The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER X

  A Perilous Journey

  A number of peasants with market carts were waiting outside the gates, and for the first few miles of their ride the road was dotted with people making their way to the city. As they rode, Malcolm discussed the question of the best road to be taken. Ronald himself was still in favour of pushing straight forward, for he was not so convinced as his follower that a serious attempt would be made to interrupt their journey. He pointed out that the road, as far as Orleans at least, was one of the most frequented in France, and that in that city even the most reckless would hardly venture to assault them.

  “I agree with you, Ronald, that the road offers less opportunities for ambushes than most others, for the country is flat and well cultivated; but after all a dozen men with muskets could lie in ambush in a cornfield as well as a wood, and the fact that people are going along the road counts for little one way or the other, for not one in fifty would venture to interfere if they saw a fray going on. But granting that so far as Orleans the country is open and cultivated, beyond that it is for the most part forest; but above all—although they may regard it as possible that we may be on our guard, and may travel by other roads—it is upon this direct line that they are sure to make the most preparations for us. Beyond that it can only be chance work. We may go by one road or by another. There may be one trap set on each road; but once past that and we are safe.”

  After riding for upwards of an hour they came, at the turn of the road, upon two carts. One had apparently broken down, and the other had stopped that those with it might give assistance in repairing it. One cart was turned across the road, and the other filled the rest of the space.

  “Stop!” Malcolm exclaimed, checking his horse suddenly.

  “What is it?” Ronald asked in surprise.

  “Turn back!” Malcolm said sharply as he wheeled his horse round.

  Ronald, without a word, did the same, and they galloped a hundred yards down the road.

  “We were nearly caught there,” Malcolm said.

  “Why, how do you mean?”

  “Never mind now, Ronald. Turn sharp to the right here, and make a detour through the fields. You will soon see whether I was right.”

  “It is a shame riding through this ripe corn,” Ronald said, as without any further comment he leaped his horse over the bank and dashed off among the golden grain, which stretched far and wide on both sides of the road.

  They had not gone fifty yards before they heard loud shouts, and as they came abreast of where the carts were standing several shots were fired, and ten or twelve men were seen running through the corn as if to cut them off. But although they heard the whiz of the bullets they were too far off to be in much danger, and the men on foot had no chance of cutting them off, a fact which they speedily perceived, as one by one they halted and fired. A few hundred yards farther the two horsemen came round into the road again and pursued their journey.

  “Well, what do you think of that, Ronald?”

  “It was an ambush, no doubt, Malcolm; but what on earth made you suspect it? I saw nothing suspicious. Merely two carts in the road, with three or four men doing something to one of the wheels.”

  “I am in a suspicious humour this morning, Ronald, and it is lucky I am. The sight of the two carts completely blocking the road brought me to a halt at once, and as I checked my horse I saw a movement among the bushes on the right of the road, and felt sure that it was an ambush. It was a well laid one, too, and had we ridden on we should have been riddled with bullets. No doubt there were men lying in the carts. They would have jumped up as we came up to them, and the fellows in the bushes would have taken us in the rear; between their two fires our chances would have been small indeed. No doubt they had a man on watch, and directly they saw us coming they got their carts across the road, and took up their positions. It was a well contrived scheme, and we have had a narrow escape.”

  “Thanks to your quickness and watchfulness, Malcolm, which has saved our lives. I admit that you are right and I was wrong, for I own that I did not share your apprehensions as to the dangers of our journey. Henceforth I will be as much on the lookout as you are, and will look with suspicion at every beggar woman that may pass.”

  “And you will be right to do so,” Malcolm said seriously; “but for the present I think that we are safe. This, no doubt, was their main ambush, and they may reasonably have felt certain of success. However, we may be sure that they did not rely solely upon it. This, no doubt, is the unmounted portion of their gang. They were to try and put a stop to our journey at its outset; but mounted men will have ridden on ahead, especially as they couldn’t have been sure that we should follow this road. We might have gone out by one of the other gates at the south side of the town, and they will have watched all the roads. Now I propose that we take the next lane which branches off to the right, and travel by byroads in future. Do not press your horse too fast. We have a long journey before us, and must always have something in hand in case it is necessary to press them to full speed.”

  Two miles further a road branched to the right. As they approached it Ronald was about to touch his horse’s rein, when Malcolm said shortly, “Ride straight on.”

  Although surprised at this sudden change of plan, Ronald obeyed without question.

  “What was that for?” he asked when he had passed the turning.

  “Did you not see that man lying down by the heap of stones at the corner?”

  “Yes, I saw him; but what of that?”

  “I have no doubt he was on the lookout for us. Yes, I thought so,” he went on, as he stood up in his stirrups and looked back; “there, do you see that horse’s head in that little thicket, just this side of where the road separates? I expected as much. If we had turned off, in another two minutes that fellow would have been galloping along this road to take the news to those ahead, and they would have ridden to cut us off further along. I have no doubt we shall find someone on watch at every turning between this and Orleans.”

  “But this is a regular campaign, Malcolm.”

