.
We were so fortunate, despite my fears, as to find the road nearlydeserted--as, alas, was much of the country on either side--and to meetnone but small parties travelling along it; who were glad enough, seeingthe villainous looks of our outriders, to give us a wide berth, and bequit of us for the fright. We skirted Lusignan, shunning the streets,but passing near enough for me to point out to mademoiselle the site ofthe famous tower built, according to tradition, by the fairy Melusina,and rased thirteen years back by the Leaguers. She received myinformation so frigidly, however, that I offered no more, but fell backshrugging my shoulders, and rode in silence, until, some two hours afternoon, the city of Poitiers came into sight, lying within its circle ofwalls and towers on a low hill in the middle of a country clothed insummer with rich vineyards, but now brown and bare and cheerless to theeye.
Fanchette turned and asked me abruptly if that were Poitiers.
I answered that it was, but added that for certain reasons I proposednot to halt, but to lie at a village a league beyond the city, wherethere was a tolerable inn.
'We shall do very well here,' the woman answered rudely. 'Any way, mylady will go no farther. She is tired and cold, and wet besides, and hasgone far enough.'
'Still,' I answered, nettled by the woman's familiarity, 'I thinkmademoiselle will change her mind when she hears my reasons for goingfarther.'
'Mademoiselle does not wish to hear them, sir,' the lady repliedherself, and very sharply.
'Nevertheless, I think you had better hear them,' I persisted, turningto her respectfully. 'You see, mademoiselle--'
'I see only one thing, sir,' she exclaimed, snatching off her mask anddisplaying a countenance beautiful indeed, but flushed for the momentwith anger and impatience, 'that, whatever betides, I stay at Poitiersto-night.'
'If it would content you to rest an hour?' I suggested gently.
'It will not content me!' she rejoined with spirit. 'And let me tellyou, sir,' she went on impetuously, 'once for all, that you take toomuch upon yourself. You are here to escort me, and to give orders tothese ragamuffins, for they are nothing better, with whom you havethought fit to disgrace our company; but not to give orders to me orto control my movements. Confine yourself for the future, sir, to yourduties, if you please.'
'I desire only to obey you,' I answered, suppressing the angry feelingswhich rose in my breast, and speaking as coolly as lay in my power.'But, as the first of my duties is to provide for your safety, I amdetermined to omit nothing which can conduce to that end. You have notconsidered that, if a party in pursuit of us reaches Poitiers to-night,search will be made for us in the city, and we shall be taken. If, onthe other hand, we are known to have passed through, the hunt may go nofarther; certainly will go no farther to-night. Therefore we must not,mademoiselle,' I added firmly, 'lie in Poitiers to-night.'
'Sir,' she exclaimed, looking at me, her face crimson with wonder andindignation, 'do you dare to--?'
'I dare do my duty, mademoiselle,' I answered, pl
ucking up a spirit,though my heart was sore. 'I am a man old enough to be your father, andwith little to lose, or I had not been here. I care nothing what youthink or what you say of me, provided I can do what I have undertakento do and place you safely in the hands of your friends. But enough,mademoiselle, we are at the gate. If you will permit me, I will ridethrough the streets beside you. We shall so attract less attention.'
Without waiting for a permission which she was very unlikely to give,I pushed my horse forward, and took my place beside her, signing toFanchette to fall back. The maid obeyed, speechless with indignation;while mademoiselle flashed a scathing glance at me and looked round inhelpless anger, as though it was in her mind to appeal against me evento the passers-by. But she thought better of it, and contenting herselfwith muttering the word 'Impertinent' put on her mask with fingers whichtrembled, I fancy, not a little.
A small rain was falling and the afternoon was well advanced when weentered the town, but I noticed that, notwithstanding this, the streetspresented a busy and animated appearance, being full of knots of peopleengaged in earnest talk. A bell was tolling somewhere, and near thecathedral a crowd of no little size was standing, listening to a manwho seemed to be rending a placard or manifesto attached to the wall. Inanother place a soldier, wearing the crimson colours of the League,but splashed and stained as with recent travel, was holding forth toa breathless circle who seemed to hang upon his lips. A neighbouringcorner sheltered a handful of priests who whispered together with gloomyfaces. Many stared at us as we passed, and some would have spoken; but Irode steadily on, inviting no converse. Nevertheless at the north gate Igot a rare fright; for, though it wanted a full half-hour of sunset,the porter was in the act of closing it. Seeing us, he waited grumblinguntil we came up, and then muttered, in answer to my remonstrance,something about queer times and wilful people having their way. Itook little notice of what he said, however, being anxious only to getthrough the gate and leave as few traces of our passage as might be.
