An Enemy to the King Part 16

"I believe that is what the famous Bussy d'Amboise said when he was warned not to keep his appointment with Mme. de Monsoreau," returned Blaise; "yet he was, none the less, killed by the rascals that lay in ambush with her husband."

"Thanks to the most kingly King of France, Henri III., who advised M. de Monsoreau to force his wife to make the fatal appointment with Bussy.

Thanks, also, to the truly grateful Duke of Anjou, who rewarded Bussy for his faithful service by concurring in the plot for his a.s.sa.s.sination."

"The Duke was worse than the King, for the King has been loyal to his chosen favorites. Think of the monument he erected in honor of De Quelus, and the others who got their deaths in that great duel in the horse-market. _Par dieu!_ I should like to have seen those girl-men of the King and those Guisards killing one another!"

"I have observed, Blaise, that you take an extraordinary pleasure in the slaughter of Guisards."

"I was in Coligny's house, monsieur, on the night of the St. Bartholomew.

I was one of those who, at the Admiral's command, fled to the roof, and from the roof of the next house I saw Coligny's body thrown into his courtyard, and the Duke of Guise turn it over with his foot and wipe the blood from the face to see if it were indeed my old captain's. Since then, the sight of the white cross of Guise stirs in me all the h.e.l.l that my diabolical father transmitted to me. And I should not like to see you fall into the hands of this Chatre, who is the right arm of the Duke of Guise in Berry. That is why I give heed to the premonition that troubles me regarding this journey."

"Certainly we cannot abandon the journey."

"No, but we can take unusual precautions, monsieur. Reports of our doings are everywhere. Has it never occurred to you that you are, in appearance, exactly the sort of man who would be taken for our leader? Ought you not to disguise yourself?"

"An excellent idea, Blaise! I shall put on your clothes, and you shall put on mine,--I shall pa.s.s as your lackey. It will be quite amusing."

"That is not the disguise I should have suggested," said Blaise, looking not too well pleased with the idea. "It would require me to pa.s.s as a gentleman."

But I saw possibilities of fun in the thing, and welcomed any means of enlivening our excursion. Therefore, we dismounted at G.o.deau's inn, and made the exchange of attire, much against the liking of Blaise, who now repented of having advised any disguise at all. My clothes were a little too tight for Blaise, for I was of medium size, and he puffed and turned red in the face, and presented a curious appearance of fierceness and discomfort. When I looked at him, I could not help laughing, and he met my glance with a grim and reproachful countenance. I did not think that his brown doublet and breeches and brown felt hat and feather were much disguise for me. As we rode along, I diverted myself by trying to a.s.sume a servile mien, which did not easily fit my rather bold face, prominent nose, keen gray eyes, up-curling brown mustache and pointed brown beard.

With his curly reddish hair and beard, defiant mustache, honest, big, blue eyes, swelling red cheeks, and robust body, Blaise looked like one who must have had his dignities thrust upon him very recently.

We reached, without accident, our destination,--the chateau of the Baron d'Equinay,--and that gentleman was speedily won by the a.s.surances that I bore him from Henri of Navarre. He desired, before starting for Guienne, to go to Paris, where he had resources, and he rode off northward at the same moment when we departed southward to return to Maury.

"It is well!" I cried to Blaise, as we rode in the bracing air of the October morning. "We have carried our King's message to every one of his chosen adherents in Berry. We ride through the province of M. de la Chatre, breathe his fresh air, absorb his suns.h.i.+ne as freely as he does himself. You see how reliable were your premonitions when we last set out from Maury."

"It is not too late yet, monsieur," growled Blaise, whose temper was ill while he wore my clothes; "we are not yet back at Maury."

"You will talk less dismally over a bottle of good wine, Blaise.

Therefore, I intend to stop at the first inn on the way. I hope it is a good one, for I am very hungry."

"There is an inn at this end of Fleurier," said Blaise, "but I would not stop if I were you."

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 a.s.signed us was at the head of a stairway leading from the kitchen. We had no sooner seated ourselves than our ears were a.s.sailed 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 a.s.suming 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 pa.s.s!

Let the brood of Calvin die; Long live the ma.s.s!

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 amus.e.m.e.nt, 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 n.o.ble governor.