  “It is a campaign, Ronald. The ruffians and thieves of Paris form a sort of army. They have heads whom they implicitly obey, and those who have money enough to set this machine in motion can command the services of any number of men. Sharp fellows, too, many of them are, and when they received orders to arrest our journey to Tours at any cost, they would not omit a single precaution which could ensure success. Their former attack upon you, and its result, will have showed them that we are not children, and that the enterprise was one which demanded all their efforts.”

  “What is our next move now, Malcolm?”

  “We will turn off before we get to the next road. They can see a long way across these level plains; so we will dismount and lead our horses. The corn is well nigh shoulder deep, and if we choose a spot where the ground lies rather low, neither that scoundrel behind nor the one at the next road is likely to see us.”

  Half a mile further there was a slight dip in the ground.

  “This is a good spot,” Malcolm said. “This depression extends far away on our right, and although it is very slight, and would not conceal us if the ground were bare, it will do so now, so let us take advantage of it.”

  So saying he dismounted, and leading his horse, turned into the cornfield. Ronald followed him, and for two miles they kept straight on through the corn; then they came upon a narrow road connecting two villages. They mounted and turned their horses’ heads to the south.

  “It is as well that none of the peasants saw us making through their corn,” Ronald said, “or we should have had them upon us with stone and flail like a swarm of angry bees.”

  “It could not be helped,” Malcolm replied, “and we could easily have ridden away from them. However, it is just as well that we have had no bother with them. Now we will quicken our pace. We are fairly between two of the main roads south, and if we can contrive to make our way by these village tracks we shall at an
y rate for some time be free from all risk of molestation.”

  “I should think we should be free altogether,” Ronald said. “When they find we do not come along the road they will suppose we have been killed at the first ambush.”

  Malcolm shook his head.

  “Do not build upon that, Ronald. No doubt as soon as we had passed, some of those fellows mounted the horses we saw in the carts, and rode off in accordance with an agreed plan to give notice that we had passed them safely, and were proceeding by that road. In the next place the fellow we saw on watch would most likely after a time mount and follow us, and when he got to the watcher at the next crossroad and found that we had not come along there would know that we must have turned off either to the right or left. One of them is doubtless before this on his way to the next party with the news, while the other has set to work to find out where we turned off, which will be easy enough to discover. Still, we have gained something, and may fairly reckon that if we ride briskly there is no fear of those who were posted along the road we have left cutting us off.”

  They rode all day at a steady pace, stopping occasionally for a short time to allow the horses a rest and a feed. The people in the quiet little villages looked in surprise at the young officer and his follower as they rode through their street or stopped for a quarter of an hour while the horses were fed, for even Malcolm agreed that such pauses were unattended by danger. It was rarely, indeed, that a stranger passed along these bypaths, and the peasants wondered among themselves what could induce them to travel by country byways instead of following the main roads.

  As they left the rich plains of the Beauce, the country was less carefully cultivated. The fields of corn were no longer continuous, and presently they came to tracts of uncultivated land with patches of wood. They now left the little road they had been following, and rode straight across country, avoiding all villages. They crossed several hills, and late in the afternoon drew rein in a wide spreading forest. They were, Malcolm thought, quite as far south as Orleans, and by starting at daylight would arrive at Tours by midday.

  “Here at least we are perfectly safe,” he said; “when we approach Tours our perils will begin again. When once they find that we have given them the slip they are not likely to try to intercept us anywhere along the route till we near the town, for they will know that the chances are enormous against their doing so, and the parties along the various roads will push on so as to meet us somewhere near that city. The river can only be crossed at certain points, and they will feel sure we shall go by one or other of them.”

  “And I suppose we shall,” Ronald said.

  “No, Ronald; my idea is that we turn west and ride to Le Mans, then take a wide detour and enter Tours from the south side. It will take us a day longer, but that is of little consequence, and I think that we shall in that way entirely outwit them. The only precaution we shall have to take is to cross the main road on our right at some point remote from any town or village.”

  “I think that is a capital plan. I do not mind a share of fair fighting; but to be shot down suddenly in an ambush like that of this morning, I own I have little fancy for it.”

  Hobbling their horses, they turned them loose to pick up what they could in the forest, and then sat down to enjoy a good meal from the ample supply Malcolm had brought with him. When night fell they unstrapped their cloaks from their saddles and rolled themselves in them, and lay down to sleep. An hour later they were roughly awakened, each being seized by three men, who, before they could attempt to offer resistance, bound their arms to their sides, and then hurried them along through the forest.

  “I have been a fool, Ronald,” Malcolm said bitterly; “I ought to have kept watch.”

  “It was not your fault, Malcolm. One could never have guessed that they would have found us in this forest. Somebody must have followed us at a distance and marked us down, and brought the rest upon us; but even had you kept watch it would have been no good, for they would have shot us down before we could make any resistance.”

  “I wonder they didn’t cut our throats at once,” Malcolm said. “I don’t know what they are troubling to make us prisoners for.”