As soon as we were outside the town I fell back, permitting Fanchette totake my place. For another league, a long and dreary one, we ploddedon in silence, horses and men alike jaded and sullen, and the womenscarcely able to keep their saddles for fatigue. At last, much to myrelief, seeing that I began to fear I had taxed mademoiselle's strengthtoo far, the long low buildings of the inn at which I proposed to staycame in sight, at the crossing of the road and river. The place lookedblank and cheerless, for the dusk was thickening; but as we trailed oneby one into the courtyard a stream of firelight burst on us from doorsand windows, and a dozen sounds of life and comfort greeted our ears.
Noticing that mademoiselle was benumbed and cramped with long sitting, Iwould have helped her to dismount; but she fiercely rejected my aid, andI had to content myself with requesting the landlord to assign the bestaccommodation he had to the lady and her attendant, and secure as muchprivacy for them as possible. The man assented very civilly and said allshould be done; but I noticed that his eyes wandered while I talked, andthat he seemed to have something on his mind. When he returned, afterdisposing of them, it came out.
'Did you ever happen to see him, sir?' he asked with a sigh; yet wasthere a smug air of pleasure mingled with his melancholy.
'See whom?' I answered, staring at him, for neither of us had mentionedany one.
'The Duke, sir.'
I stared again between wonder and suspicion. 'The Duke of Nevers is notin this part, is he?' I said slowly. 'I heard he was on the Brittanyborder, away to the westward.'
'Mon Dieu!' my host exclaimed, raising his hands in astonishment. 'Youhave not heard, sir?'
'I have heard nothing,' I answered impatiently.
'You have not heard, sir, that the most puissant and illustrious lordthe Duke of Guise is dead?'
'M. de Guise dead? It is not true!' I cried astonished.
He nodded, however, several times with an air of great importance, andseemed as if he would have gone on to give me some particulars. But,remembering, as I fancied, that he spoke in the hearing of half-a-dozenguests who sat about the great fire behind me, and had both eyes andears open, he contented himself with shifting his towel to his other armand adding only, 'Yes, sir, dead as any nail. The news came through hereyesterday, and made a pretty stir. It happened at Blois the day but onebefore Christmas, if all be true.'
I was thunderstruck. This was news which might change the face ofFrance. 'How did it happen?' I asked.
My host covered his mouth with his hand and coughed, and, privilytwitching my sleeve, gave me to understand with some shamefacednessthat he could not say more in public. I was about to make some excuse toretire with him, when a harsh voice, addressed apparently to me, causedme to turn sharply. I found at my elbow a tall thin-faced monk in thehabit of the Jacobin order. He had risen from his seat beside the fire,and seemed to be labouring under great excitement.
'Who asked how it happened?' he cried, rolling his eyes in a kind offrenzy, while still observant, or I was much mistaken, of his listeners.Is there a man in France to whom the tale has not been told? Is there?'
'I will answer for one,' I replied, regarding him with little favour. 'Ihave heard nothing.'
'Then you shall! Listen!' he exclaimed, raising his right hand andbrandishing it as though he denounced a person then present. 'Hear myaccusation, made in the name of Mother Church and the saints againstthe arch hypocrite, the perjurer and assassin sitting in high places! Heshall be Anathema Maranatha, for he has shed the blood of the holy andthe pure, the chosen of Heaven! He shall go down to the pit, and thatsoon. The blood that he has shed shall be required of him, and thatbefore he is one year older.'
'Tut-tut. All that sounds very fine, good father,' I said, waxingimpatient, and a little scornful; for I saw that he was one of thosewandering and often crazy monks in whom the League found their mostuseful emissaries. 'But I should profit more by your gentle words, if Iknew whom you were cursing.'
'The man of blood!' he cried; 'through whom the last but not the leastof God's saints and martyrs entered into glory on the Friday beforeChristmas.'
Moved by such profanity, and judging him, notwithstanding theextravagance of his words and gestures, to be less mad than he seemed,and at least as much knave as fool, I bade him sternly have done withhis cursing, and proceed to his story if he had one.
He glowered at me for a moment, as though he were minded to launchhis spiritual weapons at my head; but as I returned his glare with anunmoved eye--and my four rascals, who were as impatient as myself tolearn the news, and had scarce more reverence for a shaven crown, beganto murmur--he thought better of it, and cooling as suddenly as he hadflamed up, lost no more time in satisfying our curiosity.
