CHAPTER XV.
VILAIN HERODES.
All the distaste and misliking I had expressed earlier in the day forthe Court of Blois recurred with fresh force in the darkness andgloom; and though, booted and travel-stained as we were, I did notconceive it likely that we should be obtruded on the circle about theking, I felt none the less an oppressive desire to be through with ouradventure, and away from the ill-omened precincts in which I foundmyself. The darkness prevented me seeing the faces of my companions;but on M. de Rosny, who was not quite free himself, I think, from theinfluences of the time and place, twitching my sleeve to enforcevigilance, I noted that the lackeys had ceased to follow us, and thatwe three were beginning to ascend a rough staircase cut in the rock. Igathered, though the darkness limited my view behind as well as infront to a few twinkling lights, that we were mounting the scarp fromthe moat to the side wall of the castle; and I was not surprised whenthe marquis muttered to us to stop, and knocked softly on the wood ofa door.
M. de Rosny might have spared the touch he had laid on my sleeve, forby this time I was fully and painfully sensible of the criticalposition in which we stood, and was very little likely to commit anindiscretion. I trusted he had not done so already! No doubt--itflashed across me while we waited--he had taken care to safeguardhimself. But how often, I reflected, had all safeguards been setaside and all precautions eluded by those to whom he was committinghimself! Guise had thought himself secure in this very building, whichwe were about to enter. Coligny had received the most absolute ofsafe-conducts from those to whom we were apparently bound. The end ineither case had been the same--the confidence of the one proving of nomore avail than the wisdom of the other. What if the King of Francethought to make his peace with his Catholic subjects--offended by themurder of Guise--by a second murder of one as obnoxious to them as hewas precious to their arch-enemy in the South? Rosny was sagaciousindeed; but then I reflected with sudden misgiving that he was young,ambitious, and bold.
The opening of the door interrupted without putting an end to thistrain of apprehension. A faint light shone out; so feebly as toillumine little more than the stairs at our feet. The marquisentered at once, M. de Rosny followed, I brought up the rear; and thedoor was closed by a man who stood behind it. We found ourselvescrowded together at the foot of a very narrow staircase, which thedoorkeeper--a stolid pikeman in a grey uniform, with a small lanthornswinging from the crosspiece of his halberd--signed to us to ascend. Isaid a word to him, but he only stared in answer, and M. deRambouillet, looking back and seeing what I was about, called to methat it was useless, as the man was a Swiss and spoke no French.
'This did not tend to reassure me; any more than did the chillroughness of the wall which my hand touched as I groped upwards, orthe smell of bats which invaded my nostrils and suggested that thestaircase was little used and belonged to a part of the castle fittedfor dark and secret doings.
We stumbled in the blackness up the steps, passing one door and then asecond before M. de Rambouillet whispered to us to stand, and knockedgently at a third.
The secrecy, the darkness, and above all the strange arrangements madeto receive us, filled me with the wildest conjectures. But when thedoor opened and we passed one by one into a bare, unfurnished,draughty gallery, immediately, as I judged, under the tiles, thereality agreed with no one of my anticipations. The place was a meregarret, without a hearth, without a single stool. Three windows, ofwhich one was roughly glazed, while the others were filled with oiledpaper, were set in one wall; the others displaying the stones andmortar without disguise or ornament. Beside the door through which wehad entered stood a silent figure in the grey uniform I had seenbelow, his lanthorn on the floor at his feet. A second door at thefarther end of the gallery, which was full twenty paces long, wasguarded in like manner. A couple of lanthorns stood in the middle ofthe floor, and that was all.
Inside the door, M. de Rambouillet with his finger on his lip stoppedus, and we stood a little group of three a pace in front of thesentry, and with the empty room before us. I looked at M. de Rosny,but he was looking at Rambouillet. The marquis had his back towardsme, the sentry was gazing into vacancy; so that baffled in my attemptto learn anything from the looks of the other actors in the scene, Ifell back on my ears. The rain dripped outside and the moaning windrattled the casements; but mingled with these melancholy sounds--whichgained force, as such things always do, from the circumstances inwhich we were placed and our own silence--I fancied I caught thedistant hum of voices and music and laughter. And that, I know notwhy, brought M. de Guise again to my mind.
