Lord Montagu's Page: An Historical Romance

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  From Aix to Ramilly and Geneva was all safe enough. From Geneva throughFranche-Comte, as I have before explained, had no perils; but a smallpiece of country in Lorraine and Bar, where the road ran along thefrontier of France, and, as some statesmen and geographers asserted,actually crossed it and passed through French territory for at leastthree miles, was in reality the perilous part of Lord Montagu's journey.

  That nobleman, however, seemed to consider himself very secure. He hadso recently almost bearded the lion in his den with impunity, he hadwith such reckless freedom gone from one part of France itself toanother without being stopped, that he thought there would be littlerisk in approaching a remote and somewhat poorly-peopled frontier orpassing over a small space of debatable ground. He did not know, or heforgot, that the keen eyes of the fearless and unscrupulous Frenchminister had been opened to his proceedings; that Richelieu had assumeda more bold and stern course of policy than ever; that personalhatred--perhaps, as some assert, personal rivalry--rendered it necessaryfor the cardinal to know in order to frustrate the efforts of hismagnificent though very inferior adversary on the British side of thechannel; and that no price, no labor, no violence even, would beconsidered too much which would place the designs and operations ofBuckingham before the cabinet of France. He rode gayly, therefore, onhis way,--though, in order not to attract too much attention, he sentforward several of his English attendants by a different road to meethim at Metz, and kept with him only Mr. Oakingham, Edward Langdale, avalet, and the two blacksmiths, with an ordinary groom.

  This little party, on the evening of a beautiful autumnal day, rodealong with tired horses through the little wood of Mirecourt, issuedforth upon the side of the dry calcareous hill to the west, and lookedanxiously for some place of rest. No one was well acquainted with theroad; the horses were heavy-laden, for each besides his rider carried aheavy valise and two bags in front; and the whole morning had beenpassed in going up and down hill through an arid and almost desertedcountry. Some scattered houses, and then a nice clean village and asmall but neat country inn, all gathered together in a little dellshaded with trees, at length gladdened the eyes of the weary travellers;and Lord Montagu, as was his custom, applied himself to make his sojourncomfortable for the hour, leaving his followers to enjoy themselves asbest they could. He laughed and joked with the pretty Lorraineselandlady as with her own hands she laid the table for his dinner; hetook out a book from his valise, and, with his feet upon one chair andhis body on another, rejoiced in the ease of a new position, and, whenhis dinner at last came, ate with moderation but good appetite, andcalled a glow of satisfaction into the cheek of his hostess bypronouncing it the best meal he had ever tasted.

  In the mean time, Mr. Oakingham had taken some refreshments and gone tobed; the valet had remained in the room with his lord, to serve him attable; the blacksmiths and the groom had gone to the stable; and EdwardLangdale seemed the only unquiet spirit of the party. He ate but little;he drank less; he sat down; he rose up; he went out several times,either to the front of the house or the back; he visited the stablethree times; he made many inquiries of the people of the house regardingthe neighborhood and its inhabitants; and at length, instead ofretiring to bed, he leaned his arms upon a table and his head upon hisarms, and apparently went to sleep. People came and went, but he did notmove; one of the girls of the inn spoke to him, but he did not answer;and it was near eleven o'clock before he changed his position. At thathour he rose and walked quietly to the back door of the inn, whichlooked into the stable-yard. The moon was shining near the full, and twomen were standing near the stables talking together earnestly. As soonas he appeared at the door, they went round to the back of the lowwooden building; but Edward had caught sight of them, and he walkedstraight to the stable and looked in. Most of the tired horses wereresting quietly in the stables; but one, though disencumbered of packsand burdens, was saddled and bridled and tied up to a pillar.

  Edward examined the animal well, to make sure of whom it belonged to,then quietly re-entered the inn and went straight to the room of LordMontagu. He knocked at the door, and Montagu's voice told him to comein.

  "Ah, Ned!" said his lord, "I have not seen you to-night."

  "No, my lord," replied the youth: "I have been watching some thingswhich I dislike."

