Book: An Enemy To The King

R >> Robert Neilson Stephens >> An Enemy To The King




But I was not to be moved from my intention. When a man has finished a
set task, it is time to eat and drink. Therefore, we stopped at the
little inn at the northern edge of Fleurier. A gray, bent innkeeper, very
desirous of pleasing, welcomed us and went to look after our horses,
while Blaise, acting the part of master, ordered a black-eyed, pretty
inn-maid to serve us dinner in a private chamber. The room assigned us
was at the head of a stairway leading from the kitchen. We had no sooner
seated ourselves than our ears were assailed by the clatter of many
horses on the road outside. They stopped before the inn, and we heard the
voices of two men who entered the kitchen, and of a great number who
remained without. When the inn-maid brought us a bottle of wine, Blaise
asked her whose cavalcade it was that waited before the inn.

"It is that of the governor of the province, M. de la Chatre," said she,
"who is below with his secretary, M. de Montignac."

And she left the room in haste to help serve so distinguished a guest.




CHAPTER VIII.

A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS


Blaise looked at me solemnly, with a face that seemed to say, "Did I not
warn you?" We had seated ourselves at either side of a small, rough
table, I on the edge of the bed, Blaise on a three-legged stool. For a
moment I sat returning Blaise's gaze across the table; then noticing that
the maid had left the door of our chamber slightly ajar, I arose and
walked stealthily to the crack, through which I could see a part of the
kitchen below. Blaise remained seated at the table, glumly watching me.

I saw the maid bearing wine to a table near the window, where sat the two
guests whose names she had mentioned. The landlord was carrying a tray
full of bottles and drinking-cups out to La Chatre's men, who remained
before the inn, some having dismounted, some still on horse. I could hear
their talk, their oaths and cries to one another and to their horses, the
snorts and pawings of their steeds. A shout of welcome greeted the coming
of the landlord with the wine.

With curiosity I fastened my gaze on the two at the table. I knew
instantly that the stout, erect, authoritative gentleman with the
carefully trimmed gray beard, full cheeks, proud brow, fearless eyes, and
soldierly air, must be Claude de la Chatre, governor of the Orleannais
and Berri; and that the slender, delicately formed, sinuous, graceful
youth with smooth-shaven face, fine sharply cut features, intelligent
forehead, reddish hair, intent gray eyes, and mien of pretended humility,
was the governor's secretary, Montignac. La Chatre's look was frank,
open, brave. Montignac had the face of a man assuming a character, and
awaiting his opportunity, concealing his ambition and his pride,
suppressing the scorn that strove to disclose itself at the corners of
his womanish mouth. La Chatre wore a rich black velvet doublet and
breeches, and black leather riding-boots. Montignac was dressed, in
accordance with his pretence of servility, in a doublet of olive-colored
cloth, breeches of the same material, and buff boots. He sat entirely
motionless, looking across the table at his master with an almost
imperceptibly mocking air of profound attention.

Monsieur de la Chatre appeared to be in a bad humor. He gulped down his
wine hastily, seeming not to taste it. With a frown of irritation he
drew from his belt a letter, of which the seal was already broken.
Opening it with quick, angry motions, he held it before him, and
frowned the more deeply.

"_Peste!"_ he exclaimed, when the maid had left the kitchen; and then he
went on in a rich, virile, energetic voice: "To be met on the road by
such a letter! When I saw the courier in the distance I felt that he was
bound for me, and that he brought annoyance with him. The duke has never
before used such a tone to me. If he were on the ground, and knew the
trouble these dogs of heretics give me, he would doubtless change his
manner of speech."

"Monseigneur the Duke of Guise certainly wrote in haste, and therefore
his expressions have an abruptness that he did not intend," replied
Montignac, in a low, discreet, deferential voice, whose very tone was
attuned to the policy of subtle flattery which he employed towards his
master. "And he acknowledges, as well, your many successes as he
complains of your failure to catch this Sieur de la Tournoire."