The story of his death, as I had heard it from that accursed monk inthe inn on the Claine, rose up in all its freshness, with all itsdetails. I started when M. de Rambouillet coughed. I shivered whenRosny shifted his feet. The silence grew oppressive. Only the stolidmen in grey seemed unmoved, unexpectant; so that I remember wonderingwhether it was their nightly duty to keep guard over an empty garret,the floor strewn with scraps of mortar and ends of tiles.
The interruption, when it came at last, came suddenly. The sentry atthe farther end of the gallery started and fell back a pace. Instantlythe door beside him opened and a man came in, and closing it quicklybehind him, advanced up the room with an air of dignity, which evenhis strange appearance and attire could not wholly destroy.
He was of good stature and bearing, about forty years old as I judged,his wear a dress of violet velvet with black points cut in the extremeof the fashion. He carried a sword but no ruff, and had a cup and ballof ivory--a strange toy much in vogue among the idle--suspended fromhis wrist by a ribbon. He was lean and somewhat narrow, but so far Ifound little fault with him. It was only when my eye reached his face,and saw it rouged like a woman's and surmounted by a little turban,that a feeling of scarcely understood disgust seized me, and I said tomyself, 'This is the stuff of which kings' minions are made!'
To my surprise, however, M. de Rambouillet went to meet him with theutmost respect, sweeping the dirty floor with his bonnet, and bowingto the very ground. The newcomer acknowledged his salute withnegligent kindness. Remarking pleasantly 'You have brought a friend, Ithink?' he looked towards us with a smile.
'Yes, sire, he is here,' the marquis answered, stepping aside alittle. And with the word I understood that this was no minion, butthe king himself: Henry, the Third of the name, and the last of thegreat House of Valois, which had ruled France by the grace of God fortwo centuries and a half! I stared at him, and stared at him, scarcelybelieving what I saw. For the first time in my life I was in thepresence of the king!
Meanwhile M. de Rosny, to whom he was, of course, no marvel, had goneforward and knelt on one knee. The king raised him graciously, andwith an action which, viewed apart from his woman's face and sillyturban, seemed royal and fitting. 'This is good of you, Rosny,' hesaid. 'But it is only what I expected of you.'
'Sire,' my companion answered, 'your Majesty has no more devotedservant than myself, unless it be the king my master.'
'By my faith,' Henry answered with energy--'and if I am not a goodchurchman, whatever those rascally Parisians say, I am nothing--by myfaith, I think I believe you!'
'If your Majesty would believe me in that and in some other thingsalso,' M. de Rosny answered, 'it would be very well for France.'Though he spoke courteously, he threw so much weight and independenceinto his words that I thought of the old proverb, 'A good master, abold servant.'
'Well, that is what we are here to see,' the king replied. 'But onetells me one thing,' he went on fretfully, 'and one another, and whicham I to believe?'
'I know nothing of others, sire,' Rosny answered with the same spirit.'But my master has every claim to be believed. His interest in theroyalty of France is second only to your Majesty's. He is also a kingand a kinsman, and it irks him to see rebels beard you, as hashappened of late.'
'Ay, but the chief of them?' Henry exclaimed, giving way to suddenexcitement and stamping fur
iously on the floor. 'He will trouble me nomore. Has my brother heard of _that?_ Tell me, sir, has that newsreached him?'
'He has heard it, sire.'
'And he approved? He approved, of course?'
'Beyond doubt the man was a traitor,' M. de Rosny answered delicately.'His life was forfeit, sire. Who can question it?'
'And he has paid the forfeit,' the king rejoined, looking down at thefloor and immediately falling into a moodiness as sudden as hisexcitement. His lips moved. He muttered something inaudible, and beganto play absently with his cup and ball, his mind occupied apparentlywith a gloomy retrospect. 'M. de Guise, M. de Guise,' he murmured atlast, with a sneer and an accent of hate which told of oldhumiliations long remembered. 'Well, damn him, he is dead now. He isdead. But being dead he yet troubles us. Is not that the verse,father? Ha!' with a start, 'I was forgetting. But that is the worstwrong he has done me,' he continued, looking up and growing excitedagain. 'He has cut me off from Mother Church. There is hardly a priestcomes near me now, and presently they will excommunicate me. And, as Ihope for salvation, the Church has no more faithful son than me.'
I believe he was on the point, forgetting M. de Rosny's presence thereand his errand, of giving way to unmanly tears, when M. deRambouillet, as if by accident, let the heel of his scabbard fallheavily on the floor. The king started, and passing his hand once ortwice across his brow, seemed to recover himself. 'Well,' he said, 'nodoubt we shall find a way out of our difficulties.'
