An Enemy to the King

by Robert Neilson Stephens

  CHAPTER VI.

  HOW HE FLED SOUTHWARD

  When one is pursued, one's best course is to pursue the pursuer. So, whenM. Barbemouche and his troop of Guisards had gone some distance down theroad, I came forth from the shed and followed them, afoot, keeping wellto the roadside, ready to vanish, should any of them turn back. It wasevident that Barbemouche had little or no hope of catching me on theroad. His plan was to surprise me at my chateau, or to lie there in waitfor me. He had not shown any persistence in questioning the landlord. Thelatter, through laziness or sheer stupidity, or a fear of incurring blamefor having sheltered a fugitive, had not given him any information thatmight lead him to suspect that the man he was seeking was so near. So Icould follow, in comparative safety, into Anjou.

  Their horses constantly increased the distance between the Guiseman-hunters and me, their desired prey. In a few hours they were out ofsight. Thus they would arrive at La Tournoire long before I could. Notfinding me there, they would probably put the servants under restraint,and wait in ambush for me. Several days of such waiting, I said tomyself, would exhaust their patience; thereupon, they would give up thehope of my seeking refuge at La Tournoire, and would return to theirmaster. My best course, therefore, would be to take my time on the road,to be on the alert on coming near La Tournoire, and to lie in hidinguntil I should be assured of their departure. In order to consume as muchtime as I could, and to wear out the enemy's patience without putting myown to the test, I decided to go first to Angers, deliver Marguerite'sletters to Monsieur and Bussy d'Amboise, and then make for La Tournoire.Therefore, when, after a few days of walking, I came to LeMans, I did notturn southward, towards La Tournoire, but followed the Sarthesouthwestward to Angers.

  On this journey, I skirted Rambouillet, Anneau, and the other towns in myway, and avoided large inns, for fear of coming up with the Guise party.I made my money serve, too, by purchasing cheaply the hospitality offarmers and woodmen. My youth had withstood well the experiencesattending my escape from Paris, and enabled me to fare on the coarse foodof the peasantry. There was plenty of healthy blood in my veins to keepme warm. Outside of my doublet, my shoulders had no covering but thelight mantle, of which I was now glad that I had been unable to ridmyself in my swim down the Seine. People who saw me, with my rumpledclothes and shapeless ruff and peasant's cap, probably took me for ayounger son who had endured hard fortune.

  Such was my condition when I reached Angers and presented myself at thegate of the chateau wherein the Duke of Anjou had taken residence. Therewere many soldiers in and about the town, and horsemen were arriving anddeparting. I might not easily have obtained audience of the Duke, had notBussy d'Amboise ridden up at the head of a small troop of horse, while Iwas waiting at the gate. I called out his name, and he recognized me,showing surprise at my appearance. I gave him his letter, and he had meconducted to the Duke, who was striding up and down the hall of thechateau. His mind was evidently preoccupied, perhaps already with fearsas to the outcome of his rebellious step, and he did not look at me whenhe took the letter. His face brightened, though, when he saw theinscription in Marguerite's handwriting, and he went, immediately, to awindow to read the letter. Bussy d'Amboise, who had dismounted and comein with me, now beckoned me to follow him, and when we were outside, heoffered to supply me with a horse, money and arms, proposing that I enterthe service of the Duke of Anjou. But I told him that I was bound forGascony, and when he still offered me some equipment, I protested that Iwould refurnish myself at my own chateau; so he let me go my way. I couldsee that he was in haste to break the seal of Marguerite's letter.