So the letter by which the governor was so irritated came from the Duke
of Guise, and concerned myself! My work in Berri had not been in vain.
Instinctively I grasped the hilt of my sword, and at the same time I
smiled to myself to think how La Chatre might have felt had he known
that, while himself and his secretary were the only persons in the inn
kitchen, the Sieur de la Tournoire saw and heard them from the crack of
the slightly open door at the top of the stairway. To make myself safer
from discovery, I now took my eye from the crack, keeping my ear
sufficiently near to catch the words of my enemies. I glanced at Blaise,
who had heard enough to acquaint him with the situation, and whose
open-eyed face had taken on an expression of alertness and amazement
comical to behold. He, too, had mechanically clutched the handle of his
sword. Neither of us moving or speaking, we both listened. But the
governor's next words were drowned by the noise that came from outside,
as the landlord opened the front door to reenter the inn. La Chatre's
men, now supplied with wine, had taken up a song with whose words and
tune we were well acquainted.

"Hang every heretic high,
Where the crows and pigeons pass!
Let the brood of Calvin die;
Long live the mass!
A plague on the Huguenots, ah!
Let the cry of battle ring:
Huguenots, Huguenots, Huguenots, ah!
Long live the king!"

The singers uttered the word "Huguenots," and the exclamation "ah," with
an expression of loathing and scorn which could have been equalled only
by the look of defiance and hate that suddenly alighted on the face of
Blaise. He gave a deep gulp, as if forcing back, for safety, some
answering cry that rose from his breast and sought exit. Then he ground
his teeth, and through closed lips emitted from his throat a low growl,
precisely like that of a pugnacious dog held in restraint.

The landlord closed the door, and the song of La Chatre's men sank into a
rudely melodious murmur. The host then went out by a rear door, and the
governor resumed the conversation.

"_Corboeuf_! He is a fox, this Tournoire, who makes his excursions by
night, and who cannot be tracked to his burrow."

"We know, at least," put in the secretary, in his mild way, "that his
burrow is somewhere in the wooded mountains at the southern border of the
province."

"Then he knows those mountains better than the garrisons do," said
La Chatre. "The troops from the southern towns have hunted the
hills in vain."

"When such a task as the capture of this rebel is entrusted to many, it
is not undertaken with zeal. The chance of success, the burden of
responsibility, the blame of failure, are alike felt to be divided."

This observation on the part of the youthful secretary seemed to be
regarded by the governor as presumptuous. It elicited from him a frown
of reproof. His look became cold and haughty. Whereupon Montignac
gently added:

"As you, monsieur, remarked the other day."

La Chatre's expression immediately softened.

"The governor's brains are in the head of the secretary," thought I; "and
their place in his own head is taken by vanity."

"I remember," returned La Chatre. "And I added, did I not,
that--ahem, that--"

"That the finding of this Huguenot nuisance ought to be made the
particular duty of one chosen person, who should have all to gain by
success, or, better still, all to lose by failure."

And the suave secretary looked at his master with an expression of secret
contempt and amusement, although the innocent governor doubtless saw only
the respect and solicitude which the young man counterfeited.

"You are right," said the governor, with unconcealed satisfaction. "I
ought to reward you for reminding me. But your reward shall come,
Montignac. The coming war will give me the opportunity to serve both the
King and the Duke of Guise most effectually, and by whatever favor I
gain, my faithful secretary shall benefit."

"My benefit will be due to your generosity, not to my poor merit,
monsieur," replied Montignac, with an irony too delicate for the
perception of the noble governor.

"Oh, you have merit, Montignac," said La Chatre, with lofty
condescension. Then he glanced at the letter, and his face clouded. "But
meanwhile," he added, in obedience to a childish necessity of
communicating his troubles, "my favor depends, even for its continuance
in its present degree, on the speedy capture of this Tournoire. The
rascal appears to have obtained the special animosity of the Duke by
some previous act. Moreover, he is an enemy to the King, also a deserter
from the French Guards, so that he deserves death on various accounts,
old and new."

Herein I saw exemplified the inability of the great to forget or forgive
any who may have eluded their power.

"Let me, therefore," continued the governor, "consider as to what person
shall be chosen for the task of bagging this wary game."

And he was silent, seeming to be considering in his mind, but really, I
thought, waiting for the useful Montignac to suggest some one.

"It need not be a person of great skill," said Montignac, "if it be one
who has a strong motive for accomplishing the service with success. For,
indeed, the work is easy. The chosen person," he went on, as if taking
pleasure in showing the rapidity and ingenuity of his own thoughts, "has
but to go to the southern border, pretending to be a Huguenot trying to
escape the penalties of the new edicts. In one way or another, by moving
among the lower classes, this supposed fugitive will find out real
Huguenots, of whom there are undoubtedly some still left at Clochonne and
other towns near the mountains. Several circumstances have shown that
this Tournoire has made himself, or his agents, accessible to Huguenots,
for these escapes of heretics across the border began at the same time
when his rescues of Huguenot prisoners began. Without doubt, any
pretended Protestant, apparently seeking guidance to Guienne, would, in
associating with the Huguenots along the Creuse, come across one who
could direct him to this Tournoire."

