The Helmet of Navarre

by Bertha Runkle

  V

  _Rapiers and a vow._

  I came to my senses slowly, to hear loud, angry voices. As I opened myeyes and stirred, the room reeled from me and all was blank again.Awhile after, I grew aware of a clashing of steel. I lay wonderingthickly what it was and why it had to be going on while my head achedso, till at length it dawned on my dull brain that swords were crossing.I opened my eyes again, then.

  They were fighting each other, Yeux-gris and Gervais. The latter wasalmost trampling on me, Yeux-gris had pressed him so close to the wall.Then he forced his way out, and they drove each other round in a circletill the room seemed to spin once more.

  I crawled out of the way and watched them, bewildered, absorbed. I hadmore reason to thrill over the contest than the mere excellence ofit,--which was great,--since I was the cause of the duel, and my verylife, belike, hung on its issue.

  They were both admirable swordsmen, yet it was clear from the firstwhere the palm lay. Anything nimbler, lighter, easier than thesword-play of Yeux-gris I never hope to see in this imperfect world.The heavier adversary was hot, angry, breathing hard. A smile hoveredover Yeux-gris's lips; already a red disk on Gervais's shirt showedwhere his cousin's sword had been and would soon go again, and deeper. Ihad forgotten my bruise in my interest and delight, when, of a sudden,one whom we all had ignored took a hand in the game. Gervais's lackeystarted forward and knocked up Yeux-gris's arm. His sword flew wide, andGervais slashed his arm from wrist to elbow.

  With a smothered cry, Yeux-gris caught at his wound. Gervais, ablazewith rage, sprang past him on his creature. The man gaped withamazement; then, for there was no time for parley, leaped for the door.It was locked. He turned, and with a look of deathly terror fell on hisknees, crouched up against the door-post. Gervais lunged. His bladepassed clean through the man's shoulders and pinned him to the door. Hishead fell heavily forward.

  "Have you killed him?" cried Yeux-gris.

  "By my faith! I meant to," came the answer. Gervais was bending over theman. With an abrupt laugh he called out: "Killed him, pardieu! He hascome off cheap."

  He raised the fellow's limp head, and we saw that the sword had passedjust over his shoulder, piercing the linen, not the flesh. He hadswooned from sheer terror, being in truth not so much as scratched.

  Gervais turned to his cousin.

  "I never meant that foul trick. It was no thought of mine. I would haveturned the blade if I could. I will kill Pontou now, if you say theword."

  "Nay," answered the other, faintly; "help me."

  The blood was pouring from his arm; he was half swooning. Gervais and Iran to him and, between us, bathed the cut, bandaged it with strips tornfrom a shirt, and made a sling of a scarf. The wound was long, but notdeep, and when we had poured some wine down his throat he was himselfagain.

  "You will not bear me malice for that poltroon's work, Etienne?" Gervaisasked, more humbly than I ever thought to hear him speak. "That was afoul cut, but it was no fault of mine. I am no blackguard; I fight fair.I will kill the knave, if you like."

  "You are ungrateful, Gervais; he saved you when you needed saving,"Yeux-gris laughed. "Faith! let him live. I forgive him. You will pay mefor my hurt by yielding me Felix."

  Gervais looked at me. While we had worked side by side over Yeux-gris heseemed to have forgotten that he was my enemy. But now all the oldsuspicion and dislike came into his face again. However, he answered:

  "Aye, you would have been the victor had it not been for Pontou. Youshall do what you like with your boy. I promise you that."

  "Now that is well said, Gervais," returned Yeux-gris, rising, andpicking up his sword, which he sheathed. "That is very well said. For ifyou did not feel like promising it, why, I should have to begin overagain with my left hand."

  "Oh, I give you the boy," Gervais repeated rather sullenly, turning awayto pour himself some wine.

  I could not but wonder at Yeux-gris, at his gaiety and hissteadfastness. He had hardly looked grave through the whole affair; hehad fought with a smile on his lips and had taken a cruel wound with alaugh. Withal, he had been the constant champion of my innocence, evento drawing his sword on his cousin for me. Now, with his bloody arm inits sling, he was as debonair and careless as ever. I had been stupidenough to imagine the big Gervais the leader of the two, and I foundmyself mistaken. I dropped on my knee and kissed my saviour's hand inall gratitude.