  I had gone two leagues or more northward from Angers, and was about toturn eastward toward La Tournoire, when I saw a long and brilliantcortege approaching from the direction of Paris. Several men-at-armswere at the head, then came a magnificent litter, then a number ofmounted ladies and gentlemen, followed by a host of lackeys, a number ofmules with baggage, and another body of soldiers. This procession waswinding down the opposite hillside. The head of it was already crossingthe bridge over a stream that coursed through the valley toward theSarthe. Slowly it came along the yellow road, the soldiers and gentlemenholding themselves erect on their reined-in horses, the ladies chattingor laughing, and looking about the country, the wind stirring the plumesand trappings, the sunlight sparkling on the armor and halberds of theguards, the sword-hilts of the gentlemen, the jewels and rich stuffswhich shone in the attire of the riders. There were velvet cloaks andgowns; satin and silk doublets, breeches, and hose; there were cloth ofgold and cloth of silver. Here and there the cavalcade passed clumps oftrees that lined the road, and it was then like pictures you have seenin tapestry.

  Concealment had lately become an instinctive act with me, and I nowsought refuge in the midst of some evergreen bushes, at a little distancefrom the road, from which I could view the cavalcade as it passed. On itcame, the riders throwing back their shoulders as they filled their lungswith the bracing country air. The day was a mild one for the time ofyear, and the curtains of the litter were open. Inside sat a number ofladies. With a start, I recognized two of the faces. One was Mlle.d'Arency's; the other was the Queen-mother's. Mlle. d'Arency wasnarrating something, with a derisive smile, to Catherine, who listenedwith the slightest expression of amusement on her serene face.

  Catherine was going to try to persuade her son, the Duke of Anjou, togive up his insurrectionary designs and return to the court of hisbrother. I guessed this much, as I lay hidden in the bushes, and Iheartily wished her failure. As for Mlle. d'Arency, I have no words forthe bitterness of my thoughts regarding her. I grated my teeth togetheras I recalled how even circumstance itself had aided her. She could havehad no assurance that in the combat planned by her I should kill DeNoyard, or that he would not kill me, and yet what she had desired hadoccurred. When the troop had passed, I arose and started for LaTournoire. It seemed to me that a sufficient number of days had nowpassed to tire the patience of Barbemouche, and that I might now visit mychateau for the short time necessary.

  Nevertheless, it was with great caution that I approached theneighborhood in which all my life, until my departure for Paris, had beenpassed. At each bend of the road, I stopped and listened before going on.When I entered a piece of woods, I searched, with my eyes, each side ofthe road ahead, for a possible ambush. When I approached the top of ahill, it was with my ears on the alert for the sound of horsemen or ofhuman feet, and, when I reached the crest, I found some spot where, lyingon my stomach or crouching behind underbrush, I could survey the lowlandahead. And so, meeting no indication of peril, treading familiar andbeloved ground, I at last reached the hill-top from which I would have mylong-expected view of La Tournoire. It was just sunset; with beatingheart, I hastened forward, risking something in my eagerness to lookagain upon the home of my fathers. I gazed down, ready to feast my eyeson the dear old tower, the peaceful garden, the--

  And I saw only a smouldering pile of ruins, not one stone of my chateauleft upon another, save a part of the stables, before which, heeding thedesolation no more than crows are repelled by the sight of a dead body,sat M. Barbemouche and two of his men throwing dice. Only one tree wasleft in the garden, and from one of its limbs hung the body of a man,through which a sword was thrust. By the white hair of the head, I knewthe body was that of old Michel.

  So this was the beginning of the revenge of the Duke of Guise upon a poorgentleman for having eluded him; thus he demonstrated that a follower ofhis might not be slain with impunity. And the Duke must have had theassurance of the King that this deed would be upheld; nay, probably theKing, in his design of currying favor with his powerful subject, hadpreviously sanctioned this act, or even suggested it, that the Duke mighthave no ground for suspecting him of protecting me.

  Grief at the sight of the home of my youth, the house of my ancestors,laid low, gave way to rage at the powerful ones to whom that sight wasdue,--the Duke who despoiled me, the King who had not protected me, theQueen as whose unknowing tool I h
ad made myself liable to this outrage.As I stood on that hill-top, in the dusk, and looked down on the ruins ofmy chateau, I declared myself, until death, the enemy to that Queen, thatDuke, and that King,--most of all to that King; for, having saved thelife of his favorite, having taken humble service in his Guards, andhaving received from him a hinted promise of advancement, I had theright to expect from him a protection such as he gave every day toworthless brawlers.