"But what then?" said the governor, his eagerness making him forget his
pretence of being wiser than his secretary. "To find him is not to make
him prisoner,--for the Duke desires him to be taken alive. He probably
has a large following of rascals as daring and clever as himself."

"Knowing his hiding-place, you would send a larger body of troops
against him."

"But," interposed the governor, really glad to have found a weak point in
the plan suggested by his secretary, "in order to acquaint me with his
hiding-place, if he has a permanent hiding-place, my spy would have to
leave him. This would excite his suspicions, and he would change his
hiding-place. Or, indeed, he may be entirely migratory, and have no
fixed place of camping. Or, having one, he might change it, for any
reason, before my troops could reach it. Doubtless, his followers patrol
the hills, and could give him ample warning in case of attack."

"Your spy," said Montignac, who had availed himself of the governor's
interruption to empty a mug of wine, "would have to find means of doing
two things,--the first to make an appointment with La Tournoire, which
would take him from his men; the second, to inform you of that
appointment in time for you to lead or send a company of soldiers to
surprise La Tournoire at the appointed place."

"_Par dieu_, Montignac!" cried the governor, with a laugh of derision.
"Drink less wine, I pray you! Your scheme becomes preposterous. Of what
kind of man do you take him to be, this Sieur de la Tournoire, who offers
a reward, in my own province, for my head and that of the Duke of Guise?"

"The scheme, monsieur," said Montignac, quietly, not disclosing to the
governor the slightest resentment at the latter's ridicule, "is quite
practicable. This is the manner in which it can be best conducted. Your
chosen spy must be provided with two messengers, with whom he may have
communication as circumstances may allow. When the spy shall have met La
Tournoire, and learned his hiding-place, if he have a permanent one, one
messenger shall bring the information to you at Bourges, that you may
go to Clochonne to be near at hand for the final step. Having sent the
first messenger, the spy shall fall ill, so as to have apparent reason
for not going on to Guienne. On learning of your arrival at
Clochonne,--an event of which La Tournoire is sure to be informed,--your
spy shall make the appointment of which I spoke, and shall send the
second messenger to you at Clochonne with word of that appointment, so
that your troops can be at hand."

"The project is full of absurdities, Montignac," said the governor,
shaking his head.

"Enumerate them, monsieur," said Montignac, without change of tone or
countenance.

"First, the lesser one. Why impede the spy with the necessity of
communicating with more than one messenger?"

"Because the spy may succeed in learning the enemy's hiding-place, if
there be one, and yet fail in the rest of the design. To learn his
hiding-place is at least something worth gaining, though the project
accomplish nothing more. Moreover, the arrival of the first messenger
will inform you that the spy is on the ground and has won La Tournoire's
confidence, and that it is time for you to go to Clochonne. The
appointment must not be made until you are near at hand, for great
exactness must be observed as to time and place, so that you can surely
surprise him while he is away from his men."

"Montignac, I begin to despair of you," said the governor, with a look
of commiseration. "How do you suppose that La Tournoire could be induced
to make such an appointment? What pretext could be invented for
requesting such a meeting? In what business could he be interested that
would require a secret interview at a distance from his followers?"

I thought the governor's questions quite natural, and was waiting in much
curiosity for the answer of Montignac, of whose perspicacity I was now
beginning to lose my high opinion, when the inn-maid entered the kitchen,
and the secretary repressed the reply already on his lips. She took from
the spit a fowl that had been roasting, and brought it to our chamber. To
avoid exciting her suspicions I had to leave my place of observation and
reseat myself on the bed.

Having placed the fowl, hot and juicy, on the table between us, the maid
went away, again leaving the door partly open. Blaise promptly attacked
the fowl, but I returned to my post of outlook.

"Lack of zeal?" I heard the governor say. "_Par-dieu,_ where have I
let a known Huguenot rest in peace in my provinces since the edicts
have been proclaimed? And I have even made Catholics suffer for
Showing a disposition to shield heretics. There was that gentleman of
this very town--"

"M. de Varion," put in Montignac.

