The Lady of the Mount

by Frederic Stewart Isham

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE MOUNTEBANK AND THE HUNCHBACK

  Up the Mount with shambling step, head down-bent and the same stupidexpression on his face, the mountebank went docilely, though notsilently. To one of the soldiers at his side he spoke often, voicingthat dull apprehension he had manifested when first ordered intocustody.

  "Do you think they'll put me in a dungeon?"

  "Dungeon, indeed!" the man answered not ill-naturedly. "For such asyou! No, no! They'll keep the oubliettes, calottes, and all the darkholes for people of consequence--traitors, or your fine gentryconsigned by _lettres de cachet_."

  "Then what do you think they _will_ do with me?"

  "Wait, and find out!" returned the soldier roughly, and the mountebankspoke no more for some time; held his head lower, until, regarding him,his guardian must needs laugh. "Here's a craven-hearted fellow! Well,if you really want to know, they'll probably lock you up for the nightwith the rest of rag-tag," indicating the other prisoners, a shortdistance ahead, "in the cellar, or almonry, or _auberge des voleurs_;and in the morning, if you're lucky and the Governor has time to attendto such as you, it may be you'll escape with a few stripes and awarning."

  "The _auberge des voleurs_!--the thieves' inn!" said the man. "What isthat?"

  "Bah! You want to know too much! If now your legs only moved as fastas your tongue--" And the speaker completed the sentence with asignificant jog on the other's shoulder. Whereupon the mountebankquickened his footsteps, once more ceased his questioning. It was thesoldier who had not yet spoken, but who had been pondering a good dealon the way up, who next broke the silence.

  "How did it end, Monsieur Mountebank?--the scene with the devil, Imean."

  The man who had begun to breathe hard, as one not accustomed toclimbing, or wearied by a long pilgrimage to the Mount, at the questionventured to stop and rest, with a hand on the granite balustrade of thelittle platform they had just reached. "In the death of the peasant,and a comic chorus of frogs," he answered.

  "A comic chorus!" said the soldier. "That must be very amusing."

  "It is," the mountebank said, at the same time studying, from where hestood, different parts of the Mount with cautious, sidelong looks; "butmy poor frogs!--all torn! trampled!"

  "Well, well!" said the other not unkindly. "You can mend them when youget out."

  "'_When_!' If I only knew when that would be! What if I should haveto stay here like some of the others?--_pour etre oublie_!--to beforgotten?"

  "If you don't get on faster," said the soldier who had first spoken,"you won't be buried alive for some time to come, at least!"

  "Pardon!" muttered the mountebank. "The hill--it is very steep."

  "You look strong enough to climb a dozen hills, and if you're holdingback for a chance to escape--"

  "No, no!" protested the man. "I had no thought--do I not know that ifI tried, your sword--"

  "Quite right. I'd--"

  "There, there!" said the other soldier, a big, good-natured appearingfellow. "He's harmless enough, and," as once more they moved on, "thattune of yours, Monsieur Mountebank," abruptly; "it runs in my head.Let me see--how does it go? The second verse, I mean--"

  "Beat! beat! Mid marsh-muck and mire, For if any note Escapes a frog's throat, Beware my lord's ire!"

  "Yes; that's the one. Not bad!" humming--

  "For if any note Escapes a frog's throat Beware my lord's ire!"

  "Are the verses your own?"

  "Oh, no! I'm only a poor player," said the mountebank humbly. "But anhonest one," he added after a pause, "and this thieves' inn, Monsieur?"returning to the subject of his possible fate, "this _auberge desvoleurs_--that sounds like a bad place for an honest lodging."

  "It was once under the old monks, who were very merry fellows; butsince the Governor had it restored, it has become a sober and quietplace. It is true there are iron bars instead of blinds, and you can'tcome and go, as they used to, but--"

  "Is that it--up there?" And the mountebank pointed toward a ledge ofrock, with strong flanking buttresses, out jutting beneath amysterious-looking wall and poised over a sparsely-wooded bit of thelower Mount. "The gray stone building you can just see above theramparts, and that opening in the cliff to the right, with somethingrunning down--that looks like planking--"

  "Oh, that is for the wheel--"

  "The wheel?"

  "The great wheel of the Mount! It was built in the time of the monks,and was used for--"

  "Hold your tongue!" said the other soldier, and the trio entered thegreat gate, which had opened at their approach, and now closed quicklybehind them.

  For the first time in that isolated domain of the dreaded Governor, themountebank appeared momentarily to forget his fears and gazed withinterest around him. On every side new and varying details unfolded tothe eye; structures that from below were etched against the sky infilmy lines, here resolved themselves into vast, solid, but harmoniousmasses.

  Those ribbons of color that had seemed to fall from the wooing sky, toadorn these heights, proved, indeed, fallacious; more somber effects,the black touches of age, confronted the eye everywhere, save on onefavored front--that of a newer period, an architectural addition whoseintricate carvings and beautiful roses of stone invited and caught thewarmer rays; whose little balcony held real buds and flowers, brightspots of pink dangling from, or nestling at, the window's edge.

  "Yonder looks like some grand lady's bower," as he followed his captorspast this more attractive edifice, the mountebank ventured to observe."Now, perhaps, lives there--"

  "Hark you, my friend," one of the soldiers bruskly interrupted; "apiece of advice! His Excellency likes not babblers, neither does hecountenance gossip; and if you'd fare well, keep your tongue toyourself!"

