Book: An Enemy To The King

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I clutched the curtain to give vent to my rage. Mademoiselle was looking
towards me, and saw the curtain move.

"Say no more!" she cried, fearful lest his continuance might be too much
for my restraint. "I cannot hear you?"

"I love you, mademoiselle," he went on, losing his self-control, so that
his face quivered with passion. "I can save you and your father!"

He thrust his face so close to hers that she drew back with an expression
of disgust.

"A fine love, indeed?" she cried, scornfully, "that would buy the love it
dare not hope to elicit free!" And she turned to La Chatre as if for
protection. But the governor shook his head, and remained motionless at
the window.

"A love you shall not despise, mademoiselle!" hissed Montignac, stung by
her scorn. He was standing by the table near the bed, and, in his
anger, he made to strike the table with his dagger, but he struck
instead the tray on the table, and so produced a loud, ringing sound
that startled the ear.

"Your fate is in my hands," he went on; "so is your father's. As for this
Tournoire, concerning whom you have suddenly become scrupulous, he is,
doubtless, by this time in the hands of the troops who have gone for him,
and very well it is that we decided not to wait for you to lead him to
us. So he had best be dismissed from your mind, as he presently will be
from this life. Accept me, and your father goes free! Spurn me, and he
dies in the château of Fleurier, and you shall still belong to me! Why
not give me what I have the power and the intention to take?"

"If you take it," cried mademoiselle, "that is your act. Were I to give,
that would be mine. It is by our own acts that we stand or fall in our
own eyes and God's!" She spoke loudly, in a resolute voice, as if to show
me that she could look to herself, so that I need not come out to her
defence,--for well she guessed my mind, and knew that, though she had
consented a thousand times to betray me, I would not stand passive while
a man pressed his unwelcome love on her. And now, as if to force a change
of theme by sheer vehemence of manner, she turned her back towards
Montignac and addressed La Chatre with a fire that she had not
previously shown.

"You have heard the proposal of this buyer of love! You hear me reject
it! M. de la Chatre, I hold you to your word. I have been of some service
to you in the matter of La Tournoire, and you would, in some measure,
reward me! You have said it! Very well! You expect to capture him
to-night at his hiding-place. Through me you learned that hiding-place,
therefore, through me you will have taken him. There is but one possible
way in which you can reward me: Keep your word! What if I did refuse to
plan the ambush? You yourself had already decided to dispense with that.
In the circumstances, all that I could have done for you I have done.
Would I could undo it! But I cannot! Therefore, give me now, at once, an
order that I may take to Fleurier for my father's release!"

La Chatre was plainly annoyed, for he loved to keep the letter of his
word. He could not deceive this woman, as he had at first felicitated
himself on doing, with a false appearance of fair dealing. She saw
through that appearance. It was indeed irritating to so honest a
gentleman. To gain time for a plausible answer, he moved slowly from the
window to the centre of the chamber. At the same time, mademoiselle, to
be further from Montignac, went towards the door by which she had entered
the room on my arrival. The secretary, with wolf-like eyes, followed
her, and both turned so as still to face the governor.

"I shall devise some proper reward for you," said La Chatre, slowly. "I
adhere always to the strict letter of my word; but I am not bound to free
your father. The strict letter of my word, remember! Recall my words to
you at the inn. I recall them exactly, and so does Montignac, who this
very evening reminded me of--ahem, that is to say, I recall them exactly.
I was to send the order to the governor of Fleurier for your father's
immediate release the instant I should stand face to face with the Sieur
de la Tournoire in the château of Clochonne."

I threw aside the bed-curtain, stepped forth, and said:

"That time has come, monsieur!"




CHAPTER XVII.

SWORD AND DAGGER


M. de la Chatre could not have been more surprised if a spirit had risen
from the floor at his feet. He stared at me with startled eyes. I had
sheathed my sword while behind the curtains, and now I stood motionless,
with folded arms, before him. Mademoiselle uttered a slight cry.
Montignac, who stood beside her, was as much taken aback as La Chatre
was, but was quicker to comprehend the situation. Without moving from his
attitude of surprise, he regarded me with intense curiosity and hate.
This was his first sight of me, hence his curiosity. He had already
inferred that mademoiselle loved me, therefore his hate.

"Who are you?" said La Chatre, at last, in a tone of mingled alarm and
resentment, as one might address a supernatural intruder.