  At nightfall, I went to the hovel of a woodman, on whose fidelity I knewI could depend. At my call, he opened the door of his little hut, andreceived me with surprise and joy. With him was a peasant namedFrolichard.

  "Then you are alive, monsieur?" cried the woodman, closing the door afterme, and making for me a seat on his rude bed.

  "As you see," I replied. "I have come to pass the night in your hut.To-morrow I shall be off for the south."

  "Alas, you have seen what they have done! I knew nothing of it untilMichel was dead, and the servants came fleeing through the woods. Theyhave gone, I know not where, and the tenants, too. All but Frolichard. Asyet, the soldiers have not found this hut."

  By questioning him, I learned that M. Barbemouche had denounced me as aheretic and a traitor (I could see how my desertion from the FrenchGuards might be taken as implying intended rebellion and treason), andhad told Michel that my possessions were confiscated. What authority hepretended to have, I could not learn. It was probably in wrath at notfinding me that he had caused the destruction of my chateau, to makesure that it might not in any circumstances shelter me again.

  I well knew that, whatever my rights might be, my safety lay far from LaTournoire; and so did my means of retaliation.

  "If I had but a horse and a sword left!" I said.

  "There is a horse which I have been using, in my shed," replied theforester; "and I made one of the servants leave here the swords that hewas carrying away in his flight. Moreover, he had filled a bag withcrowns from Michel's strong box. So you need not leave entirelyunprovided."

  I thanked the faithful fellow as he brought forth the swords and thelittle bag of gold pieces from under his bed, and then I lay down tosleep. The peasant Frolichard was already dozing in a corner by the fire.

  I was awakened suddenly by a shake of the shoulder. The woodman stood bythe bed, with every sign of alarm on his face.

  "Monsieur," he whispered, "I fear you would best eat and begone. Thatcursed rascal, Frolichard, left while I was asleep. I am sure that thedevil has been too much for him. He has probably gone to tell thesoldiers that you are here. Eat, monsieur!"

  I sprang up, and saw that the forester had already prepared someporridge for me.

  "It is nearly dawn," he added, as I looked around I swallowed a fewmouthfuls of the porridge, and chose the better one of the swords. Then Itook up the little bag of golden crowns, and went out to mount horse. Theanimal that the woodman held for me was a sorry one, the ugliest andoldest of my stable.

  Yet I rode blithely through the woods, happy to have again a horseunder me, and a sword at my side. I knew that the forester could takecare of himself as long as there should remain woods to hunt in orstreams to fish in.

  When I reached, the road it was daylight. I made for the hill-top, andstopped for a last look at my fields. I did not have to hesitate as to mycourse. In my doublet was Marguerite's letter, to be borne to the King ofNavarre. Yet there was another reason why I should not attach myself tothe Duke of Anjou, although he was already in rebellion against the King:the look on his face, when I saw him at Angers, had convinced me that hewould not hold out. Should Catherine not win him back to allegiance, hisown weakness would. I would place my hopes in the future of Henri ofNavarre. Nothing could, as yet, be predicted with assurance concerningthis Prince, who, being the head of the house of Bourbon, whichconstituted the younger branch of the Royalty of France, was the highest,by blood, of the really Huguenot leaders. Some, however, whispered thatthere was more in him than appeared in his amours and his adventures ofthe chase.

  I was just about to turn my horse's head towards the south, when a mancame out of my half-ruined stable and looked up at me. Instantly hecalled to some one in the stable, and two or three other soldiers cameout. I recognized the burly form of one of these as that of Barbemouche.Another figure, a limp and cringing one, was that of Frolichard thepeasant. Barbemouche gave some orders, and two or three brought horsesout of the stable. I knew what all this meant.