'If your Majesty,' Rosny answered respectfully, 'would accept the aidmy master proffers, I venture to think that they would vanish thequicker.'
'You think so,' Henry rejoined. 'Well, give me your shoulder. Let uswalk a little.' And, signing to Rambouillet to leave him, he began towalk up and down with M. de Rosny, talking familiarly with him in anundertone. Only such scraps of the conversation as fell from them whenthey turned at my end of the gallery now reached me. Patching thesetogether, however, I managed to understand somewhat. At one turn Iheard the king say, 'But then Turenne offers----' At the next, 'Trusthim? Well, I do not know why I should not. He promises----' Then 'ARepublic, Rosny? That his plan? Pooh! he dare not. He could not.France is a kingdom by the ordinance of God in my family.'
I gathered from these and other chance words, which I have sinceforgotten, that M. de Rosny was pressing the king to accept the helpof the King of Navarre, and warning him against the insidious offersof the Vicomte de Turenne. The mention of a Republic, however, seemedto excite his Majesty's wrath rather against Rosny for presuming torefer to such a thing than against Turenne, to whom he refused tocredit it. He paused near my end of the promenade.
'Prove it!' he said angrily. 'But can you prove it? Can you prove it?Mind you, I will take no hearsay evidence, sir. Now, there isTurenne's agent here--you did not know, I dare say, that he had anagent here?'
'You refer, sire, to M. de Bruhl,' Rosny answered, without hesitation.'I know him, sire.'
'I think you are the devil,' Henry answered, looking curiously at him.'You seem to know most things. But mind you, my friend, he speaks mefairly, and I will not take this on hearsay even from your master.Though,' he added after pausing a moment, 'I love him.'
'And he, your Majesty. He desires only to prove it.'
'Yes, I know, I know,' the king answered fretfully. 'I believe hedoes. I believe he does wish me well. But there will be a devil of anoutcry among my people. And Turenne gives fair words too. And I do notknow,' he continued, fidgeting with his cup and ball, 'that it mightnot suit me better to agree with him, you see.'
I saw M. de Rosny draw himself up. 'Dare I speak openly to you, sire,'he said, with less respect and more energy than he had hitherto used.'As I should to my master?'
'Ay, say what you like,' Henry answered. But he spoke sullenly, and itseemed to me that he looked less pleasantly at his companion.
'Then I will venture to utter what is in your Majesty's mind,' mypatron answered steadfastly. 'You fear, sire, lest, having accepted mymaster's offer and conquered your enemies, you should not be easilyrid of him.'
Henry looked relieved! 'Do you call that diplomacy?' he said with asmile. 'However, what if it be so? What do you say to it? Methinks Ihave heard an idle tale about a horse which would hunt a stag; and forthe purpose set a man upon its back.'
'This I say, sire, first,' Rosny answered very earnestly. 'That theKing of Navarre is popular only with one-third of the kingdom, and isonly powerful when united with you. Secondly, sire, it is his interestto support the royal power, to which he is heir. And, thirdly, it mustbe more to your Majesty's honour to accept help from a near kinsmanthan from an ordinary subject, and one who, I still maintain, sire,has no good designs in his mind.'
'The proof?' Henry said sharply. 'Give me that!'
'I can give it in a week from this day.'
'It must be no idle tale, mind you,' the king continued suspiciously.
'You shall have Turenne's designs, sire, from one who had them fromhis own mouth.'
The king looked startled, but after a pause turned and resumed hiswalk. 'Well,' he said, 'if you do that, I on my part----'
The rest I lost, for the two passing to the farther end of thegallery, came to a standstill there, balking my curiosity andRambouillet's also. The marquis, indeed, began to betray hisimpatience, and the great clock immediately over our heads presentlystriking the half-hour after ten he started and made as if he wouldhave approached the king. He checked the impulse, however, but stillcontinued to fidget uneasily, losing his reserve by-and-by so far asto whisper to me that his Majesty would be missed.