"The Sieur de la Tournoire," said I, "standing face to face with you in
the château of Clochonne! You shall give mademoiselle that order for her
father's release, or you shall never break your word again."

And I drew my sword, and held it with its point towards his breast.

The fear of death blanched his cheeks and spurred his dull wits.

"Montignac," he cried, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, "if this man makes
a move, kill the woman!"

In his situation of peril, his mind had become agile. He had suddenly
perceived how things were between mademoiselle and me.

As I have shown, Montignac stood with mademoiselle at some distance from
La Chatre and myself. I dared not take my eye from the governor, lest he
should step out of reach of my sword; but I could hear Montignac quickly
unsheathe his dagger, and mademoiselle give a sharp ejaculation of pain.
Then I turned my head for a moment's glance, and saw that he had caught
her wrist in a tight grasp, and that he held his dagger ready to plunge
it into her breast.

For a short time we stood thus, while I considered what to do next. It
was certain that Montignac would obey the governor's order, if only out
of hatred for me and in revenge on her for his despised love, though he
might fall by my sword a moment later. Therefore, I did not dare go to
attack him any more than I dared attack La Chatre. The governor, of
course, would not let her be killed unless I made some hostile movement,
for if she were dead nothing could save him from me, unless help came. He
feared to call for help, I suppose, lest rather than be taken I should
risk a rush at Montignac, and have himself for an instant at my mercy,
after all.

I cast another glance at Montignac, and measured the distance from me to
him, to consider whether I might reach him before he could strike
mademoiselle. La Chatre must have divined my thought, for he said:

"Montignac, I will deal with this gentleman. Take mademoiselle into that
chamber and close the door." And he pointed to the door immediately
behind mademoiselle, the one by which I had first seen her enter.

"But, monsieur--" began Montignac.

"I had not quite finished, Montignac," went on La Chatre. "I have my
reason for desiring you and the lady to withdraw. Fear not to leave me
with him. Lame as I am, I am no match for him, it is true, but
mademoiselle shall continue to be a hostage for his good behavior."

"I understand," said Montignac, "but how shall I know--?"

"Should M. de la Tournoire make one step towards me," said the
governor,--here he paused and took up the hunting-horn and looked at it,
but presently dropped it and pointed to the bowl of fruit on the table
near the fireplace,--"I shall strike this bowl, thus." He struck the
bowl with his stick, and it gave forth a loud, metallic ring, like that
previously produced by Montignac's dagger from the tray on the other
table. "The voice is not always to be relied on," continued the governor.
"Sometimes it fails when most needed. But a sound like this," and he
struck the bowl again, "can be made instantly and with certainty. Should
you hear one stroke on the bowl,--one only, not followed quickly by a
second stroke,--let mademoiselle pay for the rashness of her champion!"

"Yes, monsieur," replied Montignac, a kind of diabolical triumph in
his voice.

"It may be," said La Chatre, "that no such violent act will be necessary,
and that I shall merely require your presence here. In that case, I shall
strike twice rapidly, thus. Therefore, when you hear a stroke, wait an
instant lest there be a second stroke. But if there be no second, act as
I have told you."

"After you, mademoiselle," said Montignac, indicating by a motion his
desire that she should precede him backward out of the chamber. He still
clutched her arm and held his dagger aloft, intending thus to back out of
the room after her.

"I will not go!" she answered, trying to resist the force that he was
using on her arm.

This was the first resistance she had offered She had previously stood
motionless beneath his lifted dagger, feeling herself unable to break
from his grasp of iron, and supposing that any effort to do so would
bring down the dagger into her delicate breast. A woman's instinctive
horror of such a blow deterred her from the slightest movement that might
invite it. She had trusted to me for what action might serve to save us
from our enemies. But now her terror of leaving my presence, and her
horror of being alone with Montignac, overcame her fear of the dagger. "I
will not go!" she repeated.

"Go, mademoiselle," said I, gently, taking her glove from my belt, where
I had placed it, and kissing it, to show that I was still her devoted
chevalier. "Go! 'Tis the better way." For I welcomed any step that might
take Montignac from the chamber, and leave La Chatre's wit unaided to
cope with mine.

Her eyes showed submission, and she immediately obeyed the guidance
of Montignac's hand. Facing me still, he went out after her, and
closed the door.

I was alone with La Chatre.