"Ay, M. de Varion,--a good Catholic. Yet I caused his arrest because he
hid his old friend, that Polignart, who had turned heretic. _Mon dieu_,
what can I do more? I punish not only heretics, but also those who shield
heretics. Yet the Duke of Guise hints that I lack zeal!"

"As to M. de Varion," said Montignac; "what is your intention
regarding him?"

"To make an example of him, that hereafter no Catholic will dare shelter
a Huguenot on the score of old friendship. Let him remain a prisoner in
the château of Fleurier until the judges, whom I will instruct, shall
find him guilty of treason. Then his body shall hang at the château gate
for the nourishment of the crows."

"Fortunately," said Montignac listlessly, "he has no family to give
trouble afterward."

"No son," replied the governor. "Did not M. de Brissard say that there
was a daughter?"

"Yes, an unmarried daughter who was visiting some bourgeois relation in
Bourges at the time of her father's arrest."

"When she learns of her father's incarceration she will probably pester
me with supplications for his release. See to it, Montignac, that this
Mlle. de Varion be not suffered to approach me."

My eavesdropping was again interrupted by the return of the inn-maid. On
going out of the chamber this time, she closed the door. Hunger and
prudence, together, overcoming my curiosity, I did not open it, but
joined Blaise in disposing of the dinner. The table at which we ate was
near the window of the chamber, and we could look out on the grassy space
of land before the inn. La Chatre's men were moving about, looking to
their horses and harness, talking in little groups, and watching for
their master's appearance at the inn door.

Presently four new figures came into view, all mounted. From our window
we could see them plainly as they approached the inn. One of these
newcomers was a young lady who wore a mask. At her side rode a maid,
slim, youthful, and fresh-looking. Behind these were two serving boys,
one tall, large, and strong; the other small and agile.

"By the blue heaven!" Blaise blurted out; "a dainty piece of womankind!"

"Silence, Blaise!" I said, reprovingly. "How dare you speak with such
liberty of a lady?"

"I thought I was supposed to be masquerading as a gentleman," he growled.
"But it was not of the lady that I spoke. It was the maid."

The lady had the slender figure of a woman of twenty. Over a
tight-fitting gown of blue cloth, she wore a cloak of brown velvet, which
was open at the front. Fine, wavy brown hair was visible beneath her
large brown velvet hat. She wore brown gloves and carried a riding whip.
As for her face, her black mask concealed the upper part, but there were
disclosed a delicate red mouth and a finely cut chin. The throat was
white and full.

The maid was smaller than the mistress. She had a pretty face, rather
bold blue eyes, an impudent little mouth, an expression of
self-confidence and challenge.

La Chatre's men made room for this little cavalcade to pass to the inn.
The maid looked at them disdainfully, but the lady glanced neither to
right nor left. Having ridden up close to the inn, they dismounted and
entered, thus passing out of our sight.

I would fain have again looked down into the kitchen, now that these
attractive guests had arrived to disturb the governor's confidential
talk, but the inn-maid had closed our chamber door tight, and I might
have attracted the governor's attention by opening it. Moreover, I could
not long cherish the idea of watching, unobserved, the movements of a
lady. So, for some time, Blaise and I confined our attention to the
dinner, Blaise frequently casting a glance at the door as if he would
have liked to go down-stairs and make a closer inspection of the pretty
face of the maid.

Several times we heard voices, now that of a lady, now that of the
governor, as if the two were conversing together, but the words spoken
were not distinguishable. It did not please me to think that the lady
might have come hither to join the governor.

At last the noise of La Chatre's men remounting told us that the governor
had rejoined them from the inn. Looking out of the window, we saw him at
their head, a splendid, commanding figure. Montignac, studious-looking,
despite the horse beneath him, was beside the governor. I noticed that
the secretary sat a horse as well as any of the soldiers did. I observed,
too, and with pleasure, that the lady was not with them; therefore, she
was still in the inn. I was glad to infer that her acquaintance with La
Chatre was but casual, and that her meeting with him at the inn had been
by chance.

The governor jerked his rein, and the troop moved off, northward, bound I
knew not whither, the weapons and harness shining in the sunlight. I
turned to Blaise with a smile of triumph.