  "Aha," said Yeux-gris, "what think you now of being my valet?"

  Verily, I was hard pushed.

  "Monsieur," I said, "I owe you much more than I can ever pay. If youwere any man's enemy but my duke's, I would serve you on my knees. But Iwas born on the duke's land and I cannot be disloyal. You may kill meyourself, if you like."

  "No," he answered gravely, "that is not my metier."

  Gervais laughed.

  "Make me that offer, and I accept."

  Yeux-gris turned to him with that little hauteur he assumedoccasionally.

  "You are helpless, my cousin. You have passed your word."

  "Aye. I leave him to you."

  His sullen eyes told me it was no new-born tenderness for me thatprompted his surrender. Nor had I, truth to tell, any great faith in thesacredness of his word. Yet I believed he would let me be. For it wasborne in upon me that, despite his passion and temper, he had no wish toquarrel with Yeux-gris. Whether at bottom he loved him or in some waydreaded him, I could not tell; but of this my fear-sharpened wits weresure: he had no desire to press an open breach. He was honestly ashamedof his henchman's low deed; yet even before that his judgment haddisliked the quarrel. Else why had he struck me with the hilt of thesword?

  "I leave him to you," he repeated. "Do as you choose. If you deem hislife a precious thing, cherish it. When did you learn a taste forinsolence, Etienne? Time was when you were touchy on that score."

  "Time never was when I did not love courage."

  "Oh, it is courage!" With a sneer he turned away.

  "Gervais," said Yeux-gris, "have the kindness to unlock the door."

  Gervais wheeled around, his face an angry question.

  Yeux-gris answered it with cold politeness:

  "That Felix Broux may pass out."

  "By Heaven, he shall not!"

  "You gave your word you would leave him to me. Did you lie?"

  "I do leave him to you!" Gervais thundered. "I would slit his impudentthroat; but since you love him, you may have him to eat out of yourplate and sleep in your bosom. I will put up with it. But go out ofthat door till the thing is done, sang dieu! he shall not!"

  "If he goes straight to the duke, what then? He will say he found usliving in my house. What harm? We are no felons. Let him say it."

  "And put Lucas on his guard?" returned Gervais. He was angry, yet hespoke with evident attempt at restraint. "Put Lucas on the trail? He iswary as a cat. Let him get wind of us here, and he will never let uscatch him."

  "Well," said Yeux-gris, reluctantly, "it is true. And though I will nothave the boy harmed, he shall stay here. I will not put a spoke in thewheel. We will take no risks till Lucas is shent. The boy shall be heldprisoner. And afterward--"

  "I will come myself and let him out," said Gervais, and laughed.

  I glanced at my protector, not liking to think of that moment, wheneverit might be, "afterward." He went up to Gervais.

  "My cousin, are we friends or foes? For, faith! you treat me strangelylike a foe."

  "We are friends."

  "I am your friend, since it is in your cause that I am here. I havestood at your shoulder like a brother--you cannot deny it."

  "No," Gervais answered; "you stood my friend,--my one friend in thathouse,--as I was yours. I stood at your shoulder in the Montlucaffair--you cannot deny that. I have been your ally, your servant, yourmessenger to mademoiselle, your envoy to Mayenne. I have done all in mypower to win you your lady."

  A shadow fell over Yeux-gris's open face.

  "That task needs a greater power than yours, my Gervais."
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  He regarded Gervais with a rueful smile, his thoughts of a sudden as faraway from me as if I had never set foot in the Rue Coupejarrets. Heshook his head, sighing, and said, with a hand on Gervais's shoulder:"It's beyond you, cousin."

  Gervais brought him back to the point.

  "Well, I've done what I could for you. But you don't help me when youlet loose a spy to warn Lucas."

  "He shall not go. You know well, cousin, you will be no gladder than Iwhen that knave is dead. But I will not have Felix Broux suffer becausehe dared speak for the Duke of St. Quentin."