  I turned my horse, and galloped off towards the south. In a few moments Iheard the footfalls of galloping horses behind me. Again I was the objectof a chase.

  When I had gone some distance, I looked back and saw my hunters coming,ten of them, down the hillside behind me. But the morning was bracing,and my horse had more life in him than at first sight appeared. I putanother hill behind me, but in time my followers appeared at its crest.Now they gained on me, now I seemed to leave them further behind. All daythis race continued. I bore directly southward, and hence passed far eastof Angers. I soon made up my mind that M. Barbemouche was a man ofpersistence. I did not stop anywhere for food or drink. Neither did M.Barbemouche. I crossed the Loire at Saumur. So did he.

  "Very well," I said. "If my horse only holds out, I will lead you all theway to Gascony."

  Once I let my horse eat and rest; twice I let him drink.

  At nightfall, the sound of the hoofs behind me gradually died away. Myown beast was foaming and panting, so I reined in to a walk. Near Loudun,I passed an inn whose look of comfort, I thought, would surely tempt mytired pursuers to tarry, if, indeed, they should come so far. Some hourslater, coming to another and smaller inn, and hearing no sound of pursuitbehind me, I decided to stop for a few hours, or until the tramp ofhorses' feet should disturb the silence of the night.

  The inn kitchen, as I entered, was noisy with shouts and curses. Onemight have expected to find a whole company of soldiers there, but to mysurprise, I saw only one man. This was a robust young fellow, with a biground face, piercing gray eyes, fiercely up-sprouting red mustache, and adouble--pointed reddish beard. There was something irresistiblypugnacious, and yet good-natured, in the florid face of this person. Hesat on a bench beside a table, forcibly detaining an inn maid with hisleft arm, and holding a mug of wine in his right hand. Beside him, on thebench, lay a sword, and in his belt was a pistol. He wore a brown clothdoublet, brown breeches, and green hose.

  "A thousand devils!" he roared, as I entered. "Must a fighting man standand beg for a kiss from a tavern wench? I don't believe in any of yourpainted saints, wooden or ivory, but I swear by all of them, good-lookinggirls are made to be hugged, and I was made to hug them! Here, you tentimes damned dog of a landlord, bring me another bottle of your filthywine, or I'll make a hole in your barrel of a body! Be quick, or I'llroast you on your own spit, and burn down your stinking old inn!" At thismoment he saw me, as I stood in the doorway. "Come, monsieur!" he cried,"I'm not fastidious, curse me, and you might drink with me if you werethe poxy old Pope himself! Here, wench, go and welcome the gentleman witha kiss!" And he shoved the girl towards me and began to pound, in sheerdrunken turbulence, on the table with his mug.

  I left the kitchen to this noisy guest, and took a room up-stairs, wherethe landlord presently brought me light and supper.

  I paid in advance for my night's lodging, and arranged to have access, atany time during the night, to the shed in which was my horse, so that atthe least alarm I might make hasty flight. I opened my window, that thesound of horses on the road might be audible to me from a distance.Then, having eaten, I put out my light and lay down, in my clothes, readyon occasion to rise and drop from the window, take horse, and be off.

  From the kitchen, below, came frequent sounds emitted or caused by thetipsy young Hercules in the brown doublet. Now he bellowed for wine, nowhe thundered forth profanity, now he filled the place with the noise ofGargantuan laughter; now he sang at the top or the depth of his big, fullvoice; then could be heard the crash of furniture in collision. Thesesounds continued un
til far into the night.

  I had intended not to sleep, but to lie with ears alert. I could not yetbring myself to feel that I was safe from pursuit. So used had I becometo a condition of flight, that I could not throw off the feeling of beingstill pursued. And yet, I had hoped that Barbemouche would tire of thechase. My plan had not been to confuse him as to my track, by takingby-roads or skirting the towns, but merely to outrun him. Because Iwished to reach Nerac at the earliest possible moment, and because thecountry was new to me and I desired not to lose my way, I had held to themain road southward, being guided in direction by the sun or the stars.Moreover, had I made detours, or skirted cities, Barbemouche might havegone ahead by the main road and lain in wait further south for my comingup, for Frolichard, the peasant, had heard me tell the woodman mydestination. So, in that first day's flight, I had trusted to the speedof my horse, and now there was some reason to believe that Barbemouchehad abandoned pursuit, as the soldiers had done who chased me from Paris.And yet, it seemed to me that this ugly Barbemouche was not one to giveup his chosen prey so soon.