"My secretary stood a little too near the point of your sword," said the
governor, "for the perfect security of my hostage. There was just a
possibility of your being too quick for him. I saw that you were
contemplating that possibility. As it is now, should I give him the
signal,--as I shall if you move either towards me or towards that
chamber,--he could easily put mademoiselle out of the way before you
could open the door. Not that I desire harm to mademoiselle. Her death
would not serve me at all It would, indeed, be something that I should
have to deplore. If I should deplore it, how much more would you! And
since you surely will not be so ungallant as to cause the death of so
charming a lady, I think I have you, let us say, at a slight
disadvantage!" And he sat down beside the table near the fireplace.

"I think not so, monsieur," said I, touching lightly with my sword's
point the tray on the table near the bed; "for should you strike once on
your bowl, I should very quickly strike once on this tray, so that two
strokes would be heard, and the obedient Montignac, mindful of his
orders, would enter this chamber, _not_ having slain mademoiselle."

I ought not to have disclosed this, my advantage. I ought rather to have
summoned Montignac by two strokes on the tray, and been at the door to
receive him. But I had not waited to consider. I spoke of the advantage
as soon as I noticed it, supposing that La Chatre, on seeing it, would
think himself at my mercy and would come to my terms. He was taken back
somewhat, it is true, but not much.

"Pah!" he said "After all, I could shout to him."

"It would be your last shouting. Moreover, your shouted orders would be
cut off unfinished, and the punctilious Montignac would be left in doubt
as to your wishes. Rather than slay mademoiselle on an uncertainty, he
would come hither to assure himself,--in which case God pity him!"

"Thank you for your warning, monsieur," said La Chatre, with mock
courtesy. "There shall be no shouting."

Whereupon he struck the bowl with his stick. Taken by surprise, I could
only strike my tray with my sword, so that two strokes might surely be
heard, although at the same time he gave a second stroke, showing that
his intention was merely to summon Montignac. In my momentary fear for
mademoiselle's life, and with my thoughts instantly concentrated on
striking the tray, I did not have the wit to leap to the door and receive
Montignac on my sword's point, as I would have done had I myself summoned
him, or had I expected La Chatre's signal.

So there I stood, far from the door, when it opened, and the secretary
advanced his foot across the threshold. Even then I made a movement as if
to rush on him, but he brought forward his left hand and I saw that it
still clutched the white wrist of mademoiselle. Only her arm was visible
in the doorway. Montignac still held his dagger raised. One step
backward and one thrust, and he could lay her dead at his feet. Had I
been ready at the door for him, I could have killed him before he could
have made these two movements; but from where I stood, I could not have
done so. So I listened in some chagrin to the governor's words.

"I change the signal, Montignac. At one stroke, do not harm the lady, but
come hither; but should you hear two strokes, or three, or any number
more, she is to be sacrificed."

"My dagger is ready, monsieur!"

Again the door closed; again I was alone with La Chatre.

I had lost my former advantage. For now, should I strike my tray
once, for the purpose of summoning Montignac, so that I might be at
the door to slay him at first sight, the governor could strike his
bowl, and Montignac would hear two strokes or more--signal for
mademoiselle's death.

"And now, monsieur," said the governor, making himself comfortable in his
chair between table and fireplace, "let us talk. You see, if you approach
me or that door, or if you start to leave this chamber, I can easily
strike the bowl twice before you take three steps."

I could see that he was not as easy in his mind as he pretended to be. It
was true that, as matters now were, his life was secure through my regard
for mademoiselle's; but were he to attempt leaving the room or calling
help, or, indeed, if help were to come uncalled, and I should find my own
life or liberty threatened, I might risk anything, even mademoiselle's
life, for the sake of revenge on him. He would not dare save himself by
letting me go free out of his own château. To do that would bring down
the wrath of the Duke of Guise, would mean ruin. That I knew well. If I
should go to leave the chamber, he would give the signal for Montignac to
kill mademoiselle. As for me. I did not wish to go without her or until I
should have accomplished a certain design I had conceived. Thus I was La
Chatre's prisoner, and he was mine. Each could only hope, by thought or
talk, to arrive at some means of getting the better of the other.