  "As you choose, then. I will not touch a hair of his head if you keephim from Lucas."

  Once more he turned away across the room. My bewilderment was so greatthat the words came out of themselves:

  "Messieurs, is it Lucas you mean to kill?"

  Yeux-gris looked at me, not instantly replying. I cried again to him:

  "Monsieur, is it Lucas or the duke?"

  Then Yeux-gris, despite a gesture from Gervais, who would have told menothing I might ask, exclaimed:

  "Why, Lucas!"

  He said it in such honest surprise and with such a steady glance thatthe heavy fear that had hung on me dropped from me like a dead-weight,and suddenly I turned quite dizzy and fell into the nearest chair.

  A dash of water in the face made me look up, to see Yeux-gris standingwet-handed by me.

  "Mon dieu!" he cried, "you were as white as the wall. Do you love somuch this Lucas who struck you?"

  "No," I said, rising; "I thought you meant to kill the duke."

  "Did you take us for Leaguers?"

  I nodded.

  He spoke as if actually he felt it important to set himself right in myeyes.

  "Well, we are none. We are no politicians, but private gentlemen with agrudge to pay. I care not what the parties do. Whether we have thePrincess Isabelle or Henry the Huguenot, 'tis all one to me; I am notputting either on the throne. So if you have got it into your head thatwe are plotting for the League, why, get it out again."

  "But you are enemies to the Duke of St. Quentin?"

  He answered me slowly:

  "We do not love him. But we do not plot his death. He goes his wayunharmed by us. We are gentlemen, not bravos."

  "And Lucas?"

  "Lucas is my cousin's enemy, and, being a great man's man, skulks behindthe bars of the Hotel st. Quentin and will not face my cousin's sword.So to reach him takes a little plotting. Do you believe me?"

  I looked into his gray eyes, that had flashed so hotly in my defence,and I could not but believe him.

  "Yes, monsieur," I said.

  He regarded me curiously.

  "The duke's life seems much to you."

  "Why, monsieur, I am a Broux."

  "And could not be disloyal to save your life?"

  "My life! Monsieur, the Broux would not seek to save their souls if M.le Duc preferred them damned."

  I expected he would rebuke me for the outburst, but he did not; hemerely said:

  "And Lucas?"

  "Oh, Lucas!" I said. "I know nothing of him. He is new with the dukesince my time. I do not owe him anything, save a grudge for that blowthis morning. Mon dieu, monsieur, I am thankful to you for befriendingme. Dying for Monsieur is all in a day's work; we expect to do that.But, my faith, if I had died just now, it would have been for Lucas."

  At this moment a long groan came from the end of the room. We turned;the lackey was waking from his swoon, under the ministration of Gervais.He opened his eyes; their glance was dull till they fell upon hismaster. And then at once they looked venomous.

  Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness.

  "Get up, hound. It is time to meet Martin."

  The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching thedoor-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalkycountenance. Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was thelook you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its chance tobite. Yeux-gris cried out:

  "You dare not send that man, Gervais."

  "Why not?"

  "Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you. Look athis face."

  "He shall swear on the cross!"

  "Aye. But you cannot trust the oath of such as he."

  "What would you? We must send."

  "As you will. But you are mad if you send him."

  Gervais pondered a moment, his slower wits taking in the situation. Thenhe seized the man by the collar, fairly flung him across the room intothe closet, and bolted the door upon him.

  "I will settle with him later. But you are right. We cannot send him."

  Yeux-gris burst into laughter.

  "My faith! we could not have more trouble if we were heads of the Leaguethan this little duel of yours is giving us. Why, what if we are seen? Iwill go."

  Gervais started.

  "No; that will not do."

  "Eh, bien, then, what will you propose?"

  But it was some one else who proposed. I said to Yeux-gris:

  "Monsieur, if all your purpose is against Lucas and no other, I am yourman. I will go."

  "What, my stubborn-neck, you?"

  "Why, monsieur, I owe you a great debt. While I thought you meant ill toM. le Duc, I could not serve you. But this Lucas is another pair ofsleeves. I owe him no allegiance. Moreover, he nearly killed me thismorning. Therefore I am quite at your disposal."