It would ill become me, however, to set down the extravagant and oftenblasphemous harangue in which, styling M. de Guise the martyr of God, hetold the story now so familiar--the story of that dark wintry morningat Blois, when the king's messenger, knocking early at the duke's door,bade him hurry, for the king wanted him. The story is trite enough now.When I heard it first in the inn on the Clain, it was all new and allmarvellous.
The monk, too, telling the story as if he had seen the events with hisown eyes, omitted nothing which might impress his hearers. He told ushow the duke received warning after warning, and answered in the veryantechamber, 'He dare not!' How his blood, mysteriously advised ofcoming dissolution, grew chill, and his eye, wounded at Chateau Thierry,began to run, so that he had to send for the handkerchief he hadforgotten to bring. He told us, even, how the duke drew his assassins upand down the chamber, how he cried for mercy, and how he died at lastat the foot of the king's bed, and how the king, who had never dared toface him living, came and spurned him dead!
There were pale faces round the fire when he ceased, and bent browsand lips hard pressed together. Then he stood and cursed the King ofFrance--cursing him openly by the name of Henry of Valois, a thing Ihad never looked to hear in France--though no one said 'Amen,' and allglanced over their shoulde
rs, and our host pattered from the room as ifhe had seen a ghost, it seemed to be no man's duty to gainsay him.
For myself, I was full of thoughts which it would have been unsafe toutter in that company or so near the Loire. I looked back sixteen years.Who but Henry of Guise had spurned the corpse of Coligny? And who butHenry of Valois had backed him in the act? Who but Henry of Guise haddrenched Paris with blood, and who but Henry of Valois had ridden byhis side? One 23rd of the month--a day never to be erased from France'sannals--had purchased for him a term of greatness. A second 23rd sawhim, pay the price--saw his ashes cast secretly and by night no manknows where!
Moved by such thoughts, and observing that the priest was going theround of the company collecting money for masses for the duke's soul,to which object I could neither give with a good conscience nor refusewithout exciting suspicion, I slipped out; and finding a man of decentappearance talking with the landlord in a small room beside the kitchen,I called for a flask of the best wine, and by means of that introductionobtained my supper in their company.
The stranger was a Norman horsedealer, returning home, after disposingof his string. He seemed to be in a large way of business, and being ofa bluff, independent spirit, as many of those Norman townsmen are, wasinclined at first to treat me with more familiarity than respect; thefact of my nag, for which he would have chaffered, excelling my coatin quality, leading him to set me down as a steward or intendant. Thepursuit of his trade, however, had brought him into connection with allclasses of men and he quickly perceived his mistake; and as he knew theprovinces between the Seine and Loire to perfection, and made it part ofhis business to foresee the chances of peace and war, I obtained a greatamount of information from him, and indeed conceived no little likingfor him. He believed that the assassination of M. de Guise wouldalienate so much of France from the king that his majesty would havelittle left save the towns on the Loire, and some other places lyingwithin easy reach of his court at Blois.
'But,' I said,'things seem quiet now. Here, for instance.'
'It is the calm before the storm,' he answered. 'There is a monk inthere. Have you heard him?'
I nodded.
'He is only one among a hundred--a thousand,' the horsedealer continued,looking at me and nodding with meaning. He was a brown-haired man withshrewd grey eyes, such as many Normans have. 'They will get their waytoo, you will see,' he went on. 'Well, horses will go up, so I have nocause to grumble; but, if I were on my way to Blois with women or gearof that kind, I should not choose this time for picking posies on theroad. I should see the inside of the gates as soon as possible.'
I thought there was much in what he said; and when he went on tomaintain that the king would find himself between the hammer and theanvil--between the League holding all the north and the Huguenotsholding all the south--and must needs in time come to terms with thelatter seeing that the former would rest content with nothing short ofhis deposition, I began to agree with him that we should shortly seegreat changes and very stirring times.
'Still if they depose the king,' I said, 'the King of Navarre mustsucceed him. He is the heir of France.'
'Bah!' my companion replied somewhat contemptuously. 'The League willsee to that. He goes with the other.'
'Then the kings are in one cry, and you are right,' I said withconviction. 'They must unite.'
'So they will. It is only a question of time,' he said.
In the morning, having only one man with him, and, as I guessed, aconsiderable sum of money, he volunteered to join our party as far asBlois. I assented gladly, and he did so, this addition to our numbersridding me at once of the greater part of my fears. I did not expect anyopposition on the part of mademoiselle, who would gain in consequence aswell as in safety. Nor did she offer any. She was content, I think,to welcome any addition to our party which would save her from thenecessity of riding in the company of my old cloak.
A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac Page 5