La Chatre's back was towards the door by which I had entered. By mere
chance, it seemed, I turned my head towards that door. At that instant,
my man, Frojac, appeared in the doorway. He had approached with the
silence of a ghost. He carried the arquebus that had belonged to the
guardsman, and his match was burning. Risking all on the possible effect
of a sudden surprise on the governor, I cried, sharply:

"Fire on that man, Frojac, if he moves."

La Chatre, completely startled, rose from his chair and turned about,
forgetful of the stick and bowl. When his glance reached Frojac, my good
man had his arquebus on a line with the governor's head, the match
dangerously near the breech.

"I have looked after the guards, monsieur," said Frojac, cheerily,
"both of them."

"Stand where you are," said I to him, "and if that gentleman attempts to
strike that bowl, see that he does not live to strike it more than once."

"He shall not strike it even once, monsieur!"

"You see, M. de la Chatre," said I, "the contents of an arquebus travel
faster than a man can."

"This is unfair!" were the first words of the governor, after his season
of dumb astonishment.

"Pardon me," said I. "It is but having you, let us say, at a slight
disadvantage; and now I think I may move."

I walked over to the governor's table and took up the bowl. La Chatre
watched me in helpless chagrin, informing himself by a side glance that
Frojac's weapon still covered him.

"You look somewhat irritated and disgusted, monsieur," said I. "Pray
sit down!"

As I held my sword across the table, the point in close proximity to his
chest, he obeyed, uttering a heavy sigh at his powerlessness. I then
threw the bowl into the bed, taking careful aim so that it might make no
sound. At that moment I saw La Chatre look towards the chamber in which
were Montignac and mademoiselle, and there came on his face the sign of
a half-formed project.

"See also, Frojac," said I, "that he does not open his mouth to shout."

"He shall be as silent as if born dumb, monsieur."

"Oh, he may speak, but not so loud as to be heard in the next chamber.
Look to it, Frojac."

"Very well, monsieur."

For I did not wish, as yet, that Montignac should know what was going on.
Through the closed door and the thick tapestried walls, only a loud cry,
or some such sound as a stroke on the resonant bowl or tray, could have
reached him. We had spoken in careful tones, La Chatre not daring to
raise his voice. Thus the closing of the door, intended by the governor
to make Montignac safer from a sudden rush on my part, now served my own
purpose. It is true that, since Frojac had appeared, and the governor
could not make his signal, I might have summoned Montignac by a single
stroke, and despatched him in the doorway. But now that my own position
was easier, I saw that such a manoeuvre, first contemplated when only a
desperate stroke seemed possible, was full of danger to mademoiselle. I
might bungle it, whereupon Montignac would certainly attempt one blow
against her, though it were his last. I must, therefore, use the governor
to release her from her perilous situation; but first I must use him for
another purpose, which the presence of the keen-witted Montignac might
defeat. Hence, the secretary was not yet to be made aware of the turn
things had taken.

There were three quills on the table. I took up one of them and dipped it
in the horn of ink.

"Shall I tell you of what you are thinking, monsieur," said I, observing
on the governor's face a new expression, that of one who listens and
makes some mental calculation.

"Amuse yourself as you please, monsieur," he answered.

"You are thinking, first, that as I am in your château, and not alone, I
have, doubtless, deprived you of all the soldiers left to guard your
château; secondly, that at a certain time, a few hours ago, your troops
set out for my residence; that they have probably now learned that I am
not there; that they have consequently started to return. You are asking
yourself what will happen if I am here when they arrive. Will I kill you
before I allow myself to be taken? Probably, you say. Men like me value
themselves highly, and sell themselves dearly. You would rather that I
leave before they come. Then you can send them on my track. Very well;
write, monsieur!" And I handed him the pen.

He looked at me with mingled vindictiveness and wonder, as if it were
remarkable that I had uttered the thoughts that any one in his position
must have had. Mechanically he took the pen.

"What shall I write?" he muttered.

"Write thus: To M. de Brissard, governor of Fleurier. Release M. de
Varion immediately. Let him accompany the man who bears this and who
brings a horse for him."

With many baitings, many side glances at Frojac's arquebus and my
sword-point, many glum looks and black frowns, he wrote, while I watched
from across the table. Then he threw the document towards me.

"Sign and seal," I said, tossing it back to him.

With intended slovenliness he affixed the signature and seal, then threw
the pen to the floor. I took the order, scanned it, and handed him
another pen.

"Excellent!" said I. "And now again!"

He made a momentary show of haughty, indignant refusal, but a movement of
my sword quelled the brief revolt in him.