  Despite my intention, I feel asleep, and when I awoke it was daylight. Isprang up and went cautiously down-stairs, sword in hand. But there wasno danger. Only the host and a servant were stirring in the inn. I made arapid breakfast, and went to see my horse fed. Before the shed, I saw theyoung man who had made such drunken tumult in the kitchen the previousnight. He was just about to mount his horse; but there was now nothing ofthe roysterer about his look or manner. He had restored neatness to hisattire, and his expression was sedate and humble, though strength andsturdiness were as apparent in him as ever.

  "A fine morning," I said, as the inn-servant brought out my own horse.

  "Yes, monsieur," said the young man, in a very respectful tone. "Asunrise like this is a gift from the good God."

  "Yet you look pensive."

  "It is because I know how little I deserve such mercy as to live on sucha day," answered the man, gravely; and he bowed politely, and rodesouthward.

  This devoutness and humility impressed me as being strangely out ofharmony with the profanity and turbulence of the night before, yet theone seemed no less genuine than the other.

  My horse fed, I mounted and rode after the sturdy youth.

  Not far from Mirebeau, happening to turn my head towards the north, Isaw, in the distance, a group of horsemen approaching at a steady gallop.From having looked back at this group many times during the precedingday, I had stamped certain of its figures on my memory, and I nowrecognized it as Barbemouche and his party.

  "Another day of it," I said, to myself, and spurred my horse to a gallop.

  An increase in their own pace told me that they in turn hadrecognized me.

  "This grows monotonous," I mused. "If there were only fewer of them, ormore of me, I would make a stand."

  Presently I came up with the young man in the brown doublet. He stared atme with a look of inquiry as I passed at such speed; then he looked backand saw the distant horsemen coming on at equal speed. He appeared torealize the situation at a glance. Without a word, he gave his own horsea touch of the spur, with the manifest intention of keeping my company inmy flight.

  "You have a good horse," I said to him, at the same time watching him outof the corner of my eye, seeking some indication that might show whether,on occasion, he would stand as my friend or my enemy.

  "Better than yours, I fear, monsieur," he replied.

  "Mine has been hard run," I said, lightly.

  Presently he looked back, and said:

  "Ah, the devil! Your friends, back there, are sending out an advanceguard. Three of them are making a race of it, to see which shall have thehonor of first joining you."

  I looked back. It was true; three of them were bearing down withgreat speed, evidently on fresh horses. Barbemouche remained backwith the rest.

  I urged on my horse.

  "It is useless, monsieur," said the young man at my side. "Your beast isno match for theirs. Besides, you will not find a better place to make astand than the bridge yonder." And he pointed ahead to a bridge thatcrossed a narrow stream that lay between high banks.

  "What, face ten men?" I said.

  "There are only three. The thing may be over before the others come up."

  I laughed. "Well, admitting that, three against one--" I began.

  "Oh, there will be two of us," replied the other.

  My heart gave a joyous bound, but I said, "I cannot expect you to riskyour life in my quarrel."

  And he answered, "By God! I myself have a quarrel with every man thatwears on his hat the white cross of the Guises!" His grey eyes flashed,his face became red with wrath. "Let us stop, monsieur."

  We stopped and turned our horses on the narrow bridge. We both drew swordand waited. My new-found ally threw back his hat, and I saw across hisforehead a deep red scar, which I had not before noticed.

  The three men rode up to the attack. They all stopped suddenly beforethey reached the bridge.