  "A very unsatisfactory employment," said Lord Montagu. "But what is it,good youth? You look gloomy, and your face is full of meaning. Are thePhilistines upon us?"

  "I do not know, my lord," replied Edward; "but I fear they soon will be.I do not like those two blacksmiths, my lord. They are bent upon somemischief, depend upon it."

  "Oh, the old story!" said Montagu. "What is it now, Ned? Do they squintthe other way, perchance?"

  Edward was mortified; but he answered, respectfully, "No, my noble lord,but the same way as ever. I feel sure they are spies upon you and intendto betray you the very first opportunity."

  "Indeed!" said Montagu, now somewhat roused. "But the proofs, MasterNed,--the proofs."

  "Absolute proofs I cannot give," said Edward; "but their conduct is sosuspicious that I cannot believe them honest. I beg your lordship'sexcuse while I detail what I have observed during the last ten days.You can then judge for yourself. These men affect to speak a _patois_almost incomprehensible; but I have detected them speaking as goodFrench as you or I more than once. Together they talk a language I donot at all understand; but good Jacques Beaupre says it is Basque. I amcertain it is not Savoyard. At Geneva, one of them wrote a letter andsent it off by a courier who was going to France. During the last twodays' journey they have been making as diligent inquiries at every inn,as to the neighborhood, as if they had to direct the march."

  "Pooh! that is all nothing," answered Montagu: "don't you think ablacksmith may have a sweetheart to write to, as well as yourself, Ned?And the poor devils, who have to find their way back, may well inquireabout the roads."

  "Well, my lord, I have but little more to say," replied Edward. "All daythey have been looking curiously at every chateau we passed, even atfive miles' distance; they have lagged behind all along the road, andstopped more than once to talk with the peasantry they met; and twohours before we arrived here I saw one of them give a piece of money toa lad, who set out incontinently over the fields."

  "Ha! that was strange," said Montagu, thoughtfully. "What more?"

  "Some three or four hours ago," continued the young man, "the taller ofthe two despatched the hostler somewhere. I could not learn where; but Iheard him say, distinctly, 'Remember, tell him at eleven o'clock; notbefore eleven!' I have waited and watched ever since, and the scoundrelis now in close conference with a man who has come to see him, while hishorse is standing saddled in the stable."

  "This looks serious," said Montagu, rising. "Have you remarked any thingfurther?"

  "Yes," answered Edward: "I have remarked that, though they pretend neverto have been in this part of the country before, they know every inch ofthe road and have some acquaintance in every town."

  "Let us go to the stable," said Lord Montagu: "I will know more of thisbefore I sleep."

  Quietly opening the door, he passed through a sort of dining-room andthe kitchen into the court-yard; but at the moment he opened the outerdoor the sound of horses' feet was heard, and one of the stalls in thestable was found vacant. "Too late!" said Lord Montagu, calmly: "let usgo back, Ned, and consult what is to be done."

  Perhaps, where one person alone has power to decide, all consultation isuseless,--more than useless,--only a waste of time. Who ever takesanother man's advice unless he wishes to shuffle off a responsibility towhich he feels himself unequal? Give me an obstinate general, if he havebut a brain as big as a walnut. As far as success goes, it is better tobe bravely wrong than timidly right.

  Now, though Lord Montagu had a very great opinion of Edward Langdale'sgood sense, he had a much better opinion of his own; but councils of warhad not then fallen into the state of disrepute to which they have su
nkin our days; and therefore he returned to his room, and, having seen thedoor closely shut, asked, in a grave tone, "Now, Ned, what is to bedone?"

  "Why, my lord, you are the best judge; but if I were you I would go backto the road we left ten miles behind and go straight to Nancy. You arehere on the very frontier of France, surrounded by French towns andcastles: there are disputes about the exact bounds, and the cardinal, Ishould suppose, would not be very particular if he thought he could getpossession of your lordship and your papers by a _coup-de-main_."

  "You are a geographer, Ned," said Montagu. "Have you calculated how muchtime that detour would cost?"

  "A day and a half," answered Edward, "if we ride hard."