  "I'll--I'll try to remember," said the mountebank docilely, but as hespoke, looked back toward the balcony; at the gleaming reflection fullon its windows; then a turn in the way cut off the pleasing prospect,and only the grim foundations of the lofty, heavier structure on onehand and the massive masonry of the ramparts on the other greeted theeye.

  For some distance they continued along the narrow way, the mountebankbending lower under his load and observing the injunction put upon him,until the path, broadening, led them abruptly on to a platform where astone house of ancient construction barred their further progress. Buttwo stories in height, this building, an alien edifice amid loftierpiles, stood sturdily perched on a precipitous cliff. The roughstonework of its front, darkened by time, made it seem almost a part ofthe granite itself, although the roof, partly demolished and restored,imparted to it an anomalous distinctness, the bright new tile prominentas patches on some dilapidated garment. In its doorway, beneath amonkish inscription, well-nigh obliterated, stood a dwarf, orhunchback, who, jingling a bunch of great keys, ill-humoredly regardedthe approaching trio.

  "What now?" The little man's welcome, as mountebank and soldiers camewithin earshot, was not reassuring. "Isn't it enough to make prisonersof all the scamps in Christendom without taking vagabond players intocustody?"

  "Orders, good Jacques!" said one of the soldiers in a conciliatorytone. "The commandant's!"

  "The commandant!" grumbled the grotesque fellow. "It is all verywell," mimicking: "'Turn them over to Jacques. He'll find room.' Ifthis keeps on, we'll soon have to make cages of confessionals, or turnthe wine-butts in the old cellar into oubliettes."

  "If any of the ancient flavor lingers in the casks, your guests wouldhave little reason to complain!" returned the other soldier. "But thisfellow, he'll make no trouble--"

  "Oh, I suppose we'll have to take care of him!" muttered the dwarf."In the thieves' inn there's always room for one more!" Obeying thegesture, at once menacing and imperious, that accompanied these words,the mountebank, who had been eying his prospective host not withoutvisible signs of misgiving, reluctantly entered.

  But as he did so, he looked back; toward the soldier who had displayed
half-friendly interest in the play.

  "If you care to know more about the piece--" he began, when themaledictions and abuse of the misshapen keeper put a stop to furtherconversation and sent the mountebank post-haste into the darkness ofthe cavern-like hall intersecting the ground floor.

  On either side closed doors, vaguely discerned, hinted at the secretsof the chambers they guarded; the atmosphere, dark and close,proclaimed the sunlight long a stranger there. At the end of the hallthe dwarf, who had walked with the assurance of one well acquaintedwith that musty interior and all it contained, paused; shot sharply abolt and threw open a door. The action was the signal for a chorus ofhoarse voices from within, and the little man stayed not on the orderof his going, but, thrusting the mountebank across the threshold,leaped nimbly back, slammed hard the door, and locked it.

  Cries of disappointment and rage followed, and, facing the company thatcrowded the dingy little room almost to suffocation, the latest comerfound himself confronted by unkempt people who shook their fiststhreateningly and execrated in no uncertain manner. A few, formerlyspectators of his little play, inclined again to vent their humor onhim, but he regarded them as if unaware of their feeling; pushed nonetoo gently to a tiny window, and, depositing his burden on the stonefloor, seated himself on a stool with his back to the wall.

  As a squally gust soon blows itself out, so their temper, mercurial,did not long endure; from a ragged coat one produced dice, anothercards, and, although there were few sous to exchange hands, the hazardof tossing and shuffling exercised its usual charm and held them. Theminutes wore away; motionless in his corner, the mountebank nowwatched; then with his head on his elbow, seemed sunk in thought. Oncehe rose; stood on his stool and looked out between the heavy bars ofthe narrow window.

  "Not much chance to get out that way," observed a fellow prisoner."What did you see?"

  "Only a chasm and the sands."

  "The sands!" said the man. "Cursed the day I set foot on them!"

  To this malediction the other did not answer; stepped down and, againseated in his corner, waited, while the light that had grudginglyentered the narrow aperture grew fainter. With the growing darknessthe atmosphere seemed to become closer, more foul; but although hebreathed with difficulty, the mountebank suffered no sign of impatienceor concern to escape him; only more alertly looked, and listened--to anight bird cleaving the air without; to muttered sounds, thieves'patois, or snatches of ribald mirth within; and, ere long, to newcomplainings.

  "Our supper! What of our supper?"

  "The foul fiend take the _auberge des voleurs_ and its landlord?"

  "_Vrai dieu_! Here he comes!" as footsteps were heard without.

  And the door, opening, revealed, indeed, in the rushlight, now dimlyilluminating the hall, the hunchback; not laden, however, with thelonged-for creature comforts, but empty-handed; at his back thecommandant and a number of soldiers.

  "You fellow with the dolls!" Blinking in the glare of the torches, thedwarf peered in. "Where are you? Come along!" as the mountebank rose,"you are wanted."

  "Wanted?" repeated the player, stepping forward. "Where?"

  "At the palace," said the commandant.

  "The palace!" stopping short. "Who can want me there?"

  "Who?" The dwarf made a grimace. "Who?" he repeated mockingly.

  "Her ladyship," said the commandant, with a reproving glance at thejailer.

  "Her ladyship!"

  "Haven't you ears, my man?" The commandant frowned and made animpatient gesture. "Come, bestir yourself! The Governor's daughterhas commanded your presence."