  Presently they saw a light in the forest ahead of them, and soon arrived at a spot where a number of men were sitting round a fire.

  “You had no trouble with them, Pierre, I suppose?”

  “No, captain, they slept as soundly as moles. They have been speaking some strange language as we came along.”

  “Thank God!” Malcolm exclaimed fervently. “I think, after all, Ronald, we have only fallen in with a band of robbers, and not with our enemies.”

  “Unbind their hands,” the captain of the band said, “but first take away their swords and pistols. Gentlemen, may I ask you to be seated; and then, perhaps, you will inform us what you, an officer in the Scotch dragoons, as I perceive by your uniform, are doing here in the forest?”

  Ronald, to whom the question was principally addressed, replied frankly:

  “We took to this forest, I fancy, for the same reason for which you use it, namely, for safety. We are on our way to Tours, and there are some people who have interest in preventing our arriving there. They made one attempt to stop us near Paris; fortunately that failed, or we should not be now enjoying your society; but as it was likely that another attempt would be made upon the road, we thought it better to leave it altogether and take to the forest for the night.”

  “What interest could anyone have in preventing an officer of the king from arriving at Tours?” the man asked doubtfully.

  “It is rather a long story,” Ronald said, “but if it is of interest to you I shall be happy to relate it; and I may mention that there are three bottles of good wine in the valise of one of the saddles, and a story is none the worse for such an accompaniment.”

  A laugh went round the circle at Ronald’s coolness, and a man stepped forward with the two saddles which he had carried from the spot when the captives had been seized. The wine was taken out and opened.

  “Yes,” the captain of the band said, after tasting it, “the wine is good; now let us have your story.”

  Ronald gave them an outline of his history, told them how his father and mother had been for many years imprisoned for marrying contrary to the king’s pleasure, and how he had at last obtained the royal order for their release, and how the enemies of his parents were now trying to prevent him from having those orders carried out. “There are the orders,” Ronald said as he concluded, taking them from the inner pocket where he carried them. “You see they are addressed to the abbess of the convent of Our Lady at Tours, and to the governor of Blois.”

  “The story you tell us is a singular one,” the captain replied, “and I doubt not its truth. What was the name of your father?”

  “He was Colonel Leslie, and commanded the same regiment to which I belong.”

  “I remember him,” one of the band said. “Our regiments were quartered together, nigh twenty years ago, at Flanders, and I was in Paris at the time when he was imprisoned. We were in the next barracks to the Scotchmen, and I remember what a stir it made. The regiment was very nigh mutinying.”

  “And I remember you too, though I cannot recall your name,” Malcolm said, rising and looking hard at the speaker; “and if I mistake not we have cracked many a flask together, and made many a raid on the hen roosts of the Flemish farmers. My name is Malcolm Anderson.”

  “I remember you well,” the other said, rising and giving him his hand. “Of course I met you scores of times, for the regiments were generally brigaded together.”

  “That confirms your story altogether, monsieur,” the captain of the band said. “From this moment do not consider yourself a prisoner any longer. I may say that we had no expectation of booty in your case, and you were captured rather from curiosity than from any other reason. One of my men, this afternoon, happened to see you ride into the wood and then dismount and make preparations for passing the night there. He repor
ted the matter to me. I know that gentlemen of your cloth—I may say of mine, for I was once an officer of his majesty, though I left the service somewhat hastily,” and he smiled, “on account of an unfortunate deficiency in the funds of the regiment in which I happened, at the time, to be acting as paymaster—are seldom burdened with spare cash, but the incident seemed so strange that I determined to capture and question you. If you happen to have more cash on you than you care about carrying we shall be glad to purchase a few bottles of wine equal to that which you have given us. If not, I can assure you that I do not press the matter.”.

  “I am obliged to you for your courtesy,” Ronald said; “and as at present I really happen to be somewhat flush of cash I am happy to contribute ten louis for the laudable purpose you mention.”

  So saying he took out his purse, counted out ten pieces, and handed them to the captain.

  The action was received with a round of applause, for the robbers had not, from the first, anticipated obtaining any booty worth speaking of, and the turn affairs had taken had altogether driven any idea of gain from their minds.

  “I thank you warmly, sir,” the captain said, “and promise you that I will tomorrow despatch a messenger to Orleans, which is but ten miles away, and will lay out the money in liquor, with which we will, tomorrow night, drink your health and success in the enterprise. Nay, more, if you like, a dozen of my men shall accompany you on your road to Tours. They have, for various reasons, which I need not enter into, a marked objection to passing through towns, but as far as Blois they are at your service.”

  “I thank you for your offer,” Ronald replied, “but will not accept it, as we intend to ride tomorrow morning to Le Mans, and then to enter Tours from the south side, by which we shall throw our enemies completely off the scent.”

  “But why do you not go to Blois first?” the man asked. “It is on your way to Tours.”

  “I wish my mother to be present at the release of my father. So long a confinement may well have broken him down. Now that I see how obstinately bent our enemies are upon our destruction I will take with me two or three stout fellows from Tours, to act as an escort.”