"The bearer of this," I dictated, "M. de Varion, is to pass free in the
province, and to cross the border where he will."

This time he signed and affixed the seal without additional request. He
threw the second pen after the first, and looked up at me with a scowl.

"A bold, brave signature, monsieur! There is one pen left!" and I handed
him the third quill.

He took it with a look of wrath, after which he gave a sigh of forced
patience, and sat ready to write.

"The bearer of this, Ernanton de Launay--"

"Ernanton de Launay?" he repeated, looking up inquiringly.

"Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire,--" I went on.

He stared at me aghast, as if my presumption really passed all bounds,
but a glint of light on my sword caught his eye, he carried his eye along
to the point, which was under his nose, and he wrote:

"--is to pass free in the province, and from it, with all his company."

"No, no, no! I will never write that!"

Without an instant's hesitation, I drew back my sword as if to add weight
to an intended thrust. He gasped, and then finished the pass, signed it,
and attached the seal.

"Be assured," I said, as I took up the last order, "these will be used
before you shall have time to countermand them." He gritted his teeth at
this. "I thank you heartily, monsieur, and shall ask you to do no more
writing. But one favor will I claim,--the loan of a few gold pieces for
M. de Varion. Come, monsieur, your purse has ever been well fed!"

With a look of inward groaning, he negligently handed me some pieces, not
counting them.

"_Parbleu!_" he said. "You will ask me for my château next."

"All in good time. It is a good jest, monsieur, that while you visit me
at Maury by proxy, I return the visit at Clochonne in person and find
your château unguarded. To complete the jest, I need only take
possession. But I am for elsewhere. Frojac, come here."

While Frojac approached, I held my sword ready for any movement on
the part of my unhappy adversary, for I saw him cast a furtive look
at the tray on the other table, and I read on his face the birth of
some new design.

Rapidly I gave Frojac my commands, with the gold and the two orders
first written.

"Take this order immediately, with my horse and your own, to the château
of Fleurier. Secure M. de Varion's release, and fly with him at once from
the province, leaving by the western border, so that you cannot possibly
be forestalled by any troops or counter-orders that this gentleman may
send from here. Make your way speedily to Guienne."

"And in Guienne, monsieur?"

"You will doubtless find me at the camp of Henri of Navarre. As soon as
you see M. de Varion, assure him of the safety of his daughter. And now
to horse!"

"I am already on my way, monsieur!" And the good fellow ran from the
chamber and down the stairs. In a few moments I heard the horses
clattering out of the courtyard and over the bridge. Pleased at his zeal
and swiftness, I stepped to the window to wave him a godspeed. I thus
turned my back towards La Chatre.

Frojac saw me and waved in response, as he dashed down the moonlit way
towards the road to Fleurier.

I heard a stealthy noise behind me, and, turning, saw what made me
fiercely repent my momentary forgetfulness and my reliance on the
governor's lameness. The sight revealed plainly enough what new idea had
come into La Chatre's mind,--simply that, if he should give the signal
for mademoiselle's death, I would probably not stay to attack him, but
would instantly rush into the next chamber in the hope of saving her. He
could then fasten the door, and so hold me prisoner in that chamber until
the return of his troops. Well for us that he had not thought of this
before the arrival of Frojac!

He was already near the table on which was the tray, when I turned and
saw him. He raised his stick to strike the tray. I rushed after him.

He brought down his stick. The tray sounded, loud and bell-like. He heard
me coming, and raised his stick again. The second clang would be the
death-knell of my beloved!

But my sword was in time, my arm served. The blade met the descending
stick and knocked it from the governor's grasp. The same rush that took
me between La Chatre and the table carried me across the chamber to a
spot at one side of the door which Montignac at that moment threw open.

"You struck once, did you not, monsieur?" said Montignac, not seeing me,
for he naturally looked towards the centre of the chamber.

He held mademoiselle's wrist in his left hand, his dagger in his right. I
was at his right side. I was too near him to use my sword with effect, so
I contented myself with stepping quickly behind him and bringing my fist
down on his left arm above the elbow. This unexpected blow made him
involuntarily release mademoiselle's wrist, and informed him of my
whereabouts. The impulse of self-preservation caused him to rush forward
and turn. I then stepped in front of mademoiselle and faced him. All
this, from my turning from the window, was done in a moment.

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