  "Give up your sword and come with us, monsieur," cried one of them to me.

  I said nothing. "Go to hell!" roared my companion. And with that hecharged with the fury of a wild beast, riding between two of thehorsemen, and thrusting his sword through the eye and into the brain ofone before either could make the least show of defence. His horse comingto a quick stop, he drew his weapon out of the slain man's head andturned on the other. While there was some violent fencing between thetwo, and while the dead man's horse reared, and so rid itself of itsbleeding burden, the third horseman urged his horse towards me. I turnedthe point of his rapier, whereupon he immediately backed, and then camefor me again just as I charged on him. Each was too quick to meet theother's steel with steel. His sword passed under my right arm and mysword under his right arm, and we found ourselves linked together, arm toarm. I saw him reach with his left hand for his dagger, and I grew sickat the thought that I had no similar weapon with which to make matterseven. He plucked the dagger from his belt, and raised it to plunge itinto my back; but his wrist was caught in a clutch of iron. My man in thebrown doublet, in backing his horse to make another charge on his stillremaining opponent, had seen my antagonist's motion, and now, with atwist of his vigorous fingers, caused the dagger to fall from a limp arm.Then my comrade returned to meet his own enemy, and I was again on equalterms with mine. We broke away from each other. I was the quicker toright myself, and a moment later he fell sidewise from his horse, piercedthrough the right lung.

  I backed my horse to the middle of the bridge, and was joined by mystalwart friend, who had done for his second man with a dagger thrustin the side.

  "Whew!" he panted, holding his dripping weapons on either side of him, soas not to get any more blood on his clothes. Then a grin of satisfactionappeared on his perspiring face, and he said:

  "Three Guisards less to shout '_Vive la messe_.' It's a pity we haven'ttime to exchange horses with these dead whelps of hell. But the othersare coming up, and we ought to rest awhile."

  We sheathed our weapons and spurred on our horses, again southward.Looking back, soon, we saw that the other pursuers, on coming up to theirdead comrades, had chosen first to look after the belongings of thelatter rather than to avenge their deaths. And while Barbemouche and hismen, of whom there were now six, tarried over the dead bodies, we madesuch good speed that at last we were out of sight of them.

  My first use of my returned breath was to thank my stalwart ally.

  He received my gratitude with great modesty, said that the Lord hadguided his arm in the fight, and expressed himself with a humility thatwas in complete contrast to the lion-like fury shown by him in thecombat. Judging him, from his phrases, to be a Huguenot, I asked whetherhe was one, by birth, as I was.

  "By birth, from my mother," he replied. "My father was a Catholic, and inorder to win my mother, he pretended to have joined the reformers. Thatdeceit was the least of his many rascally deeds. He was one of the choseninstruments of the devil,--a violent, roysteri
ng cut-throat, but a goodsoldier, as was shown in Italy and at St. Quentin, Calais, Jarnac, andelsewhere. My mother, though only the daughter of an armorer's workman,was, in goodness, an angel. I thank God that she sometimes has the upperhand in me, although too often it is my father that prevails in me." Hesighed heavily, and looked remorseful.

  In subsequent talk, as we rode, I learned that he was a soldier who hadlearned war, when a boy, under Coligny. He had fought at his father'sside against Italians, Spanish, and English, and against his father incivil war. His father had died of a knife-wound, received, not in battle,but from a comrade in a quarrel about a woman, during the sacking of atown. His mother, when the news of the fate of her unworthy spousereached the village where she lived, died of grief. The son was nowreturning from that village, which was near Orleans, and whither he hadbeen on a visit to his relations, to Gascony, where he had been employedas a soldier in the small army with which Henri of Navarre made shift togarrison his towns.

  I told him that I hoped to find a place in that little army.

  "You do well, monsieur," said the young soldier, whose intelligence andnative dignity made him, despite his peasant origin, one with whom agentleman might converse. "Some day they will learn in France of whatstuff the little Bearnaise King is made. I have stood watching him whenhe little supposed that a common soldier might take note of such things,and I have seen on his face the sign of great intentions. More goes onunder that black hair than people guess at,--he can do more than drinkand hunt and make love and jest and swear."