I had been, up to this point, a silent and inactive spectator of ascene which appealed to my keenest interests and aroused my mostardent curiosity. Surprise following surprise, I had begun to doubt myown identity; so little had I expected to find myself first in thepresence of the Most Christian King--and that under circumstances asstrange and bizarre as could well be imagined--and then an authorisedwitness at a negotiation upon which the future of all the great landof France stretching for so many hundred leagues on every side of us,depended. I say I could scarcely believe in my own identity; or that Iwas the same Gaston de Marsac who had slunk, shabby and out-at-elbows,about St. Jean d'Angely. I tasted the first sweetness of secret power,which men say is the sweetest of all and the last relinquished; and,the hum of distant voices and laughter still reaching me at intervals,I began to understand why we had been admitted with so muchprecaution, and to comprehend the gratification of M. de Rosny whenthe promise of this interview first presented to him the hope ofeffecting so much for his master and for France.
Now I was to be drawn into the whirlpool itself. I was stilltravelling back over the different stages of the adventure which hadbrought me to this point, when I was rudely awakened by M. de Rosnycalling my name in a raised voice. Seeing, somewhat late, that he wasbeckoning to me to approach, I went forward in a confused and hastyfashion; kneeling before the king as I had seen him kneel, and thenrising to give ear to his Majesty's commands. Albeit, having expectednothing less than to be called upon, I was not in the clearest mood toreceive them. Nor was my bearing such as I could have wished it to be.
'M. de Rosny tells me that you desire a commission at Court, sir,' theking said quickly.
'I, sire?' I stammered, scarcely able to believe my ears. I was socompletely taken aback that I could say no more, and I stopped therewith my mouth open.
'There are few things I can deny M. de Rosny,' Henry continued,speaking very rapidly, 'and I am told that you are a gentleman ofbirth and ability. Out of kindness to him, therefore, I grant you acommission to raise twenty men for my service. Rambouillet,' hecontinued, raising his voice slightly, 'you will introduce thisgentleman to me publicly to-morrow, that I may carry into effect myintention on his behalf. You may go now, sir. No thanks. And M. deRosny,' he added, turning to my companion and speaking with energy,'have a care for my sake that you are not recognised as you go.Rambouillet must contrive something to enable you to leave
withoutperil. I should be desolated if anything happened to you, my friend,for I could not protect you. I give you my word if Mendoza or Retzfound you in Blois I could not save you from them unless yourecanted.'
'I will not trouble either your Majesty or my conscience,' M. de Rosnyreplied, bowing low, 'if my wits can help me.'
'Well, the saints keep you,' the king answered piously, going towardsthe door by which he had entered; 'for your master and I have bothneed of you. Rambouillet, take care of him as you love me. And comeearly in the morning to my closet and tell me how it has fared withhim.'
We all stood bowing while he withdrew, and only turned to retire whenthe door closed behind him. Burning with indignation and chagrin as Iwas at finding myself disposed of in the way I have described, andpitchforked, whether I would or no, into a service I neither fanciednor desired, I still managed for the present to restrain myself; and,permitting my companions to precede me, followed in silence, listeningsullenly to their jubilations. The marquis seemed scarcely lesspleased than M. de Rosny; and as the latter evinced a strong desire tolessen any jealousy the former might feel, and a generous inclinationto attribute to him a full share of the credit gained, I remained theonly person dissatisfied with the evening's events. We retired fromthe chateau with the same precautions which had marked our entrance,and parting with M. de Rambouillet at the door of our lodging--notwithout many protestations of esteem on his part and of gratitude onthat of M. de Rosny--mounted to the first-floor in single file and insilence, which I was determined not to be the first to break.
Doubtless M. de Rosny knew my thoughts, for, speedily dismissingMaignan and Simon, who were in waiting, he turned to me withoutpreface. 'Come, my friend,' he said, laying his hand on my shoulderand looking me in the face in a way which all but disarmed me at once,'do not let us misunderstand one another. You think you have cause tobe angry with me. I cannot suffer that, for the King of Navarre hadnever greater need of your services than now.'
'You have played me an unworthy trick, sir,' I answered, thinking hewould cozen me with fair speeches.
'Tut, tut!' he replied. 'You do not understand.'
'I understand well enough,' I answered, with bitterness, 'that, havingdone the King of Navarre's work, he would now be rid of me.'
'Have I not told you,' M. de Rosny replied, betraying for the firsttime some irritation, 'that he has greater need of your services thanever? Come, man, be reasonable, or, better still, listen to me.' Andturning from me, he began to walk up and down the room, his handsbehind him. 'The King of France--I want to make it as clear to you aspossible--' he said, 'cannot make head against the League withouthelp, and, willy-nilly, must look for it to the Huguenots whom he hasso long persecuted. The King of Navarre, their acknowledged leader,has offered that help; and so, to spite my master, and prevent acombination so happy for France, has M. de Turenne, who would fainraise the faction he commands to eminence, and knows well how to makehis profit out of the dissensions of his country. Are you clear sofar, sir?'