"And now what of your croakings?" I asked. "As if the safest place in all
France for us was not within sound of M. de la Chatre's voice, where he
would never suppose us to be! It did not even occur to him to ask what
guests were in the upper chamber! What would he have given to know that
La Tour noire sat drinking under the same roof with him! Instead of
coming to disaster, we have heard his plans, and are thus put on our
guard. More of your evil forebodings, my amiable Blaise! They mean good."

But Blaise looked none the less gloomy. "There is yet time for evil to
come of this journey, my captain," he said gravely.

I now made haste to finish my meal, that I might go down into the kitchen
ere the lady in the brown robe should depart.

Presently, Blaise, glancing out of the window, exclaimed, "The devil! We
are not yet rid of our friends! There is one of them, at least!"

I looked out and saw two mounted gentlemen, one of whom was Montignac,
the governor's secretary, who had ridden back. The other, with whom he
was talking in low tones, and with an air of authority, was a man of
my own age, dressed in the shabby remains of rich clothes. His face
showed the marks of dissipation, and had a cynical, daredevil look.
Now and then a sarcastic smile broke suddenly over the handsome and
once noble features.

"I have seen that man, somewhere, before," said I to Blaise.

While I stood searching my memory, and the man sat talking to Montignac,
both having stopped their horses in front of the inn, there tramped up,
from the South, four other travellers, all of a kind very commonly seen
on the highways, in those days of frequent war. They were ragged soldiers
of fortune, out at elbows, red of cheek and nose, all having the same
look of brow-beating defiance, ready to turn, in a moment, into abject
servility. The foremost of these was a big burly fellow with a black
beard, and a fierce scowl.

As he came up towards the gentleman with whom Montignac was talking,
there suddenly came on me a sense of having once, in the dim past, been
in strangely similar circumstances to those in which I was now. Once,
long ago, had I not looked out in danger from a place of concealment upon
a meeting of those two men before an inn?

The burly rascal saluted the mounted gentleman, saying, in a coarse,
strident voice:

"At your service, M. le Vicomte de Berquin."

"Know your place, Barbemouche!" was the quick reply. "I am talking with a
gentleman."

Then I remembered the morning after my flight from Paris, seven years
before. Montignac's reckless-looking companion had been the gay gentleman
going north, at whom I had looked from an inn shed. The other was the man
who had afterwards chased me southward at the behest of the Duke of
Guise. But he no longer wore on his hat the white cross of Lorraine, and
the Vicomte de Berquin's apparel was no longer gay and spotless. The two
had doubtless fallen on hard ways. Both showed the marks of reverses and
hard drinking. Barbemouche's sword was, manifestly, no longer in the pay
of the Duke of Guise, but was ready to serve the first bidder.

Barbemouche shrugged his shoulders at De Berquin's reproof, and led his
three sorry-looking companions to a bench in front of the inn, where they
searched their pockets for coin before venturing to cross the threshold.

Montignac now pointed to the inn, spoke a few last earnest words to
Berquin, handed the latter a few gold pieces, cast at him a threatening
look at parting, and galloped off to rejoin M. de la Chatre, whose
cavalcade was now out of our sight. De Berquin gave him an ironical bow,
kissed the gold pieces before pocketing them, dismounted, and entered the
inn, replying only with a laugh to the supplicating looks of the
moneyless Barbemouche and his hungry-looking comrades on the bench.

"Now I wonder what in the devil's name the governor's secretary was
saying to that man?" growled Blaise Tripault.

For reply, I gave a look which reflected the surmise that I saw in
Blaise's own eyes.

"Well," I said, "if it be that, the Vicomte de Berquin will be a vastly
ingenious gentleman if he can either find our hiding-place, or delude me
away from my men. To think that they should have chosen the first
mercenary wretch they met on their way! Yet doubtless the perspicacious
Montignac knows his man."

"The secretary pointed to this inn as if he were telling him that you
were here," observed Blaise, meditatively.

"But inasmuch as the secretary does not know that I am here," said I,
"his pointing to the inn could not have accompanied that information. He
was doubtless advising his friend to begin his enterprise with a hearty
meal, which was very good advice. And now, as this Vicomte de Berquin
does not know me by sight, let us go down and make his acquaintance.
Remember that you are the master, and make a better pretence of it than
you have usually made."

"I pretend the master no worse than you pretend the servant," muttered
Blaise, while I opened the door of our chamber. A moment later we were
descending the stairs leading to the kitchen.

Copyright (c) 2007. knowncrafts.net. All rights reserved.