  "Now, I wonder if you are lying," said Gervais.

  "I do not think he is lying," Yeux-gris said. "I trow, Gervais, we havegot our messenger."

  "You tell me to beware of Pontou because he hates me, and then wouldhave me trust this fellow?" Gervais demanded with some acumen.

  I said: "Monsieur, you do not seem to understand how I come to make thisoffer."

  "To get out of the house with a whole skin."

  I had a joy in daring him, being sure of Yeux-gris.

  "Monsieur," I said, "I should be glad to leave this house with my skinwhole or broken, so long as I left on my own feet. But you havementioned the very reason why I shall not betray you. I do not love youand I do not love Lucas. Therefore, if you and M. Lucas are to fight, Iask nothing better than to help the quarrel on."

  He stared at me with an air more of bewilderment than aught else, butYeux-gris's ready laughter rang out.

  "Bravo, Felix! I am proud of you. That is an idea worthy of Caesar! Youwould set your enemies to exterminate each other. And I asked you to bemy valet!"

  "Which do you wish to see slain?" demanded the black Gervais.

  I answered quite truthfully:

  "Monsieur, I shall be pleased either way."

  I know not how he relished the answer, for Yeux-gris cried out at once:

  "Bravo, Felix, you are a paragon! I have not wit enough to know whetheryou are as simple as sunshine or as deep as a well, but I love you."

  "Monsieur," I answered, as I think, very neatly, "if I am a well, truthlies at the bottom."

  "Well, Gervais?" demanded Yeux-gris.

  Gervais bent his lowering brows on his cousin.

  "Do you say, trust him?"

  "Aye, I would trust him. For never yet did villain turn honest, norhonest man false, in one short hour. When he was asked to serve againstthe duke he showed his stuff. He was no traitor; he was no coward; hewas no liar. I think he is not those now."

  Gervais was still doubtful.

  "It is a risk. If he betrays--"

  "What is life without risks?" cried Yeux-gris. "I thought you too good agambler, Gervais, to falter before a risk."

  "Well," Gervais consented, "I leave it to you. Do as you like."

  Yeux-gris said at once to me:

  "This Lucas, as I told you, is too cowardly to meet my cousin in openfight. Since he got the challenge he has never stuck his nose out ofdoors without two or three of the duke's guard about him. Therefore wehave the right to get at him as we can. We have paid a man in the houseto tell of his movements. He is to fare out secretly at night
on amission for M. le Duc, with one comrade only. M. Gervais and I willinterrupt that little journey."

  "Very good, monsieur. And I?"

  "You will meet our spy and learn the hour of the expedition. Last night,when he told us of the plan, it had not been decided."

  "Then he will be the other man I saw in the window? I shall know him."

  "You have sharp eyes and a sharp brain, youngster. But he will not knowyou. Therefore you can say you come from the shuttered house in the RueCoupejarrets. You will meet him in the little alley to the north of theHotel St. Quentin. Do you know your way to the hotel? Well, then, youare to go down the passageway between the house and M. de Portreuse'sgarden--you cannot mistake it, for on two sides of the house is thestreet, on the third the garden, and on the fourth the alleyway.Half-way down the alley is an arch with a small door. In that arch ourman, Louis Martin, will meet you. Do you understand?"

  I repeated the directions.

  "You have learned your lesson. You will ask him the hour--only that."

  "And you will take oath not to betray us," commanded Gervais.

  I took out the cross that hung on my rosary. I was ready to swear.Gervais prompted:

  "I swear to go and come straight, and speak no word to any but Martin."

  With all solemnity I swore it on my cross.

  "That oath will be kept," said Yeux-gris. He held out a sudden hand forthe cross, which I gave him, wondering.

  "I swear that we mean no harm whatsoever to the Duke of St. Quentin." Hekissed the cross and flung the chain back over my neck.

  At last I saw the door unlocked. Yeux-gris even returned to me my knife.

  "Au revoir, messieurs."

  Gervais, sullen to the last, vouchsafed no answer, but Yeux-gris calledout cheerily, "Au revoir."