I assented. I was becoming absorbed in spite of myself.
'Very well,' he resumed. 'This evening--never did anything fall outmore happily than Rambouillet's meeting with me--he is a good man!--Ihave brought the king to this: that if proof of the selfish nature ofTurenne's designs be laid before him he will hesitate no longer. Thatproof exists. A fortnight ago it was here; but it is not here now.'
'That is unlucky!' I exclaimed. I was so much interested in his story,as well as flattered by the confidence he was placing in me, that myill-humour vanished. I went and stood with my shoulder against themantelpiece, and he, passing to and fro between me and the light,continued his tale.
'A word about this proof,' he said. 'It came into the King ofNavarre's hands before its full value was known to us, for that onlyaccrued to it on M. de Guise's death. A month ago it--this piece ofevidence I mean--was at Chize. A fortnight or so ago it was here inBlois. It is now, M. de Marsac,' he continued, facing me suddenly ashe came opposite me, 'in my house at Rosny.'
I started. 'You mean Mademoiselle de la Vire?' I cried.
'I mean Mademoiselle de la Vire!' he answered, 'who, some month or twoago, overheard M. de Turenne's plans, and contrived to communicatewith the King of Navarre. Before the latter could arrange a privateinterview, however, M. de Turenne got wind of her dangerous knowledge,and swept her off to Chize. The rest you know, M. de Marsac, if anyman knows it.'
'But what will you do?' I asked. 'She is at Rosny.'
'Maignan, whom I trust implicitly, as far as his lights go, will startto fetch her to-morrow. At the same hour I start southwards. You, M.de Marsac, will remain here as my agent, to watch over my interests,to receive Mademoiselle on her arrival, to secure for her a secretinterview with the king, to guard her while she remains here. Do youunderstand?'
Did I understand? I could not find words in which to thank him. Myremorse and gratitude, my sense of the wrong I had done him, and ofthe honour he was doing me, were such that I stood mute before him asI had stood before the king. 'You accept, then?' he said, smiling.'You do not deem the adventure beneath you, my friend?'
'I deserve your confidence so little, sir,' I answered, stricken tothe ground, 'that I beg you to speak, while I listen. By attendingexactly to your instructions I may prove worthy of the trust reposedin me. And only so.'
He embraced me again and again, with a kindness which moved me almostto tears. 'You are a man after my own heart,' he said, 'and if Godwills I will make your fortune. Now listen, my friend. To-morrow atCourt, as a stranger and a man introduced by Rambouillet, you will bethe cynosure of all eyes. Bear yourself bravely. Pay court to thewomen, but attach yourself to no one in particular. Keep aloof fromRetz and the Spanish faction, but beware especially of Bruhl. He alonewill have your secret, and may suspect your design. Mademoiselleshould be here in a week; while she is with you, and until she hasseen the king, trust no one, suspect everyone, fear all things.Consider the battle won only when the king says, "I am satisfied."'
Much more he told me, which served its purpose and has been forgotten.Finally he honoured me by bidding me share his pallet with him, thatwe might talk without restraint, and that if anything occurred to himin the night he might communicate it to me.
'But will not Bruhl denounce me as a Huguenot?' I asked him.
'He will not dare to do so,' M. de Rosny answered, 'both as a Huguenothimself, and as his master's representative; and, further, because itwould displease the king. No, but whatever secret harm one man can doanother, that you have to fear. Maignan, when he returns withmademoiselle, will leave two men with you; until they come I shouldborrow a couple of stout fellows from Rambouillet, Do not go out aloneafter dark, and beware of doorways, especially your own.'
A little later, when I thought him asleep, I heard him chuckle; andrising on my elbow I asked him what it was. 'Oh, it is your affair,'he answered, still laughing silently, so that I felt the mattressshake under him. 'I don't envy you one part of your task, my friend.'
'What is that?' I said suspiciously.
'Mademoiselle,' he answered, stilling with difficulty a burst oflaughter. And after that he would not say another word, bad, good, orindifferent, though I felt the bed shake more than once, and knew thathe was digesting his pleasantry.
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 67