  He was in no haste to reach Gascony, he said, and so he intended to visita former comrade who dwelt in a village some leagues from my road. In theafternoon, coming to the by-road which led to this place, he left me,with the words:

  "My name is Blaise Tripault, and should it happen that you ever enroll acompany for the King of Navarre--"

  "The first name on my list shall be Blaise Tripault," I replied, smiling,and rode on, alone.

  Whenever I heard riders behind me, I looked back. At evening I reached aneminence which gave a good view of the country through which I hadpassed. Two groups of horsemen were visible. One of these consisted ofseven men. The chief figure was a burly one which I could notmistake,--that of Barbemouche.

  "_Peste_!" I muttered, frowning. "So they are following me into Poitou!Am I never to have any rest?"

  I took similar precautions that night to those which I had taken thenight before. The next day, about noon, emerging out of a valley, I sawmy pursuers on the top of the hill at my rear. Plainly, they intended tofollow me to the end of the earth. I hoped they would stop in Poitiersand get drunk, but they tarried there no more than I. And so it was,later, at Civray and at Angouleme.

  Every day I got one or two glimpses of this persistent pack of hounds.Every night I used like measures to make sudden flight possible. Onenight the sound for which I kept my ears expectant reached them,--thesound of horses' hoofs on the hard road. I dropped from the open windowof the inn at which I was, led out my horse from the shed, and made off,southward. The noise made by their own horses prevented my pursuers fromhearing that made by mine. Presently the clatter abruptly ceased,whereupon I knew that they had stopped at the inn which I had left. Myrelief at this was offset by chagrin at a discovery made by me at thesame moment: I had left my bag of golden crowns in the inn chamber. Idared not now go back for them. Well, Nerac could not be far away, now. Ihad traversed a good part of Guienne. The Dordogne was behind me.

  I was glad that I had taken better care of the letter from Marguerite toher husband than I had taken of my crowns. Fortunately it had not leftmy doublet. I felt that my future depended on the delivery of thatletter. There could be no doubt that Marguerite had recommended me in itwith a favor that would obtain for me both protection and employment fromthe King of Navarre.

  Daylight came, and with it hunger. I stopped at an inn, and was about todismount, when I remembered that I had no money.

  I could do without food for a time, but my horse could not. I told thelandlord,--a short, heavy, square-faced, small-eyed man,--that I would,later, send him payment for a breakfast. He looked at me with acontempt that even a peasant dare show to a gentleman, when thegentleman has no money.

  "Very well, then," I said. "I will leave you security."

  He looked more respectful at this, and made a quick examination of mewith his eyes.

  "Unless you have some jewelry about you," he said, "your sword is theonly thing that I would accept."

  "You clod," I exclaimed, in a rage. "I ought to give you my sword throughthe body."

  "A gentleman ought not to demand, for nothing, that which a poor manmakes his living by selling," answered the host, turning to go in.

  I looked down at my horse, which had already shown an endurance beyondits stock, and which now turned its eyes, hungrily, towards the innstable. At the same time I thought I heard the sound of hoofs, awaynorthward. After all, the delivery of the letter depended more on thehorse than on my sword, for one horse is more likely to beat seven horsesthan one sword to beat seven swords.

  To try whether it were possible, I made one movement, as if to hand overthe weapon. But my arm refused. As well try to pluck the heart out of mybody, and give it to the dog's keeping. Rather kill the man on his ownthreshold and, like a brigand, help myself. But I chose to be merciful.

  "Be quick, then," I said. "Bring me some wine, and feed my horse as itstands here. I could take, for nothing, what you ask such highsecurity for."