  "The roads are bad,--very hilly," said Montagu: "the beasts are tirednow. It would cost two days and a half, at a moderate calculation; and Ihave not two days and a half to spare. I have promised to meet the Dukeof Lorraine on Wednesday at Metz. We have ample time to do it if I ridestraight on, but not more; and, if I do not come, he will not and cannotwait."

  "Send him a messenger, my lord," said Edward: "I will undertake to carryhim any message from your lordship before Tuesday night, to appoint ameeting at Pont a Mousson, or anywhere you like. Better kill a horse byhard riding than have you taken prisoner."

  Montagu thought in silence for a few moments, and then said, in ameditative tone, "Do you know, Ned, I do not think there is so muchdanger as you imagine? The man's conduct is suspicious, I admit; but itis no more than suspicious. How do we know he has any thing to do withRichelieu? But even suppose he has: he can have no means ofcommunicating with his sweet Eminence between this night and to-morrowmorning. No governor of a castle or commander of troops would venture toviolate a neutral territory without an express order; and it wasimpossible for the cardinal to know that I should pass by this road, soas to give his orders beforehand. I think we are quite safe, my goodyouth."

  Montagu spoke in that cool sort of indifferent tone which almostimplied--at least, so Edward construed it--that his page had beenmagnifying dangers. The young man bit his lip and for a moment remainedsilent; but then a sense of duty made him answer, "I cannot but thinkthat by following the direct road your lordship will place yourself inextreme peril."

  "Why, you are not afraid, Edward?" said Lord Montagu, laughing. "Youlittle fire-devouring Turk, I never saw you afraid of any thing before."

  The young man's cheek reddened. "I am not afraid of any thing, my lord,"he answered, "but of seeing your lordship a prisoner in the hands ofyour enemies. If they once get you into the Bastille, what becomes ofall the results of your lordship's negotiations?"

  "True," answered Montagu, "the stakes we play for are great ones; but inplaying for great stakes one must risk boldly wherever there is a chanceof success. I think we can pass, Edward; and I will try it. But I willtake precaution to make our passage sure. An hour and a half will carryus over all immediate danger; for the road, I find, bends back deeperinto Bar, and it is only on the very frontier that there is any risk. NoFrench force will venture more than a mile at the most into the Duke ofLorraine's territory."

  "But what precaution can you take, my lord?" asked Edward, in somesurprise. "Doubtless his Highness would grant you an escort; but he hasno troops near. We are amidst peasants."

  "No, no! I seek no escort," said Montagu: "we will pass alone if we passat all. But you heard me on our arrival give the order to set out atseven. We will change the hour, Ned, and begin our march at five. Saynot a word to any one to-night. I will trust only to you. At four let usall be called. Call Oakingham a quarter of an hour earlier, and Abbottoo, for they are slow. Let the groom and the laquais get the horsesready by five; but, above all, say not a word to the Savoyard who isleft, or his companion, if he returns, and keep a watch upon them."

  "A sure watch," said Edward, with a grim smile. "All shall be ready, mylord; but yet----"

  "Nay, nay," said Montagu, waving his hand; "no more objections, Ned. Nowsend the lackey to me: I will go to bed as if I had no alteration oflast night's arrangements in my mind. You had better go to your room,too, and obtain a little sleep. I know you can wake when you like."

  "I will go to my room," said Edward; "but I do not close my eyesto-night, my lord. I am not fond of leaving any thing to chance."

  "You must have another word," said Montagu, laughing. "Pooh! pooh! Weshall pass, my boy. Now, good-night."

  Edward left him, sent the lackey to his room, went to the kitchen, wheretwo of the stable-men were sleeping by the fire, roused one of them togive him a lamp, and retired to the chamber where young Abbot wassnoring powerfully. But Edward was ill at ease. He thought that theprecautions Lord Montagu had spoken of and ordered were not sufficient:he thought--as all men think, and young men especially--that his ownplan was the best. However, he drew the charges of his pistols, loadedand primed them afresh; and then, sitting down at the window, where hehad a view of the court-yard on one side and on the other a glance intothe passage through the door which he left ajar, he waited, withoutmoving a limb, for the coming of morning.