  "And I have three strong sons," said the innkeeper, impudently. But hebrought the wine, and ordered one of his sons to bring oats for thehorse. So we made our breakfast there, horse and man, standing before theinn door. When the animal had licked up the last grain, I suddenly hurledthe heavy wine-mug at the innkeeper's head, wheeled my horse about, andgalloped off, shouting back to the half-stunned rascal, "Your three sonsmust be swift, as well as strong, to take my sword." And I rode on,southward.

  "Will the Guisards follow me over this river, also?" I asked myself, asI crossed the Garonne.

  In the afternoon, I stopped for another look backward. There was not asoul to be seen on the road.

  "Adieu, M. Barbemouche!" I said. "I believe you have grown tired ofme at last."

  At that instant a group appeared at the distant turn of the road. Icounted them. Seven! And they were coming on at the speed of the wind.

  I patted my horse on his quivering neck. "Come, old comrade," I said."Now for one last, long race. In your legs lies my future."

  He obeyed the spur, and his increased pace revealed a slight lameness,which had not before been perceptible.

  "We have only to reach some Gascon town," I said to him. "The soldiersof the King of Navarre will protect the bearer of a letter to him fromtheir Queen."

  I turned in my saddle, and looked back. They were gaining ground.

  "They know that this is their last chance," I said. "We are near thecountry held by the King of Navarre, and so they make a last effortbefore giving up the chase. On, my staunch fellow! You shall have finetrappings, and shall fare as well as your master, for this!"

  The animal maintained its pace as if it understood; but it pantedheavily and foamed, its eyes took on a wild look, and its lamenessincreased.

  "They are coming nearer, there is no doubt of it!" I told myself. "Have Iescaped from the Louvre and from Paris, led my enemies a chase throughfive provinces, to be taken when refuge is at last in sight? ShallMarguerite's letter to Henri of Navarre fall into the hands of those whowish him no good?"

  Tears gushed from my eyes as I thought of the cruelty of destiny, whichhad sustained me so far in order to betray me at the end. I took theletter from my doublet, and held it ready to tear into pieces should Iindeed be caught. Although Marguerite was thought to have secrets withthe Duke of Guise, it was likely that she would not wish him to know whatshe might write to her husband, whose political ally she always was.

  And now my horse dropped its head lower at each bound
forward. The sevenhorses behind showed no sign of tiring.

  "Thank God, I kept my sword! I can kill one of them, at least!"

  I no longer looked back. Blindly forward I went, impelled only to deferthe end to the last possible moment. God knew what might yet intervene.

  Suddenly my horse gave a snort of pain, stumbled blindly, and fell to hisknees. He slid forward a short distance, carried on by his impetus, andthen turned over on his side, and lay quivering. I had taken my feet fromthe stirrups at his stumble, so that I now stood over his body.

  I heard the loud clank of the hoofs behind. I stepped over the horse, anddrew my sword. A short distance ahead was a clump of scrubby pines; thereI would turn and make my stand.

  Then was the time when I might have torn up the letter, had I notsuddenly forgotten my intention. I held it clutched in my hand,mechanically, as I ran. I was conscious of only one thing,--that deathwas bearing down on me. The sound of the horses' footfalls filled myears. Louder and louder came that sound, drowning even the quick pantingof my breath. Again came that aching in the side, that intolerable painwhich I had felt in my flight from Paris.

  I pressed my hand to my side, and plunged forward. Suddenly the roadseemed to rise and strike me in the face. I had fallen prostrate, and nowlay half-stunned on the earth. I had just time to turn over on my back,that I might face my pursuers, when the foremost horse came up.

  "Well, my man," cried the rider, in a quick, nervous voice, as I lookedstupidly up at his short, sturdy figure, hooked nose, keen eyes, blackhair and beard, and shrewd, good-natured face, "did you think the devilwas after you, that you ran so hard? _Ventre Saint Gris_! You would makean excellent courier."

  "I am a courier," I answered, trying to rise. "I ran so fast that I mightsoon reach Nerac with this letter for your majesty."

  And I held the letter out to King Henri of Navarre.